I remember being so excited to finally transfer to a new elementary school. A fresh change. A fresh new school. And a fresh new chapter to my story.
"ATSUMU!" Hearing that in front of the elementary school gates. Someone was calling out to me. Not in excitement, not in satisfaction, and certainly not in happiness. It was rather, in distress. But it was most definitely annoying. It was most definitely him.
Osamu.
He was calling my name, my twin brother, not because he had fallen over and grazed his knee, or because the books from his unzipped bag had fallen out, but because there was a gang of elementary boys making fun of him, on his first day at this new school- because he looked vulnerable, they were even throwing a few books at him now and then. I didn't spend another millisecond to stop and think about what I was going to do, or rather, what I did. I ran straight to him, standing just a few centimetres in front of him, desperately trying to drive the kids away. They looked horrified. Exactly how Osamu looks at me now.
Or, at least... how he used to, before my world turned into hell.
They ran off- like a zebra running away from a lion that was hunting down its prey. I looked worryingly into those teary, dark, grey eyes. What innocent eyes they were at the time, helping him up off the floor and pulling him into my arms. This teasing and bullying from the kids lasted the whole few, very long, years we were in that school, almost every single day. Each time he called my name in desperate, heart-aching agony, I was always rushing to be by his side. No one else. Me, just me.
I remember one time, they hit him, his nose was dripping blood, eyes dripping pitiful tears. But when I got to where he was sitting, his bag on the floor- the stuff inside scattered beside it, it wasn't me there. I wasn't by his side. There was another boy. Slightly shorter than Osamu I'd say. He was wiping his tears. Not me. Comforting him in a way I thought nobody other than me could do. After standing there for a few seconds, processing what was in my line of sight, I ran over to him. Ignoring the other kid that was there. He didn't matter, he wasn't his brother, I was. I pulled Osamu into my arms, holding his head into my chest- and as he was crying, his saddening tears of pain soaking up in my new school shirt, I promised I would protect him for as long as I lived. But I was just a kid then, and everyone knows.. promises don't last.
We were in high school now, the bullying only got more graphic as time went on. I could hear Osamu, shouting in-between tears. But.. This time..
This time it was different. It wasn't my help he wanted.
"SUNA!"
He wasn't calling for me. And he hadn't been for the past few months.
His lips quivered as he shouted. His body shaking. His hands glued to his face, desperately trying to keep it shielded from all the punches the group threw at him. Until he rushed over and fought for him. Like how I would. How I used to. He- being Suna.
I guess you could call it jealousy, but at that moment, I refused to believe I was jealous of someone who had thrown me away for someone else, even after I got hurt trying to protect them.
He removed Osamu's hands from his face, then picked him up, cradling him in his arms like a newborn baby. Osamu's eyes were still as innocent as always- I hated that. I hated him. He had never changed, not in the slightest. He was gripping onto Suna like there was nobody else in the world that could ever protect him from any sort of pain. Including me.
"Atsumu?" That one word made me snap out of my thoughts. It was Kiyoomi Sakusa, or as I say: "Yes, Omi?"
I quickly turned to face the tall guy standing in front of me - my best friend. My everything. I've had feelings for Omi for a while now, but I don't think he's the type to reciprocate them, or even feel pity for anyone. However, that's not the reason I haven't confessed my feelings to him. I fear that just a few simple words could ruin everything between us, and I would hate to lose him. The thought of losing him terrifies me and would make my life a living hell.
"Is everything okay?" Or maybe I was wrong. Perhaps he does have some pity in him after all. "Yes, why?" I replied softly, trying to sound confident even though I had just told the biggest lie I'd ever told. Omi shifted his gaze in the direction I had been looking just moments before. "Ah... I understand," he said, staring at Osamu who was sobbing uncontrollably into Suna's shoulder. "You're feeling guilty."
"Huh?" I acted confused as he shifted his focus back to me. "That you're not the one to help him," he spoke calmly, seemingly indifferent to anything other than himself and his cleanliness. "That's not true!" I retorted, dumbfounded.
"So you don't want to help him?" He raises an eyebrow, appearing almost worried, but I know that's not how he was feeling. "No," I reply. Not anymore. We sit in silence for what feels like an eternity, but in reality, it is only a few seconds before Omi breaks it by speaking again.
"You don't love him enough to want to help him?"
I almost felt like throwing up at that comment. Help him? He doesn't need my help. How has he got the audacity to say that?
"Of course I love Osamu, he's my brother..." I was wrong... That was the biggest lie I've ever told. I hated him. I wish he was never my brother.
I let out a subdued sigh and avoided making eye contact with Omi as I spoke, "..But.." I stuttered, before continuing: "He has Suna now." Omi responded almost instantly, "Atsumu, he will need your help at some point." That was the final thing he replied with before he walked off to go to his next class, not giving me a chance to reply. I mutter to myself:
"But, when that happens, I won't help him."
Have you ever said something in the past that you regretted later on? It's a common situation that many people find themselves in. For me, this was my situation. Most people would say that conversations like this are examples of criticism, something we use to move forward in life, but not this time.
I fucked up this time.
All though it was just in my head. Even though I had never said that to Osamu, Omi, or anyone, looking back at it now, it was like they had all read my mind. I'm well aware it sounds stupid, but I swear it's the truth.
I arrive home, unlocking the door to my empty house. My parents are never home, except on a Friday. I check the calendar on the wall, putting my keys down on the hall table simultaneously. It read 'Friday'. Great. I hated Fridays. I would have to sit next to Osamu at the dining table as Mom and Dad questioned what we did in the week. I always thought if they cared then they wouldn't just leave without saying anything, and for practically the entire week.
Then, Osamu walked through the door, not daring to look at me. He hung his bag up and went straight to the kitchen- I followed him in not long after. "Mom and Dad are coming home later," I say to him as he gets a slice of yesterday's leftover pizza from the fridge. He doesn't answer. "Did ya hear me?" I walk up to him, standing just about an inch away from him, he turns around and looks at me, this time his eyes are dull, not like how he had looked at Suna earlier today. "No, sorry." He bites into the leftovers in his hand. "My god, how deaf are ya? Next time listen for fucks sake!" I reply angrily. "Sorry, Tsumu.." God I hated that nickname. "It's Friday. Mum and Dad are coming home today." I stare at him with eyes like a cat, waiting for his response. "Oh. Ok." He finally manages to say, finishing the rest of the food in his mouth. I scoff at him, making my way out of the kitchen and to my room, flopping down on my bed, the soft fabric wrapping around my body as I lay in bed, lost in thought. My mind wandered, pondering about the conversation earlier today and replaying the scenario in my head over and over again. The faint glow of the sun peered through the window as it slowly went away for the day, allowing room for the moon to take its place, leaving the room in an almost orange color. I closed my eyes, taking a deep breath, before pulling out my phone and opening the chat.
Me:
Heyyy Omiii!~ What are you up to?
Omi Omi❤️:
Laying in bed.
Me:
Oooo, are you comfortable?
Omi Omi❤️:
I guess.
A few, not very long, seconds passed.
Me:
Not going to ask me what I'm doing? :((
Omi Omi❤️:
Why should I ask? It's not like I care.
Even though his replies seemed rude, sometimes- no, always, they would make my heart flutter and make my feelings for him grow a little more.
Me:
Omii!! you're so mean! :(
Omi Omi❤️:
I'm joking. What are you doing?
Me:
Lying in bed, just like you! :)
Omi Omi❤️:
Cool.
Me:
Well, you're probably tired, right? I'll let you get some sleep.
Omi Omi❤️:
It's only 6:45 pm.
Me:
Oh yeah! LOL that's my bad
Omi Omi❤️:
All good.
Suddenly, I heard Osamu calling for me to come downstairs.
Me:
Well, I've got to go now, my parents are here :)
Omi Omi❤️:
Alright, have a good time.
Me:
Talk to you later, bye Omii!
Omi Omi❤️:
Bye, Tsumu.
I said earlier, that I hated that nickname, but that was only because Osamu said it. Whenever Omi said it- butterflies would appear in my stomach.
I head downstairs, heading to the dining room where everyone was seated, except Osamu, who was preparing in the kitchen. I sat down at the dinner table, my parents put down whatever items were in their hands. I could feel my parents staring at me, waiting for me to spike up a conversation, but I didn't know what to say. Osamu had only just started making the food, but it seemed like he had been gone for ages. The silence was suffocating, and the tension in the room was awkward. I kind of wished I could disappear into thin air or at least have something to distract myself with. A few minutes went by before the tension in the room left as my Mom finally decided to say something. "I know you might be angry that we are never here, but it's not our fault." She smiles at me, pity in her eyes. "I know Ma, I'm not mad." I smile back. That's not what I'm mad about. "How is school?" My Dad begins, sharing the same smile as Mom and me. "It's been alright, nothing new," I replied, knowing it's just been getting worse over the past few months. "Ah, that's good to hear. How is that friend of ya's-" Dad paused, his hand rubbing against the back of his head. "-What was his name again?" He had a sorry expression on his face. "His name is Sakusa. He's been good." I smile at him, trying not to create any more negative tension. "Oh yes, that's it!" Dad chuckles to himself before continuing: "Why don't you invite Sakusa round for dinner one time?" He says like he's been waiting forever to bring this up. "Ooo yes, that's a great idea!!" Mom adds on, the both of them staring at me, waiting for my response. "Uh.. well.. I don't think it will be a good idea-" I quickly mutter. "Oh come on! Just one dinner Atsumu!" My parents both say at the same time, you can tell they were made for each other. Some would even call it soulmates. "Fine. I'll ask him tomorrow." I sigh, my parents are cheering. They are just like little kids.
After quite some time, Osamu finally comes out of the kitchen with a good-looking buffet in his hands. Setting it down on the table, everybody immediately takes what they like out of the options. A few minutes pass before I look up and see my dad not touching his food: staring straight at Osamu, I look over to my brother, my eyes grow wide as I notice the big bruise that is practically covering half of his face, and then, mom caught on. It took a few silent seconds for Osamu to realize we were all staring into his soul. "What? Is there something on my face?!"
He gets no reply. "Why are ya all looking at me like that?" He raises an eyebrow, his gaze drifting between the 3 of us. "Osamu." Dreadfully, my Dad speaks up. "How did ya get that bruise?" It's like his heart actually stopped for a minute, he stood completely still. Until. "Oh! I fell down the stairs earlier and landed straight on my face, I didn't think it would be that bad so I just left it!" Osamu smiles at my parents angelically- making them breathe a sigh of relief. "Oh gosh, that scared me for a minute!!" My Mom chuckles, but you could still hear the nervousness, even though she tried to hide it. "Did ya not know Atsumu?" My Dad turns his head towards me. "No," I say stubbornly, turning my head towards Osamu. "Ya should tell me next time Samu." As much as I tried, I could not even get an ounce of concern or pity on my face, I didn't care. Osamu knew it, but my parents did not. "Sorry, Tsumu." He replied so casually but so quickly like he already knew what I was going to say before I even turned to look at him. His eyes were the dullest and darkest they had ever been, to be honest, it kind of pissed me off. But no one had to know that. After a lot more useless talking and catching up, we finished the dinner. My Mom was washing up the dishes- Osamu helping her, my Dad was picking out a movie for him and Mom to watch later, and me, well, I was in my room.
It was now the next week, a Thursday to be exact. I was walking home with Omi after school, debating whether or not I should ask him if he wanted to come over for dinner or tell my parents he couldn't make it. I made up my mind, that dinner was tomorrow, it was now or never.
"Omi?" I start the conversation off in my cheery voice. "Yes?" He doesn't take his eyes off the path in front of him. "Uh.. well... you see...-" I stutter. Maybe this wasn't a good idea. "Spit it out Tsumu." He interrupts while turning his head slightly to look at me. "I was wondering if you wanted to come over tomorrow for dinner!" There was silence for about a minute. "Ya don't have to come if ya don't want to Omi, ya can say no! It's just that my parents wanted to meet ya and-"
"Sure." He stops me from rambling on any longer. "OH MY GOSHHH!! DO YOU MEAN THAT?!?!" I stare at him, my eyes lighting up as my stomach develops butterflies. "Yeah." His replies were basic and dry, but they meant the world to me. "YAYYY!!" I jump up and down in joy until we reach the path where it's time for us to go our separate ways and head home. "See ya tomorrow Omi Omi!" I wave and him with a huge smile of excitement on my face. "See you, Tsumu." He waves back as he walks away.
As soon as I got home I messaged the family group chat.
Me:
Hey guys, Sakusa said he will come over for dinner tomorrow.
Mother🥰:
Yay, that's great! We can't wait to meet him!!
Twin🤮:
Who's 'we?'
Father😇:
Osamu don't be rude. Your brother didn't complain when Suna was over.
That's not true, I complained to Osamu after they had all left, but they didn't have to know that.
Twin🤮:
Sorry.
I don't remember what happened after that message, I just remember waking up the next day thinking something along the lines of: 'I can't wait for Omi to come over!! ' Oh, and also telling Osamu: 'Don't ruin this for me.'
Anyway, we went to school as usual. Nothing out of the ordinary happened. I was annoying Omi like I always do, Osamu was getting bullied like he always does, and Suna was helping him like he always does. Everything was normal. We finished school for the day and instead of Omi going a different way to go home, he followed me back to my house, silently listening to me blabber on about how excited I was that he was finally coming over to meet my family. When we got there I realized a familiar-looking car was outside the driveway. Are they already here? As I walked into the house- holding the door open for Omi, then walking inside, my parents started crowding us. "So ya are Sakusa? My god ya are tall!" My mum looked him up and down. "Atsumu is not forcing ya to be his friend is he??" Okay, that kind of hurt when my Dad said that. I step in front of Omi, waving my arms. "Leave him alone for the love of God! He just got in!!" I heard him let out a small thankful sigh. My parents backed off and went to sit down at the dining table, we followed shortly after, only me, catching Osamu scoffing in the corner of my eye as he headed to the kitchen to make the food- that I will never admit that I loved.
It took about 20 minutes for the food to finally be set down at the table and for everyone to start eating it. It wasn't like I disliked that Omi Omi was over, I was just worried about him, knowing that he's such a clean freak and all, but the whole thing went pretty smoothly. The conversations felt kind of awkward, or one-sided, though. They went a little like this:
"So.. Sakusa, how long have ya been playing volleyball?"
"Since I was little."
"What do ya do in your free time?"
"Clean."
"I'm surprised that Atsumu hasn't picked up any cleaning tips from ya yet!" My dad cracked up at his unfunny joke while everyone stared awkwardly until he got the hint to quiet down.
Osamu stayed silent the whole time unless someone called him out, which was unusual since he normally does most- if not all, of the talking when it's just the 4 of us sitting down or if we are having dinner with Suna. It was quite obvious that he didn't like Omi, so obvious that I'm 99% sure that Omi knew it as soon as he walked through the door because of the way Osamu stared into his soul. Oh, and because of the ever so faint scoffs of disgust ever so often that would cause Omi to look over at him briefly before continuing his small talk. He didn't even help us clean up afterward since the guy he seemed to dislike for some unknown reason, who- may I add, was busy spraying everything with his 99.9% bacteria remover, was still in our shared apartment. I ended up walking Omi Omi home and by the time I got back, Osamu had told me our parents had left because of an emergency at work.
It was around 11:45, the moon shining down past my wide open curtains creating a calming light in my room like it always does, when I received an unexpected message from someone who would never even think about messaging first.
Omi Omi❤️:
Thank you for inviting me.
My cheeks couldn't help but heat up and reveal a light shade of pink as my mouth curved into a smile that plastered my face.
Me:
And thank you for coming Omi!~💖
My parents decided to have both Omi and Suna over this Friday instead of switching between them every week as we do. We had already made all the arrangements and were waiting for them to arrive. Suna arrived first as expected, he thanked us for having him over again. A few minutes later, Omi finally knocked on the door. We were sitting down, eating, and having a normal conversation, were only 10 minutes in before hell started to let loose.
"I'm always amazed about how well 'Samu can cook," Suna said while stuffing his face.
"Yeah, I have to admit it's pretty good." Omi nodded his head in response.
"That's pretty new coming from ya." Osamu rolled his eyes.
"'Samu chill out." I gave him a deathly stare that said 'Shut ya mouth.' But he didn't stop there.
"Ok then. Anyways-" Suna tried to lighten the mood after that, not so insulting but enough to make you know it was an insult, comment from Osamu.
"Actually, Sakusa, why are ya even here? It's not like ya even like Atsumu anyway, we all see it." The whole time his eyes were dark, staring right at Omi, not breaking eye contact.
The room went dead silent and I felt a mad burning sensation crawl up my throat as I tried, oh so desperately, to hold back anything that may come out my mouth. What the fuck is he doing?! I'm pretty sure everyone could feel how unsettling this was for the man that Osamu was directing this to. He took a deep sigh, almost letting out a small uncomfortable laugh. "How exactly would you know that?" The aura now becoming even more tense than it already was. It was silent, so silent that it felt like I was sitting in my room all by myself, so silent that you could almost hear everyone's heart thumping out of their chests. "Ya act like it." A short but bitter response came from Osamu on the other side of the table. "Osamu that's enough." Finally, someone stepped in and shut him up. He didn't utter a word or even make a loud sigh for the rest of the dinner, the awkward tension never left, even when everybody went home.
"WHY WOULD YA EVEN SAY THAT?!" We had fights all the time, every sibling does, but this one was different. "I'm just looking out for ya 'Tsumu! I'm still ya brother ya know!" He didn't show a sign of sympathy when he spoke those words. "YA RUINED EVERYTHING 'SAMU!" My shouts only getting louder. He replied almost instantly "He's not a good person to hang around with!" He seemed so convinced he was right. "YA DON'T KNOW THAT!" I hated the way he wouldn't even take a second to think about his responses, I still do now. "I do! Just look at him! He looks like a freak and he always treats you like shit 'Tsumu!" To be completely honest, I don't know what happened at that moment, all I could see was red, that one statement was another for my anger to let loose as it controlled my body. The next thing I knew, Osamu was on the floor, his eyes as wide as his mouth, a small dribble of blood seeping out from his nose.
That was the first time I had ever properly hit my brother- no joking around, no playing- it was a proper punch in the face. My identical other half was not different by only his hair color now, but also by the additional red mark that was now planted across his face, fazing out every other barely visible bruise and mark that you could only see if you were standing close in front of him. This difference between us wasn't a one-time occurrence. I never forgave him, I started to resent him- the situation always replayed in my mind, getting me riled up every day, and the only way to take my anger out:
Was on him.
Taking my anger out on Osamu became my daily routine. I would come home from school all stressed, wait for him to get home, and then use him as a punching bag until my hands were filled with sweat and blood. He became so scared of me, that he would try to get home before I did so he could lock himself in his room, and sometimes he did manage to get out of my grasp, barely.
"'Tsumu, please.. I'm sorry!!" He would always beg, his whines of despair sounding like a lost puppy that had been left on the side of a road. None of that stopped me though, or even made me feel the slightest bit guilty.
Now all I feel like is a cold-blooded murderer, his blood will always be on my hands. It won't come off, not even washing them using bleach will remove these permanent dried-up stains that nobody else can see. It's driving me to the end of sanity.
I could hear the sounds of his shouting suddenly getting quieter and quieter until they abruptly stopped. His unconscious body lay against the front door, sleeping like a baby, like I hadn't just beaten him black and blue- and some red. I just left him there- he'll wake up eventually, I took a nice shower, the same as every day, until I heard shouting about 5 minutes later.
"ATSUMU!"
huh?
"ATSUMU WHERE THE FUCK ARE YOU??"
It was then that my heart skipped a beat, only one word came into my mind as I stood there letting the water drip down my body.
Friday.
It was indeed a Friday, a family dinner day, and I knew then who that voice belonged to, the guy who made it his life's mission to turn up to everything 10 minutes early, the guy who would never look at me the same after that day. I quickly turn off the shower, cover myself up with a long shirt that I got from Omi, and run downstairs. "Suna?!" He was holding onto Osamu, and with tears in his eyes, he looked at me. "How could you do this to your brother Atsumu? Why??" And here I thought he couldn't show an ounce of pity. I'll admit I couldn't answer- not because I was ashamed, but because I got caught.
It had been weeks since that happened. Omi didn't show up to dinner anymore, because of what Osamu had said a while back, and Suna only came around to 'protect' Osamu from me, to keep an eye on him. No one else knew, Osamu would beg Suna, until he was crying on his knees, to help him cover every bit of damage up. Suna feeling as guilty as ever, would say yes.
From that one Friday alone, I started to understand what hell was and that I would slowly but surely live eternally in as the weeks progressed.
Over the next month or so, I noticed that Osamu had been eating less and less, I'm sure Suna noticed it also, but neither of us said anything to anyone, not even him. He was beginning to look like one flick to the head would put him in a life-or-death situation, but that didn't stop the ongoing abuse. My parents, being the amazing parents they were, never took Osamu not eating much as a serious issue. Whenever they asked him about it he would say "I'm trying to lose weight to help me in volleyball." Which- for some reason- my parents thought was a valid reason for the leftover fat on his arms to start deteriorating quickly, even though he was naturally the perfect body type any dude could hope for.
This Friday night was a little different, no one additional was at the dining table, no Suna and no Omi, just my family- like how it used to be. Omi had started to come less and less since that one incident that started this whole hate relationship between me and Osamu, and Suna had a 'family meeting' he had to attend too- although I think he didn't want to come because he couldn't bare to see Osamu in his worsened state. We all sat at the table, somewhat peacefully, until midway through our peaceful dinner, I saw what would later turn into something that would change my life- for worse.
I noticed the barely healing wounds on his arm. The ones he was desperately trying to cover up with one of Suna's oversized thrift jumpers.
I physically felt my heart stop and restart in the span of a millisecond, it was then that I started to understand that karma had come back to bite me in the ass- and it was just about to get a hell of a lot worse.
I went to my room after finishing my food, no one thought anything of it as it was a usual thing for me to do, and all I could think about were those seeping scars on ruined wrists- well, that was until I eventually got up to do something about it, or more like, talk to him about it.
I start to nervously make my way to his bedroom door, as a feeling overwhelms my legs making them become almost numb, as well as taking control of my body, making me feel like I'm going to topple over any minute. Oh, a familiar feeling it was, and that so-called familiar feeling was: fear. The fear that made me make that promise to Osamu when we were young as hell after I protected him from people who had the same personality as a thorn bush, and the fear that followed those years since I made that promise, that had been building up, made me despise him more than I would despise a murderer after killing their entire family.
I knock on the door, waiting eagerly for a response. Hoping- no, praying, it was all just a misunderstanding.
"Osamu?"
Upon no answer, I place my hand on the doorknob, twisting it slowly, and open the door, hearing the, oh so familiar, creaks as the door opens all the way, leaving the whole room open in eyesight with just the moon shining through the window like it was trying to break in.
At that moment I was scared, and to be completely honest, I don't know why. There was nothing scary about sitting down and talking to my own brother. Right?
For a few seconds, nothing processed in my mind when I took a peak into the center of the room. I was completely frozen in fear, the only sounds being my parents talking downstairs and the door smacking against the plain walls.
There he was. Hanging desperately from the ceiling, the thin rope looked so perfectly clean with not a single mark on it, but you could tell it was on its last limbs. I barely even mutter out a single word.
O-osa..." I feel tears start trickling down my now pale face and I eagerly struggle to keep my dinner in my stomach as I try to say his name. The name that I used to shout and call a crybaby whenever we got into the pettiest of arguments, the name that used to bring me complete joy whenever I said it when I was younger, the name of my brother.
My now hanging, lifeless brother.
I feel as if time has completely stopped, I can't hear my parents talking anymore, it's all gone quiet. My feet are nailed to the floor, just like the rope is nailed to the ceiling, that is until it finally gives in, releasing its grip on the nail holding it in place. Almost like I can feel Osamu's hands releasing from mine, as his now grey body falls on the floor, his head almost hitting the stool that was just centimetres away from his dangling legs just moments before. My body is in a world of its own, my mind begging me to move just an inch to grab his hands and tell him it will be ok, that he would survive, that I could see his cold and empty eyes look at me just once more. But there's nothing, his chest isn't rising and falling like he's breathing and his eyes are shut tight, like they've been glued down.
I think the part that hurts the most was that there was not a single sign of regret or struggle on his emotionally broken hands, the hands that were laying open flat out on the floor.
I made a promise, and I broke it.
I don't even get a second chance to change anything. He's gone. And I'll never get him back.
I don't remember my parents running in, I don't remember sitting in the back of the ambulance, in the waiting room, or in the back of the car on the drive home after it was confirmed he had passed. I remember Suna screaming and shouting at me, tears falling slowly down his cheeks, as he blamed me for everything, and as everyone turned against me, my friends, my parents, Omi, and even myself.
Honestly, I thank Suna for outing me. I couldn't look my family in the eye since I stood in that freezing cold room that belonged to Osamu. I don't think I could have held on for much longer if they never knew. If they kept trying to comfort me and tell me that it was not my fault when in reality, it was. I wasn't allowed to say my last goodbyes before they took him to the graveyard, I wasn't allowed at the funeral as a whole. Don't worry, I understand. I wouldn't have invited me either. I wouldn't have even gone. I have the chance to visit his grave, but I'm not going to. I mean, how can a fucking murderer look their victim in the eyes and apologize? Tell them they are sorry for taking away such a small and sincere life. Tell them they are sorry for ruining their family. They are sorry for taking away the happiness of everyone their victim ever loved.
I've thought about killing myself, to put myself through the pain that Osamu went through while he died, but then I realized I don't need to die to go to hell, because I'm living in it. My own special place, alone, in an old scabby apartment with the yellow wallpaper peeling off the walls. This is hell. And not even the hot core in the center of the earth that your average person would call 'hell' could compare to the ongoing and everyday torture that I'm going through.
Now as I'm sitting here writing this, the teardrops from my eyes smudging the not-so-neat handwriting on paper, I once again think about the promise I once made to him. The one I tried so desperately to not forget when I was young, but ended up breaking when I was only 16 years old, the promise that would cost me my entire future.
People make mistakes, I know that, but this wasn't a mistake, it was fate. The consequences of my actions. The karma that had come to bite me back in the ass. Maybe, just maybe, Osamu did this because he knew it would lead karma straight to me. Or, maybe, he was karma, and after all the months of me beating him, he finally wanted to let a few hits out on me.
I know that in one of the speeches that was said at Osamu's funeral: "The smile of an angel was taken away too soon for anyone's liking.." was directed at me. I took away that angelic smile, those angelic eyes that turned cold whenever he did as much as a glance in my direction. That angelic face looked identical to mine, except mine was not angelic, it was evil. There was one last thing I wanted to say:
This book is not a warning. It's a guide, a guide on how to NOT be a good brother.
By Miya Atsumu.