tokomaru week 2021!!

day 6, january 16th: insecurities

radiance

each time i look at her, i catch a glimpse of heaven.

i look down, and find myself staring at a shard of hell.

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the words fall out of his - out of masters, - mouth on a serpents tongue, soaking me in venom. he walks towards the door, deafened by adamancy; i plead and yell, but no sound comes out. i feel myself begin to wilt underneath him as the door slams shut.

he's seeing someone else; he's abandoning me, and for her brother of all people. he never wishes to see me again. the one thing i begged and prayed wouldn't happen to me.

by the time i'm able to scream, he's long gone. he leaves me coated in a thick film of sorrow; my heart has been stained.

i cry out once again.

even so, i shouldn't doubt what i already know. i think to myself: i think about each and every disgusting scar, about my frame, about my skin, about every nauseating and vile quality my body has taken on. when i look in the mirror, its understandable he doesn't want me around.

my heart, despite this, still plagues me.

the first thing i think of is to go to her. to go to komaru, to be able to plead to her instead of settling for my bed covers and the suffocating walls of the dormitory.

yet, i hesitate - the last thing i want is to place the burden on her. komaru did nothing. she didn't cause my pain, nor is she responsible for it. yet all i want and all i need is to see her face.

when i finally knock on her door, her expression quickly twists from confusion to worry as she searches my eyes. she takes my hand and guides me back to her room, sitting me down next to her.

when she cradles me, i don't flinch; i simply rock back and forth in time with her, allowing her to comfort me. a warm, fluttering sensation erupts in my stomach. it's familiar.

when she calls my name - that dreaded, awful name, belonging to a woman undeserving of all the honeyed praise she's gifted me - it softens.

toko fukawa. a name i despise. a name i have come to truly reset the sound of.

yet when it comes out of her mouth, it's coated in syrup and delicate care, as if she's nurtured it with her presence.

i've come to terms with my own worth (or lack thereof), learning not to fight it. yet when someone like her is willing to hold me, to speak of my name with such admiration - that thought disintegrates, following my fear. i feel the film of sorrow being washed off by her gentle and loving touch.

each time i look at her, i catch a glimpse of heaven.

i look down, and find myself staring at a shard of hell. i float aimlessly in purgatory, her face reflecting off me and charging my heart towards her.

originally, she'd serve as a replacement, nothing more and nothing less. a stand-in for the one i really desire -- yet now, there's nothing i'd rather have.