He sighed, sweating against the wooden wall, the frigid air surrounding him doing nothing to cool him off. His fist gripped the heated microphone, his other hand near his mouth as he coughed into his palm. He could feel the vibrations of his phone in his pocket, yet he didn't bother pulling it out to look at whoever was calling or texting him. As much as the feeling was frustrating, pulling a part of him towards actually answering, the adrenaline rushing through him overpowered it.
He stepped forwards, a nauseating feeling overtaking him as he fell back into the wall, his grasp on the microphone loosening. The emptiness of the room became almost unnerving, the white walls seemingly holding no shadows from the furniture.
He blinked.
He's here for a reason. He isn't overworking himself.
Clearing his throat, he looked up at the screen, his hand swiftly moving to the side to select the same song. The music started up, his hand unconsciously, almost robotically moving the microphone up to his mouth as the lyrics began.
'atama de wakatte wa nageita
korogatteku youso wo waratta'
His voice was strained, on the verge of cracking every few syllables, a product of his hours of practicing. Despite his apparent physical and vocal exhaustion, his pitch held itself high enough the entire time, able to match almost perfectly with any of the incoming notes.
'kimi mo YES YES iki wo nonde
saihai wa soko ni an da
heddoshotto sawagu omoi no'
The words shot out of his mouth, the lyrics memorized in his memory; both his past and his current path only there to benefit him for that moment, for this act.
He could feel the nausea flowing through his blood, identical to that of the adrenaline. As the song came to an end, the music fading out, he could see a flash of vibrant orange in his mind, tinted ever-so-slightly by a duller blue. The vivid color seemed to lighten the blander one, yet it still overpowered it.
He shook his head, quickly sitting down on the black seats as the illness finally took over as his main feeling, pushing the former motivation and determination to the side. His heart pumped rapidly, carving an uncomfortable, almost drowsy feeling into his head.
An was going to scream at him, definitely.
He couldn't find it in himself to be annoyed by that, though, as his lips tilted upwards into a faint smile. Rather, the idea of it seemed to only encourage him to indulge in this fantasy even further.
•—•—•—•—•—•—•—•—•—•—•—•—•—•—•
"Looking for competitors, available from two to nine P.M..." Akito murmured, reading the flyer in his hands. He looked at Ena, who was peering at it from over his shoulder.
"Hmm? Another thing about the festival?" The brunette asked, as if she hadn't noticed the multitude of tents and stalls set up in nearby areas.
"I guess," he shrugged. "It's kind of obvious they are, though," he tilted his head towards her, gaze directed at the aforementioned grounds.
"Hey," she glared at him, crossing her arms defensively, "they could be used the tents for anything."
"Like what?" He asked, a faint smirk played on his face.
"How am I supposed to know?" She hissed and rolled her eyes, earning a quick snort from the ginger.
As he was about to place the flyer back on the table he had gotten it from, his sister lightly grabbed his wrist.
"What?" He cocked his head to the side, his thumbs creasing the paper.
"Are you gonna participate? Looks like it makes a shit ton of money, and you're into it," she said thoughtfully, her pitch lifting up at the end.
"Huh." The noise escaped his lips, his brows furrowing as he moved his fist upwards, nearly dropping the paper.
Joining a festival.
It'd be fun, wouldn't it.
Fun.
That word triggered something bitter in Akito's heart, his thumb and forefinger tearing a small rip into the corner of the sheet, his own minor, useless mark ingrained into it.
How was it supposed to be fun? Why should it be entertaining? Was it meant to be?
It felt as if his own mind was mocking him, using vocabulary he had since come to hate. Even more, it made him want to claim it was Ena's fault that deep-rooted hatred seeped out again. It wasn't his fault the word made him feel that way.
He could feel the tension in his muscles, the arriving pain from it shocking him out of his thoughts. He huffed, crumpling the paper into a ball before shoving it into his pocket, telling himself he'd look at it later.
"I don't think so," he replied uneasily, only then realizing he had yet to respond, taking a quick glance at the specified date before turning away. "'ts too close to my live event."
"Oh. Huh, that sucks," she sighed, stepping away from the table. "Anyways! Mind if we head over to this café I heard about? I heard it has some pretty cute stuff!" She said cheerfully, ignorant of Akito's apparent frustration.
She knew better than to point it out by now.
"Seriously?" He groaned, feigned annoyance plastered on his face. Feigned and real frustration. "I thought you moved on from that phase."
"Hey!"
He laughed, following behind the brunette, not aware of the ringing from his phone. For once, the sound was filtered out of his ears, a filter that was composed of overbearing anger and true relaxation.
•—•—•—•—•—•—•—•—•—•—•—•—•—•—•
"Toya! The hell were you?" An groaned, slamming her hands onto her hips as she watched him approach his apartment door.
"Out," he responded, tapping on his phone as he gave up on whatever. "Can I go into my apartment now?"
"Dude, it's two in the goddamn morning," she scolded him, her eyes fixated on him as if she were seconds away from punching him. "I tried texting you hours ago, you know."
"Sorry," he nodded in response, walking towards his door before An's hand latched onto his shoulder.
"No. Toya, this is getting concerning. This is what, your fourth time in a row coming home this late!" She exclaimed, an unidentifiable emotion in her eyes.
"I know," he said sharply, narrowing his eyes as he opened his door. "Night." He slammed the door shut as she gawked at him, walking over to his couch.
"Wait- Toya! Dude!" An wailed at the now closed door.
It was getting out of hand.
How dumb was Toya to do this? That was her sole thought. Why? Why the hell would he be willing to sacrifice his health?
She sighed, already becoming accustomed to this newly-arrived habit, briefly wondering if this was how he felt back then. Maybe.
Maybe.
She turned around, leaving the floor warily.
•—•—•—•—•—•—•—•—•—•—•—•—•—•—•
WORD COUNT: 1131
me when I forget to build upon two major plot points
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VIVIDWords | AkiToya (Project Sekai)
Fanfiction|| "Hey, Ena, do you think they'd still be there?" "Probably not. It's been years." || Akito and Ena return to their homes, yet life decides to separate them from their old partners. || SEQUEL TO EDITOR || || This isn't Ena focused, despite her bei...
