🌻 Akitoya - Blood & Sunflowers

Chapter 4

The boy with red hair; Akito, is sleeping on my knee when I wake up again. I lie there in the dark until the sun comes up. In the daylight, I can see cherry blossom trees starting to bloom, but it doesn't make me feel any better.
Who is this boy to me? What happened . . . ?
I touch his neck. "Akito, wake up."
"Five more minutes, dad. It's the weekend for goodness sake . . . . ."
"Akito." I repeat.
His head springs up. "Touya?"
My father comes into the room. "Touya, it's time to go home." He looks crisp in a blue shirt and tie, while Akito looks like he stayed up all night (he probably did) with his rumpled hair and dark shadows under his eyes.

Le temps a passé . . . .
(Time passed)

The day I regained my strength, my father stands over me as I lean over the piano. "Now, just like you used to. You need to get back into practice after your illness, son." "Yes, father." He flips through a book of sheet music and settles on a song; setting it down in front of me.

That day, I played and played until my fingers cramped and my head spun with exhaustion. He wouldn't let me stop until I got it perfect.

A several months later, Akito and I stand together on the sidewalk at Vivid Street. He hands me a microphone. Things have gotten better between us, but Akito still has to constantly recount me stories of things I can't remember. It's so awkward sometimes, and I hate it. He always looks so sad when he explains things. My father has been drilling me nonstop, and I barely got any sleep between that, singing, and studying for finals. I missed midterms, and Akito missed them too because of me.

"I'm going to perform in a classical music concert next week." I announced. Father has been preparing me for this for weeks, and has finally become satisfied enough with my playing to let me do so in front of an audience.
"But . . . . you quit classical music a long time ago."
I'm reminded again of how much of my life is missing from memory. Even after all this time . . . . My hands shake. I drop the mic. It hits the ground with a bang; high-pitched feedback echoes through the street.

After a moment, Akito gently pulls me into a hug. Suddenly, my head feels warm and fuzzy; my legs wobble, and I drop unconscious.