Main Sequence (BL)

4

4

AKIO POV

Extreme tension discharged from Ryu's aura as I awoke one morning after another night of drinking. Cold, detached, distressed, and especially towards me, I stepped on eggshells around him. Ryu had a cigarette while my mom slept or left to study. I brought us cups of water and even idly sat by him as he gazed at his phone; something obviously bothered him. I'm not sure if my constant presence was the cause, but if he needs space, I wish he'd tell me. Ryu is pushing me away without saying a word.

Takashi's message was on my phone, still unanswered from this morning. He asked how I was doing, but the truth was, I didn't know how I was doing anymore. I couldn't tell if I was sad or happy, excited or angry, affectionate or uncaring, but I suppose it's better than what I've felt in a long time.

Troubled, I sighed with a dull pulse of agony in my chest. It felt like Ryu was fighting a mental battle that he was unfortunately losing. I just wanted to help him. After shadowing someone for so many years, I guess I was able to sense a few things.

"Ryu, what's wrong?" I murmured, my voice low in respect to my currently sleeping mom. "D-did I do something?"

Ryu barely made a noise in response and stood abruptly, hiding his face with his hood as he moved out the front entry. His hasty actions shocked me as he hurried down the porch steps, but I kept after the impassioned boy behind my house and analyzed his face as he lit a cigarette. He's gotten too comfortable, but who am I to say anything?

A small pile of cigarette butts glared up at me from the ground between us. Uneasy, I used my foot to push the dirt, hiding them poorly. I stared at my feet as he exhaled; something about the sound of his breathing concerned me.

"You're mad?"

Ryu crossed his arms and leaned against the outside walls of the house. The minutes felt like hours as he replied with a shrug.

"Why?" I chewed my lip nervously.

The dark-haired boy shook his head and exhaled roughly, apathetic to his surroundings. I miss when he spoke in demands and statements. Lately, it's always tense and silent. Our recent disconnect felt more like rejection and knotted in the pit of my stomach. When did he start treating me like everyone else?

"Just tell me," I pressed; Ryu backed away as though he felt crowded.

Ryu didn't make eye contact, just exhaled broken phrases like a distress signal, "Fuck, I don't.. I think–don't think so."

"I did something?"

Ryu's mouth twitched, an aberration from his cold front. Like a mask with a loose thread, his facade began to unravel. He stomped out the cigarette, his hand slightly trembling.

"Talk to me, please?" I urged, but Ryu's irritated scoff caused an emotional tsunami that surged through my words. "I always talk to you!"

"Bullshit," Ryu lashed back in anger, spitting nails, "You talk to liquor and switchblades—I go through a damn war to get you to talk to me!"

My eyes burning as I tasted salt, I opened my mouth slightly but nothing came out. I'm not surprised I'm crying; he has never yelled at me like this. He's probably annoyed that I'm here and I'm just making it worse with an ocean of tears. Suddenly I felt something, or someone, grab my hand.

Ryu tightened his grip on my hand, recollecting himself. "I'm sorry."

The sudden apology surprised me, and so did the entirety of this encounter. My hands shook, alarmed, as I felt him tremble. I just wanted his wicked grin and charming eyes back again. Currently, he's a shaking, stumbling corpse.