Chapter 70: Scabs

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The black blur from the walk home yesterday...it was no illusion.

Roughly five hours ago, a man stood in front of the apartment door with a 2203 metal plate plastered on the center. His gait was stiff, patting down the wrinkles of his black suit before lifting his hand and giving three, loud knocks. Wearing sunglasses despite of the dimness of indoors, his expression did not waver at the sight of the girl, hair scruffy with deep eye bags forming underneath her sleepy eyes. It was one hour past midnight and an unexpected visit from a black-suited stranger added to the reasons of her sleep deprivation other than insomnia and nightmares.

"Your father has sent me here to deliver you a message, Yamamoto-sama."

She rubbed her eyes with the back of her hand, softness that glimmered in her eyes faded away entirely and was then replaced with dull, lifeless look.

"...Come in."

The man settled down on the couch, his gait still rigid as the girl sets down two coffee mugs with a light clink. Once she sat down on the opposite side of the coffee table, the man opened his mouth. Words marched out of it and filled the air. The room shrunk, the atmosphere grew thick and heavy. Suffocated by words.

At first there was talking.

Then there was yelling.

After that, there was silent weeping.

To be honest, I don't know how to phrase what the message read in way where it wouldn't sound as bad...Instead, I'll put it in the shortest, simplest terms so that you may experience the pain only briefly. Hopefully. It summarizes the message in a simple, four word blow:

Four years is enough.

This brings to us right now: Ayame resting her her cheek against her palm on the plush airplane arm rest. Indeed, her face looked as if she hasn't cried at all. The powers of genetics has mercilessly blessed upon her. She was only able to bring a small amount of hand-carry items and Mallow, who seems just as unenthusiastic as she is about the trip.

She only got so far. How long has it been since she joined the club...? About nine months? Her right forearm was clean and spotless. She smiled more often. She even started laughing. Still reckless, but she definitely valued herself more than she ever did in her life so far. There was improvement. The wounds were now scabs. Healing. Now it's all over. She has to go back. She has to see him again. Wounds tore open. Scabs ripped off her pale complexion. Bleeding.

She grew to love herself...For god's sake, she's willing to even get hurt by being in a committed relationship.

But how is she going to tell him? She pursed her lips as she stared at the phone in her grasp. Pleading to be used. Five hours should have been enough to give him a brief explanation of the situation in person. How could she forget to tell him?

The answer: She didn't.

Seeing him will only make her cry again. She can't bring herself to tell him in person...she just can't. Her heart battered against her ribcage as her finger scrolled down her contacts and tapped on his name. Hands trembling, she held her phone up in her ear. After an eternity, the call was returned.

"...What is it? It's six in the morning." His voice only sent a chill in her spines. It was raspy and deep with sleepiness.

It's too early. It's definitely too early. She thought.

"Everything's over..." She trailed off, gulping in hopes to let the ragged words stop scratching against her throat. He picked up her trembling voice, making his eyebrows raise slightly in surprise. What's over? It was then her next words hit him like a brick in realization. It's just like his brother all over again.

"It's all over, Tsukishima." She said. Surely it's a cruel joke. It has to be. But the shaking of her voice and the addressing by his surname says otherwise. There was a good couple seconds worth of silence to let those words sink into Tsukishima. She was certain the prolonged silence wasn't a lag.

Out of all that, he managed to keep his composure, mustering up his best to speak in the most casual tone as possible. "...So we're breaking up?"

Brief, forced laughter came from the the other line weakly. Brokenly. She was quite relieved that he took it so well, thankful for his indifferent nature. "Yeah. Pretty much."

Faint shuffling noises were picked up by his mis as he shifted his position on the bed, feeling the bed grow uncomfortable. "Can I ask why you're acting like this? Or are you being unreasonably selfless again?"

She hummed as a reply, savoring his sarcastic remark, for it will be her last. How bitterweet. Her eyes were wiped dry from earlier, so not a drop spilled out, much to her relief. "Do you...Do you rememver that time back at the summer camp when you told me how I was destined to be the successor of the Yamamoto Recording Company...?"

His nose scrunched up in distaste, his mind flashing images of her crying because of his doing got his insides bubbling with guilt. Is this the reason of their break up?

"I told you already that I take back what I said-"

"But you're right. Weren't you? You always were... I was going to take over someday..." She trailed off, her voice growing shakier with each and every word. "I just didn't know it has to be right now."

"Wait. What are you trying to imply-"

"Ah" She cuts him off, her gaze fixated outside the window of the plane. "My flight is about to take off. Goodbye, Tsukishima."

His pupils dilated in shock despite the drowsiness itching in his eyes. This time, he didn't get the chance to calm himself, letting his impulse take over. His tone grew outrageously in disbelief. Breaking up was one thing, but what the hell is the meaning of this?

"Ha?! Ayame Yamamoto, don't you dare put down that phone-" Too late. She did. All those cozy afternoons spent together, kisses exchanged, hands held. All crumbled down within a single phone call. She really fucked it up. God, he probably hates her now.

Good. She thought, her eyelids shutting close. That means he can move on, right?

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