MY ORDINARY LIFE, tokyorev

48 | 𝐃𝐄𝐀𝐓𝐇 𝐆𝐎𝐄𝐒 𝐖𝐈𝐓𝐇𝐎𝐔𝐓 𝐒𝐀𝐘𝐈𝐍𝐆

The first braid Ran cut was the right one. Choice aside, it didn't matter which one came first, but the reason. Many years ago, a friendship turned one year old before inevitably ending, as abrupt as the snap of the scissors in his hand.

"You distract me," Accuracy aside, your sudden rejection leaves his heart distraught. Even when you speak, the unwavering words dismiss all past feelings, as if they were never there. "I can't afford that."

A younger Ran, whose violet hues dim under the darkness of your voice, takes a step back. Stretching behind him is the street most of your memories have paved, reaching beyond you as well. Wide; decorated by simple streetlights. Standing symmetrically on both sides, they warn people of the alleyways hiding close by.

He catches his breath, no cars passing by but feeling the hit in the stabs to his heart. Rarely any cars drive through, the dark grey of the pavement tinted a drowning black from the cowardly sun.

"We are not friends anymore." Lacking any tone, your voice doesn't skip nor falter. You take a step back; Ran does so forward. Your gaze demands him to stop, a blink of regret shining upon it. "Goodbye, Tani."

The lights flicker, paving the way for Ran to scramble reaching out to you. His outstretched hand lines up with your back, and just as quickly as he screams out your name, his eyes slide down to the floor he has slipped on.

You don't turn back, not even when he grunts, gulping down a sob as well as his feebleness. Ran has never been puny, but his heart is a thin glass you and Rindou can see through.

And much like broken glass slicing past skin, his scraped knees engulf him in a searing beg for help. In the dull, almost yellowing light from above, they screech in a vivid red bringing him shudders.

"Wa— Wait!" Panting, he tries to pull himself up. It looks easy when he play fights with Rindou on the fluffy carpet in his living room, alas now his arms tremble, snapping under their own force as his legs sting. He wails, thick with desperation. "Don't go! Don't leave me!"

Echoing throughout the ghostly street, your steps turn lighter until they can't be heard. Lights scintillate, and a gust of wind shakes the posts that protect them, creaking.

Forced to ignore the inscrutable ache in your chest as it twists and turns while Ran struggles to plead through his lament, your frame disappears and your shadow follows behind.

Only Ran remains, light pouring down on him, on his knees painted in a dark red. With just his shadow for comfort, even when it mixes in with the darkness around.

"Come back." He utters a fragile whimper, words breaking from a tap of the breeze. Sitting down on the frosty concrete, knees to his chest and arms wrapped around them. Trickles of blood slide down and stain his pale skin. "We are friends."

Giving out above him, the lightbulb fuzzes before turning off. In the darkness, Ran has never felt lonelier; wishing he could be careless and let Rindou see him like this, but his mind berates him. He's the oldest, he can't look like this in front of him.

A heart so young and troubled, struggling to comprehend where this yearning comes from —his own beaten up heart.

The second braid Ran cuts doesn't fall as gracefully as the snow on the day you left him for the second time. Izana had died, and what little care he could tend to your heart —no matter how hopeless it may sound— he took along with him.

Same stupid nickname, same heartless departure. What was left of your heart was in the palm of his gloved hand, reflected on the bracelet you rejected. Where many years ago you two met, it sure felt like he'd never see you again.