Lying is a Sin, A Sin Hanagaki Takemichi Commits Too Often

Disgusting - The Wedding Part 2

No.

No, that's not right.

He turns away, trying to pay attention to the embarrassing story Mikey is telling about Emma. The bride in turn yelling curses at him to stop, Hina chuckling by her side. He feels a hand hesitantly itching across his thigh, it's Kazutora. He wants to smile at him, to wipe that concerned look of his clueless adorable little face. But he can't, his mind won't slow down enough for him to do something so simple like smile.

Instead, he finds himself opening his clenched hand, an offering to Kazutora to hold. That latter does so hastily, entwining their fingers. Ever since Takemichi nearly fainted the morning before in front of him, Kazutora had been even more clingy than usual. He didn't mind. Kazutora's company was always welcome. But he didn't want to worry the poor guy, especially not on a night like this, people are supposed to be celebrating.

Kazutora leans closer to whisper, "You keep looking off into the distance...are you okay?"

He wasn't. He was. He was fine. His mind was just playing tricks on him, yeah, that's all. Just from sleep deprivation, that's all it was truly. Takemichi finds himself staring at Kazutora instead of answering at first. He tries to stop it, but he can't. His mind twists and contorts Kazutora's features. His eyes become more sunken in, the iris' turning from sunflower yellow to dark muddy brown, ones rather than filled with warmth and concern, are glazed over with disgust and hatred. His hair curls more, and changes from black and blond to light brown. His jaw more soft, his nose more pinched, lips downturned into a snarl.

His mother.

He couldn't look away. Couldn't blink. Couldn't breathe. His mother was sitting right in front of him, so clear. Before, he kept feeling like someone was watching him, and he'd catch glimpses of a face staring right through him. But it had been fuzzy, and never around long enough for him to recognise who it was.

But now it was clear. He was fucking hallucinating. He wanted to shake his head, squeeze his eyes shut, do anything that would make Kazutora come back. But he couldn't. He couldn't break the stare he held with her-him (Kazutora?) his mother.

The way she looked at him, it was the same as it was all those years ago. It made him feel sick. No. Yes. No, he was sick. He didn't just feel it. He had to go.

He had to leave.

Go.

Go.

Go.

Go.

Leave.

Leave.

GET OUT OF THERE TAKEMICHI!

He stood up abruptly, forcing Kazutora's hand out of his. Wait- Kazutora- He looked down, Kazutora was looking at him, a confused and worried expression adorning his face. He could feel everyone's eyes on him.

"Uh, I'm sorry, I have to go to the bathroom," he forced out before rushing off. Both Kazutora and Mikey made the move to go after him, noticing something wasn't right. But Naoto beat them to it.

"I'll go check on him, he's been having some uh...stomach issues lately, so that's probably all it is." And just like Takemichi, he was gone just as quick leaving those at the table confused and slightly worried.

Hina's grip tightening on her fork and she stared down at the table, her mind running too fast for her to comprehend. But she could make out one thing clearly, Takemichi needs help.

.

His grip on the toilet seat, his knees on the hard tile floor, his throat, they all ached. He had barely made it to the toilet before he threw up. And he couldn't stop, his mind kept recreating his mother looking down at him in disgust and it made his stomach churn. He heard the door to the bathroom open and close and he squeezed his eyes shut. Hoping it wasn't Kazutora, or Mikey or literally anybody.

"Takemichi," It was Naoto. Of course it was.

Takemichi didn't want to leave the stall, terrified that he wouldn't see Naoto, that he would see his mother again. He couldn't stop it anymore. He couldn't stop the loud sob from leaving his raw throat. His tears, drool, snot and vomit, all making a soup of distress in the toilet bowl. He was disgusting. He was pathetic. His mother was right to look down at him in such a way. It was what he deserved. He deserved this shortened horrible life. He deserved this terminal illness. He deserved to be loved by no one.

He heard a sigh and some shuffling before a thump on the other side of the stall door. And then sliding and another thump, Naoto was sitting on the floor on the other side. No, Takemichi isn't worth that. Naoto shouldn't be sitting on the dirty floor.

"Na-Naoto...get up," he croaked out, hands clenching.

"No, not unless you come out."

"You're in a suit, get off the dirty floor."

"You're on the floor aren't you?" Naoto shot back. Takemichi stayed silent, the former continued, "Something happened. What is it? And don't you dare fucking lie to me Takemichi."

He stayed quite some more before he was finally able to swallow the lump in his throat, his hands were shaking but he slowly reached for the flush button, draining his disgusting bodily fluids. His legs trembled and he stumbled at first but he finally stood and hesitantly undid the latch on the door.

He almost fell once more but Naoto caught him, wrapping his arms tightly around his shoulders. Takemichi let his body fall limp, he was so tired.

"I was hallucinating," he admitted. He wishes he didn't have to feel Naoto still. Because both Naoto and he knew what this meant. Hallucinations, psychosis, were all signs of being in the later stages of the illness, of his life. Takemichi didn't explain further that he saw his mother. Naoto may have known a lot about him, but he didn't know about his mother. And he wasn't going to find out. Not now anyway.