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Dear Akito,
I know that I’m the person you want to see the least in the world right now, and I respect that. That’s why I’m writing to you, so that I can get my message across without you seeing my face. I hope this is a good arrangement for you. I don’t need you to reply, but please, just listen to my words one more time.
First of all - I’m sorry. I’m sorry that I wasn’t a better partner to you. When you approached me on the street corner that day, I didn’t know what to expect. I’d taken notice of you but never expected you to approach me, let alone ask me to be your singing partner. I didn’t know what to feel when we sang that day, but I knew I felt good, standing next to you and singing our hearts out. It made me happy, and I knew it made you happy too. So, I’m sorry that my selfish desires have robbed us both of that opportunity. Seeing your shocked face in the livehouse made me upset and perhaps a little guilty, but deep down, I know this is the best decision for both of us.
To tell you the truth, before you spoke to me for the first time, I was simply living out my days in simple fantasises, watching the monotonous scenery go by me. As I sang, I felt a rush of rebellion and it made me feel free, but even then I could tell something was missing. I thought it might’ve been because I was so incredibly new to singing. My technique was there as a result of my piano and violin lessons, but singing was an entirely new skill set that I needed to learn. But then you came along - and that feeling disappeared. My skill hadn’t changed in the slightest and yet, when I sang with you, I felt complete. Even the first time we sang together I knew that this was it - the person I wanted to sing with, the person that made me feel whole. For the year and a bit we spent as partners, I felt like a whole new person. According to you, I don’t show it much in my expressions, but I truly was happy to call you my partner.
At the same time, however, another feeling also lingered within my chest. The way you sing always stood out to me - full of energy, passion and drive. You’d work to surpass RAD WEEKEND even if it killed you. You’ve been serious about your goals for the longest time. I lack that. I’d have done anything that wasn’t classical music, anything to go against my father. I feel as though I’m not serious enough about it all to be worthy of standing next to you on that stage. You said it yourself, ‘saying you’re going to surpass RAD WEEKEND isn’t something you can say half-heartedly’. But, Shiraishi and Azusawa aren’t the ones with weak resolve - it’s me.
Before I chose to sing on that street corner, I was looking for any way to rebel against my father, it didn’t matter what I did. As long as it was something that made him angry, I was fine with that. I just happened to stumble onto street music, and that’s where I found you. My simple attempt to find something to help me rebel against my father turned into a partnership that I valued dearly and wouldn’t trade for the world. When we stood on stage singing together, I had to squint my eyes at the shining light. We were able to escape into the back alleys and laugh without a care in the world. It filled my heart with warmth; a warmth I wasn’t sure I’d ever felt before. In a strange way, it felt like home, or what a home should feel like.
But, the more our partnership progressed, the more guilt I felt. I didn’t come into this because I had a passion for street music, I’d never entertained the idea of street music until I found myself standing on a street corner with a microphone in my hand. I didn’t witness RAD WEEKEND like you and Shiraishi did - I hadn’t even heard about it until you suggested we surpass it together. How can I surpass something I’ve never witnessed? How can I surpass it when my interest in street music was born purely from spite, nothing more? I’m not worthy enough to stand on that stage with you when you surpass that night. You deserve to fill that stage with your endless passion without being dragged down by a half-hearted person like myself.
I don’t regret the time I spent with you, not one bit, Akito. You truly made me feel welcome on this street, and I will thank you eternally for that even as we go our separate ways. You were my first ever proper friend, and the experiences we had together I will cherish for as long as I live. Thank you Akito, truly, for helping me experience the joys of life I hadn’t been able to go through yet - you’ve been nothing but good to me. It’s been a good learning experience for me. I hope you found our friendship enjoyable too.
To be honest, I haven’t been entirely truthful with you, all this time. It’s human nature to keep secrets, but I can’t help but feel guilty each time I keep one, even innocent ones. And to be truthful, I’ve had something on my mind for a long time. I can’t pinpoint when exactly I started thinking like this, but it’s been a while. I don’t know what kind of feeling it is, but I think it feels good. For some reason, I felt bad keeping it from you even though I had no idea what it was. I was planning on telling you how I felt soon, but one thing let to another and now we’re here. Honestly, I’m sorry for not telling you there was something on my mind sooner. It could’ve impacted our performances, so I’m sorry for keeping it to myself.
I still don’t know exactly how I feel. Maybe it’s because of the memories of the scolding that still ring out clearly in my head - I don’t know, I’ve never been good at feelings. But, I’ve been feeling like this since way before the incident at the livehouse, I know that. If I’ve been feeling like this for such a long time, it must be true, right? These must be my true feelings, fake feelings wouldn’t stay for this long, right? But…
I can’t help but think I might’ve permanently messed up my feelings with what I did to you. With what I said to you. I don’t think I - we - can ever come back from it. Don’t get me wrong, I deserved what I got from you and I don’t expect you to apologise, not at all. I just think that the way I went about things has ruined my feelings for myself. I feel as though I can’t indulge in these feelings any longer because of what I said to you.
Akito, I deeply regret what I said to you. I am half-hearted and don’t deserve to stand next to you on stage when you surpass RAD WEEKEND, but your music has so much meaning and is worth all the effort you put into it. Your dreams aren’t childish and it’s fine to be chasing something that most people haven’t heard of - if it’s important to you, then chase it. Put your whole soul into it if you want to. Live life however you wish, don’t let anybody dictate to you, life will be miserable if you do.
Please, Akito
If possible, please don’t go too far
If you could, please don’t hurt me
Don’t worry about me, stay away
Shut your eyes tightly and ignore the conflict
You don’t need to pay me back, talk to me
Akito, I need to let you go and let you chase your dream of surpassing that night without having to drag around deadweight - you deserve so much better than me, but at the same time, I need you so close to me. I need to feel your warmth again, I need to feel your arms tight around me while playing with my hair, telling me that everything will be okay.
Akito, I’m so, so deeply in love with you. I’m so in love with you that it’s painful. I want to confess to you so badly, by the tree in the north of Vivid Street (people use it for love confessions often, right?) and just love you freely without judgement or fear. I want the word ‘partner’ to mean more to us than just simply ‘singing partner’. I want to call you my boyfriend with pride, for us to perform love songs up on stage with our voices unwavering. I so, so, so want to kiss you, to trace lines around your freckles and remind you just how beautiful you are.
But I can’t.
Because I messed it all up.
I want you to stay, but I know you need to leave as it’s best for both of us, but I wish you’d stay, I really do.
I’m sorry for dumping this all on you. You don’t have to reciprocate. I wouldn’t even blame you if you didn’t make it this far. But, if you are still reading this, Akito, then…
I love you.
From, Toya.
…
The paper crumpled under the pale boy’s grasp. Tears dropped onto the page with increasing speed, causing the ink to run and smear the words. The risk of it tearing grew as he pulled it close to his chest as he lay in bed, his barely-contained sobs escaping his chest with an increasing ache in his chest.