Rock Bottom • Daisuga

Prolougue

Music is the only thing that matters... nothing else.
At least that's what Sugawara (Suga) tried telling himself as he played his precious violin.

His fingers moved quickly, playing the heart breaking lullaby he had heard so many times as a child.

He hadn't meant to end up here... Standing on the school stage, playing his violin so passionately he thought his fingers would fall off.

Warm, salty tears rolled down his cheeks as he did this. Every note reminded him of Her. His mom, the only family he had had left.

He remembered the flashing lights of the ambulance... His mother clutching his hand as the doctors tried to stop the blood from flowing. He had sobbed as he was now.

He felt weak... The bruises on his arms proved that, since hurting himself had become a habit since his mother's death. He continued to play, the solemn and sad lullaby only making the tears run faster.

While all of this was going on in the boy's head, he was unaware of the black-clad rocker sitting in the back of the theater. Chocolate eyes wide in amazement at this silver haired beauty that was crying on the stage.

He couldn't see his face, back turned to him, but he was still in wonder. 'What could have possibly made him cry?' The boy thought.

A whole bunch of reasons really. The amount of pain in Suga's head was unimaginable to the awe-struck rocker.

As the player finished, he let his arms drop to his sides, head hanging. As the dark haired boy in the back turned to leave the few words he heard were, "I'm sorry mom..." In the faintest of whispers.

If it was up to him, he'd do anything to make whatever was making the beautiful boy sad, go away.

He stayed at those words... Sitting back down in the chair numbered 104 just to watch the violinist.

Back still facing the other boy, Suga slowly fell to his knees. Dropping his violin, sobs ripped apart his vocal chords. Suga hurt...He hurt so bad he wanted to scream help until his voice was raw.

He didn't.

All he did was cry and for that he was weak. He cried for his mom, who loved him unconditionally. He cried for his asshole of a dad who was never around. He cried for the absolute hatred he had for himself as he sat on his knees in that cold theater.

His mind told him everything bad that happened to him was his fault. It practically screamed that he was not needed in this world.

As the scene around him spun, he was vaguely aware of the theater door shutting. He didn't care... He didn't care about anything. Nobody, nothing. The only thing that matters is the music...

He repeated that as he weakly stood up. His pale fingers grasped the neck of his violin, curling into the position of a note, any note...

He picked up the bow and brought it to the instrument at his throat.

As the first note rang out, he closed his eyes, hoping that the music would bring back his sanity and happiness from the twisted world he was born in...

It didn't.