[SUMMARIZED]Aftermath- Suegiku

AfterMath

He misses Jōno's voice. His face. His touch— the feeling of his hands through Jōno's hair. Tetchō doesn't want to forget his face—

He has pictures of him— framed in his apartment.
But is that really enough? What if he can't remember without a photo? What if he can't remember the sound of his voice? What if he can't—

..

He wants him back.
He needs Jōno back.

Tetchō's miserable.

How does he cope?
Crying. Screaming. Locking himself in his room. Exercising over and over again and straining to put all his stress into it.

The others are worried, of course— they can hear him, see him, and are terribly concerned.

Once someone who expressed affection through touch— now he rejects it.
He flinches even if Teruko tries to grab his arm.

But what can they do?
Nothing. Absolutely nothing. He rejects all forms of help.

Tetchō screams in the dead of every night— no matter how good or how bad his day has been—

Trying to hold onto every piece of Jōno he can.
Now, he bears Jōno's earring himself. Just for him. The love of his life— it'll always be with him, won't it?

Tetchō screams—
His agony bouncing off of the walls—
Right back at him, as if to mock him. To show him what he deserved for not being able to protect a loved one.

He could have done more. Tetchō could have prevented Jōno from going with Fukuchi to that room. Could have at least listened in. Could have intervened.

But he's just so stupid. So—
He can't do anything. Not intellectual, just fucking stupid.
He hates that.
Now that Jōno's gone, he's missing an entire part of himself.

Tetchō's turned more irritable— more angry— but also, even more emotional.
Breaking down at the slightest things right after putting up an apathetic facade—
He's having so much trouble maintaining his facial expressions now.

He claws at his hair— ripping it out, burying his face into the floor.

The slightest things remind him of Jōno.

Working out? Jōno's weight.
Sleeping? Jōno's warmth.

Speaking? Jōno's voice.

It doesn't feel the same without someone there to nag him lovingly about every single thing he does

Eating his food combinations— such a silly thing, really—

But who's going to be there to mock him about it?

He was hopelessly in love with Jōno— just as he was with him.

....

More time passes.

Tetchō can't feel himself recovering at all.

Going too far on missions, taking on violence tendencies like Jōno once did, pushing himself too hard— he gets injured more often than before, and more than everyone else.

He can't sleep, even though it's been so long.
He's disheveled. He overworks himself. Tetchō has heavy bags under his eyes.

He's at least tried to stay away from drinking.
He's tried.

But he's starting to forget Jōno's face— his voice.
He can't take it.

Jōno's voice— sweet, loving— familiar— it was disappearing from Tetchō's head. It's horrible. Tetchō can't get himself up off the floor- straining his memory just to remember the sound of Jōno's voice against his ear.

His voice is turning into muffled sounds of white noise. Tetchō can feel as if his brain is rotting. His memory is no longer reliable.

He's been having daily depressive episodes—
Locking himself up in his room— trying to salvage any piece of Jōno he can. Drawing Jōno, looking at pictures of Jōno, sketching.

He hates it when he messes up any part of Jōno in his sketches.

He misses his lover horribly.

He just
Can't
Come to terms with his death.

His face is disappearing. Tetchō can't remember it without a picture anymore.

He hasn't broken any frames— stopping himself before he could. They were Jōno's, after all.

But... even the pictures are starting to blur.

He'd pick up a frame, trying to look at a picture of his late lover.

Nothing.

It's blurred.
Smudged.
Censored.

Jōno's face is blocked.
Why?
Why?
Why can't Tetchō just fucking see Jōno's face again?

He longs for him.

Tetchō's not only lost a lover— but a piece of him.

Jōno was his other half.
His piece.
The love of his life—
Someone— something precious to him.

What worth is Tetchō if he can't even remember his face?

He's never going to move on.

He goes on solo missions. He rejects all new partner applications.

He rejects all sorts of external help. He's stubborn— he thinks he can get on by himself.

Tetchō won't— he CAN'T replace Jōno.

Tetchō has always been someone people admired and looked up to-
Look at him now. Disheveled, mourning, depressed—
He feels as if he's letting everyone down.

He can't even serve Justice right. He's nearly ruined the Hunting Dog's perfect mission clearance record on multiple occasions.

He wants to rid himself of existence— a place in society.
Tetchō feels like he doesn't deserve it.
Jōno should be here. Not him.

Jōno should have been looked up to. Not him.

Jōno should be alive. Not him.

Tetchō's always been so physically strong— so admirable—

But he's always, always
Been a weak man.

A weak man under a facade.

A weak man under lies.

A weak man—

One who can't even remember

The figure

Of his lover's face

Nor the sound—
The echo—
The sound of Jōno's voice.

He's a useless man.

Not a pinnacle of Justice—
Nor a strong man.

He can't even accept his death.

He can't even let go of him.
He can't move on.

He's weak.

He's always been.

Tetchō
Just lies.

Lying
Just to keep himself going.