My suspension was supposed to last three weeks. A clean number. A temporary exile. But time bent strangely when you were alone.
I stopped going to work. I stopped answering messages. I stopped pretending I could hold myself together. My apartment turned into a graveyard of silence, the walls echoing only with the sound of rain against the glass—and Hasegawa's voice, still loyal, still stubborn, calling me "senpai" from outside the door.
He kept coming.
Every few days, like clockwork, he showed up. He never stayed long, never pushed too hard. Just his voice, muffled by wood and weather: "Senpai, I brought you something to eat."
Or "I'll wait here for a bit, okay?"
Or just… "I'll come back tomorrow."
I never opened the door. I couldn't.
But even then, I wasn't prepared for the knock that came without his voice.
It was late. The hour when everything slows down and thoughts get loud. I'd been lying on the floor of my living room, watching the ceiling, wondering what version of myself I would resurrect when I returned to school—if I returned at all.
Then, three short knocks. Not impatient. Not urgent. Just… certain.
I rose to check the peephole, expecting a package, a neighbour, maybe Hasegawa in a mood shift.
But it was him. Papa.
My breath caught. My spine went stiff.
I should've walked away, should've locked every bolt and buried myself under a thousand pillows and prayed for the morning to come.
But I didn't. I opened the door.
How foolish.
Papa smiled. That familiar, honey-laced smile. Only now, it was soaked in something vile, like syrup masking poison.
The moment he stepped inside, I knew I had made a mistake.
"I know you're upset," he said calmly, almost with a chuckle. "But… you can't keep running away from me, Daichi."
I stayed silent, pressing myself into the edge of the armrest, as if I could disappear into the structure of the sofa itself.
And then he said it.
"The day I found out you weren't my son, all I wanted was to kill that bitch. But then I saw you and thought… yes. Yes. I'll kill her—through you."
He loomed over me now, shadow stretching long and hungry.
"And you know what?" His voice dipped into something jagged. "I liked that idea. I liked that pain. Because you were always mine. Mine to raise. Mine to play with. Mine to keep."
He grinned. I couldn't move. Couldn't breathe.
He bent lower, one hand brushing against my shoulder. I flinched like it burned.
"Don't you want to play again, Daichi? Just like we used to…?"
"No… Get away from me!"
He laughed. Laughed.
"Cry all you want. No one's going to save you. No one can turn me down. Not you."
I pushed. Kicked. Screamed. But the fear clotted in my limbs. I was weak—too tired, too sick of everything. My body had been a warzone for years, and it had nothing left to give.
Tears broke free, hot and bitter.
I cried.
Not like a boy. Not like a man. Just… a creature begging for something—anything—to stop.
My vision blurred. The world tilted. And through it all, his voice slithered through me.
"You were made for this, Daichi…"
And then—
Another voice. "Senpai…?"
I blinked.
Papa was gone. The room was gone. I was under a slide in a neighborhood park, the cement above my head dripping with rain. The ground was damp, the air thick with summer heat. And standing there, soaked to the bone, his bangs stuck to his forehead, was Hasegawa.
His eyes were wide. So worried. So real.
I pushed him away without thinking. "Leave me alone."
I stumbled into the rain, barefoot and shaking, and he followed.
"Wait—senpai, stop—"
I collapsed somewhere between the swings and the bench. My knees gave out.
And he caught me.
He didn't flinch, didn't speak. Just pulled me in, let me bury my face in his chest like some broken animal, sobbing in the open, surrounded by the distant laughter of children and the rhythm of falling rain.
"It's okay… cry as much as you want, senpai," he whispered, his voice quiet, like the summer drizzle that softened the world around us. "I'm here with you…"
And I cried. So loud I couldn't hear the rain. I cried for Mio, for Mama. For the boy I used to be. For the boy I never got to be.
But I couldn't tell Hasegawa.
So after that night, I disappeared again. I ran. And then, a week passed. So, summer came—and I vanished for the whole break.
No calls. No texts. No goodbye.
Because even though I had broken down in Hasegawa's arms, even though some small, tired part of me had reached for him... I still didn't believe I was worth being saved.