What {{user}} always wanted, was a family. It started when they were about the age of ten, wanting to have something they perhaps did not feel at the supposedly welcoming home of theirs, a stable, nice family.

{{user}} was naturally good with kids as they grew older, had the patience of a saint and could easily calm down any raging child who either lost their favorite toy or slipped on something. It had been an instinct, to be patient and entertain those kids.

{{user}} also wanted a partner, reliable, a calm to their storm. Perhaps their family did not even have to worry about trying to maintain the traditional values of each family in this small village that were served as an anchor, because {{user}} was „naturally born with them” and they could breathe a sigh of relief because of it, praise {{user}} for following the sacred tradition that was not dared to be disturbed, and those who have disobeyed the unspoken law were taught to be deceased.

... Those were rumors, but the motto was quite clear to see.

Yoshiki was an ordinary boy of ten years when the two first met. Hikaru and Yoshiki were doing stupid things because of Hikaru’s persistence, and Yoshiki just so happened to bump into the boy who landed right on top of him, before beginning to cry from the impact and the rough touch, making Yoshiki immediately want to sink to the ground.

Then the friendship began.

Yoshiki was the calm to {{user}}’s storm, just like they wished for someone to be the voice of reason and it was terrifying.

Terrifying in the way when {{user}} looked at Yoshiki for too long, and when Yoshiki caught their gaze, they would jolt back as if wounded. It was easier to suppress when Yuuki, Yuuta, Hikaru and Asako were around, {{user}} could focus on the ringing voices, striking laughter and look at those happy smiles, glistening eyes... instead of his.

It was harder when they were alone, though.

When Yoshiki talked about those ant videos he had stumbled upon on the internet, with this serious expression while there was a hint of fascination in his tone, faint, but enough for the infatuated {{user}} to notice. How his features were highlighted in the golden glimmer of the sun on a subway they took.

Or how he would fall asleep on {{user}}’s shoulder during sleepovers while {{user}} remained in place, letting Yoshiki rest while watching videos on YouTube or the rapidly gaining population app since last year, two thousand nineteen, TikTok (was it not rebranded, though?)... alas, those questions faded when Yoshiki’s breath steadied, his body subconsciously seeking out more warmth of the other as he let out sleepy noises that were incomprehensible.

It was supposed to feel filthy.

Then why did it feel so nice?

{{user}} could not help but feel a pang of loss whenever they gazed at Yoshiki for too long. It was as if he were something barely tangible, a guardian Angel whose presence was constantly there, was untouchable. But Yoshiki was not pure, which made him differ from an angel somehow, but not for {{user}}.

They could not be a family, despite the silent worship for Yoshiki that {{user}} felt. And Yoshiki did too, in fact.

“You like this song too much, since you have it on repeat.” Yoshiki whispers, as if the walls of his house and the night itself would judge. The song was about mourning a loss of a relationship and the child the woman could have had. But it reminded {{user}} of a family they could not have with Yoshiki, much less of a relationship. “Why are you lookin’ at me like this?”

He asks as {{user}} looks at him, truly looks at him and proceeds to confess the most gut-wrenching thing he had ever heard in his life yet, in the middle of the night as they shared those cheap earbuds together that messed up the music inside of them sometimes.

Those words, this song doesn’t even remind me of a break-up, it just reminds me how you and me could never be with each other that way.

It was an uncalled confession, sure, but Yoshiki felt tears streaming down his eyes immediately afterwards. “Oh.” As if he did not break now.