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The first person to smile at Tooru was Haise.
Tooru’d only been inside the CCG main building for a few hours. There’d been so many aliens, all of them running around and pushing him in different directions and making him get new clothes because the clothes he’d been wearing were all bloody and apparently Tooru had killed the human man he had been living with but he was pretty sure that it’d been the aliens again and he couldn’t feel anything.
The aliens had told him that they wanted him to sing. Tooru hated his voice, he’d hate his voice for the rest of his life, but they liked it, and so they’d taken him from the slums and brought him to the big building with the cleaner clothes and better food and fake grass and kids. So many other kids.
He sat in the cafeteria, alone at a table shoved to the side of the room. All the other kids were talking to each other and laughing and pushing and shoving and Tooru stayed in the corner. He didn’t want to meet any of them. He assumed they would all hate him. Everyone had always hated him. The other starving, miserable kids in the slums had called him a freak and that had only gotten worse after the aliens had killed his family and convinced the other kids in the slums that it’d been him. Tooru had never known how to make friends. He’d never even tried before.
So he stayed in the corner, alone, until Haise came over to him.
“You’re new,” the white-haired boy said, looking down at Tooru.
Tooru continued eating his sandwich. He’d only had bread a few times before, and most of the time, it was moldy and soggy. “Yes,” he said, his voice sounding distant even to him. He didn’t want to talk to the boy, he was pretty sure boys were dangerous, that they-
And then Haise smiled, his eyes slowly sliding closed as he did, and it was warm. For a few seconds, the fog in Tooru’s mind was shoved away by the smile, by the warmth and the light and everything, everything else about the smile.
It hadn’t been like the smiles he’d get from men on the street or the twisted smiles his father would throw at him before he’d get punished. It was warm and kind and Tooru had never had much experience with the sun, there hadn’t been a lot of it in the slums, but he imagined that being directly under it would feel exactly like Haise’s smile.
No one had ever looked at him like he was worth being kind to before.
The older boy sat down across from Tooru, reaching out a hand for him to shake. “I’m Haise. Welcome to CCG, it’s not that bad here. They just make us sing a lot. What’s your name?”
And Tooru never forgot the way Haise’s hand felt on his. The first time someone had touched him without trying to hurt him.
For the first time in months, the first time since his family had died, Tooru felt something.
For the first time in probably his entire life, he felt safe.
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He wished that had never happened. He wished he’d never relearned how to feel things because Haise was gone and Tooru was alone again.
The stage still had blood on it from the last round, where Haise had tried to beat Nimura to death. Tooru didn’t really understand why, but they’d all watched his performance in last year’s competition and it’d been… intense.
So Tooru couldn’t really blame Haise for snapping. Actually, he’d felt something twist into place inside of his chest when he’d seen the kind man, the one who was always warm and bright, try to kill someone.
Maybe Tooru wasn’t as alone as he thought he was. Maybe Haise was exactly like him, with the same violence mess in his head and the same blood underneath his fingernails. Of course it’d be the person who’d been Tooru’s light for so many years, the person who he sang every song for, who’d finally break through his loneliness and show him that he wasn’t alone. That maybe he wasn’t the only liar.
But then Haise had disappeared. He hadn’t been shot by the aliens, but he’d disappeared anyway in a haze of smoke and fog. The aliens would kill him when they found him, if he wasn’t dead already, and there was nothing Tooru could do about it but sit in his tiny cell and wait.
Wait for something.
Wait for death.
Because there wasn’t a point. If Haise wasn’t there, then there wasn’t a point to anything, no point in trying to keep going, to keep fighting.
Tooru didn’t want to win. He didn’t even remember who he was supposed to be singing against next.
There was nothing but the fog and the darkness, the darkness that had always clung to him, because he’d lost his light and he was completely alone.
The robots didn’t say anything when they came into his cell. They silently forced him to his feet and shoved him down the long hallway to the practice room.
He’d been there with Saiko a few hours ago. Or maybe a few days ago. Or maybe it’d been weeks.
Didn’t matter, because Saiko was dead.
They’d stood in nearly the exact place Tooru was standing, the center of the practice room, when they’d agreed not to try and throw the round for each other. They’d decided they were both going to try their best and whatever happened happened.
Maybe Tooru should have given up. That would’ve been the kinder thing to do. The thing a good person would’ve done.
Really, Saiko had most likely done a better job than he had. It was an up-tempo song, and Tooru was better at ballads. He hated having to act the way they were expected to during happy songs. Saiko had always been better at being happy than Tooru.
She’d lost by two points.
Her blood had stayed on his skin, underneath his clothes, for two hours.
“Oh.”
Tooru turned around to see Kuki standing in the doorway, the other boy looking extremely unimpressed. Though that was really just what he looked like.
“You look bad.”
Tooru frowned. “You look worse.”
And it was probably true. Tooru had no idea how he looked right then and he didn’t particularly care, but however bad it was, it couldn’t have been worse than how Kuki looked. Massive bags hung under his eyes, as if he hadn’t slept in weeks even though the competition had only been going on for…
Maybe it really had been weeks.
His hair was messier than usual too. Of course, it’d get combed before he went onstage, but normally at CCG he’d throw a fit if any of them tried to get him to leave his room before he’d gotten his appearance in order.
He’d always been like that- always so meticulous about everything, always trying to look like he was perfect. Maybe that was why everyone had kinda assumed he would be the shoo-in to win Alien Stage.
And Tooru had to sing against him.
A nameless alien walked into the room. Tooru preferred the robots. “How are you both feeling?” they asked, showing their teeth in a horrific imitation of a smile. Sometimes they would put effort into mimicking human expressions to try and make their prey feel more at home. It never worked.
The alien didn’t wait for an answer before they kept talking. “This has been a very exciting competition so far for all of us. I, for one, am a huge fan of both of you. I’m looking forward to seeing what you bring to the stage tomorrow.”
“Tomorrow?” Kuki asked, crossing his arms.
“Yes. You’ll have the rest of today and tonight to pick or, ideally, write a song and rehearse it a few times. Make sure it’s the best performance possible. I’ll be right outside if you need anything.” The alien bared their teeth again and then left, shutting the door firmly behind them.
Neither of the boys said anything for a few seconds.
“Well? What genre of song do you want?”
Tooru shrugged, and Kuki sighed. “You have to have an opinion.”
“Pick whatever you want.”
“The song I write might not work well for you.”
“I don’t care.”
“When was the last time you ate?”
“What’s that got to do with anything?”
Kuki shrugged, his face still blank. “Your performance will be shit if you haven’t eaten.”
“That just makes it easier for you to win, doesn’t it?”
When the other boy didn’t respond to that, Tooru sighed and walked over to the table. The aliens had already left empty paper out, presumably for them to write some music on, but there were also some music sheets that were already filled in, lying to the side in a neat pile. That was probably for if they couldn’t get their shit together and write a song fast enough.
Alien Stage had always boasted how the humans competing wrote their own music for each round of the competition. Clearly that was a lie.
The easiest option would just be to look through the stack of songs and find one that fit his and Kuki’s styles and just go with it.
But Tooru knew Kuki would never agree to that. The other boy had always wanted to be the best at everything, even things Tooru was fairly sure were not competitions. He’d want to write his own music to prove something to… the world and the other aliens, Tooru guessed.
And, deep down, Tooru did enjoy writing his own music. He’d never been as good at it as Kuki was, but he’d written a few songs.
Haise had taught him how to do that. They’d sat together under a tree in the garden, the few times Tooru had been able to get Haise’s attention, and they’d written together, the older boy gently correcting Tooru whenever he did something wrong.
What could Tooru even write about if Haise wasn’t there?
“Just write something,” he muttered, picking empty sheets of paper off of the table and thrusting them at Kuki. “You’re better at it than I am.”
“This is supposed to be a collaboration.”
“It’ll look better for you if we don’t collaborate and you do all the work. You can brag about that before we sing.”
Kuki opened his mouth to say something but nothing came out and Tooru was so tired and it was so hard to feel anything so he just turned and walked away and watched from as far away as possible as Kuki sat down and started writing.
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“This is not what I expected you to write.”
Kuki blinked at Tooru. “What’d you expect me to write?”
“I don’t know. Something about… something about how you’re better than everyone else and how you deserve to win. That’s what most of the stuff on your album sounds like, anyway.”
“I’m allowed to write music that’s not rock music.”
“But it’s-”
“Is the song not good?”
Of course Kuki knew it was good, it was actually phenomenal and if it’d been released as part of Kuki’s album, then it’d probably have made his Guardian millions, but Tooru wasn’t gonna tell him that.
“It’s fine. Let’s start practicing.”
“You sure you don’t want to add anything to say you helped write it?”
“No one’ll believe you wrote this.”
“You keep saying that.”
“I just mean it’s much more similar to a lot of the stuff I write than anything on your album.”
“Is it?” Kuki shrugged. “I didn’t really notice.”
Tooru didn’t really want to have to waste more energy arguing with him about the stupid song, so he just shrugged back. “It’s fine. It’s a good song.”
“Good.” Kuki pushed himself out of the chair and walked over to the nearest mic. When he reached it and Tooru didn’t follow him, he turned back around. “Well? Let’s start practicing.”
“Maybe later.”
“We have less than a day before we compete.”
“I know.”
“So we have to practice now so we’re at least-”
“What’s the point?”
“What do you mean, what’s the point?”
“We both know you’re gonna win, so why bother practicing? You wrote the song, we’ll make sure you know that. That’ll get you extra points, and you’re already more popular and a better singer than me. So you’ll win.”
“What are you talking about?”
“You want to win, don’t you?”
Tooru didn’t understand why Kuki was just staring at him like that, unmoving for a few seconds. If anything, that should’ve boosted the other boy’s ego. He should’ve been happy.
But instead he marched across the room until he was standing directly in front of Tooru, staring down at him and Tooru didn’t have the willpower to meet his gaze so he just stared at the wall behind him.
“I want to win,” Kuki said softly, more softly than Tooru had ever heard him speak before, “against someone who actually tries. Not someone who just gives up before the contest even starts.”
“Well, that’s too bad, then.”
“If you just give up, I’ll yield.”
Instantly Tooru shook his head. “No.”
“If you don’t at least pretend you’re trying to win, I won’t either. Neither of us’ll win the round.”
“What are you- why would you do that? Are you an idiot or something?”
Kuki shrugged, his face perfectly blank. “There’s no point in competing against someone who’s not even trying.”
“That’s not what they taught you at the CCG.”
Instead of responding to that, Kuki just walked back over to his mic. “We’ll sing through it once,” he said, like a decision had been made. Like he’d made the decision for Tooru. “Then we’ll see where we are.”
“I can’t-”
“Tooru.”
And Tooru didn’t really want to argue with the other boy and if Kuki didn’t try at all, there was theoretically a chance Tooru could win their round, so he marched over to the free mic.
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“Why are you adding a riff there?”
“Because I don’t like the way it sounds.”
“It sounds that way for a reason.”
“Probably a stupid reason.”
“You’re the one who didn’t want to write anything.”
Tooru grinned at Kuki, the background music they’d used a computer program to hurriedly and probably badly throw together still playing behind them. “You’re the one who wanted to practice. I’m adding a riff there.”
Kuki kept frowning, but it wasn’t his usual pissed-off frown.
Singing with the purple-haired boy hadn’t been as bad as Tooru had expected. In fact, the more they worked on the song, changing a few lyrics and notes as they went, the more Tooru enjoyed it. When he sang, he could forget about Haise and the contest and the fact that most of his friends were dead. All he needed to focus on, all he could focus on, was the singing and the way their voices melded together.
Besides Haise, Kuki had always been one of Tooru’s favorite people to sing with. Even when the other boy was being an asshole, their voices just melded together so well that it’d brought a few of the aliens to tears. Their Guardians had even asked for the two of them to make an album together, which Kuki had refused. He’d apparently just wanted to do his own solo thing before having to worry about other people dragging him down, and he’d actually gotten away with going against what the aliens wanted.
He’d always been like that. Stubborn, but somehow able to get away with things Tooru couldn’t.
But Tooru couldn’t resent Kuki when they were singing together and their voices flowed perfectly and when he looked over at the other boy, he was pretty sure he saw a faint smile on his face.
The door to the rehearsal studio was thrown open and they instantly jumped away from the mics, swiveling to face Urak.
The alien marched in, their teeth bared in another one of the faux smiles that the aliens loved. “Well!” they said as they looked between the two humans. “You two seem as if you’re hard at work, don’t you? I hate to disturb you but Tooru, will you come with me for a second?”
Slowly Tooru put the sheet music down on the nearest table and, keeping his head lowered, followed his Guardian out of the room and down the hallway. He didn’t look at Kuki.
As soon as he stepped out of the rehearsal room, reality crashed down on him again.
Haise was still gone, and no matter how much Tooru had enjoyed singing with Kuki, nothing would change that. Nothing would change the fact that Tooru would be dead in a few hours.
The air around him felt suffocating and he wanted to say something but there was nothing to do besides just follow along, blindly obedient, and he didn’t know what he would’ve said that could convince Urak to not lead him to wherever they were going.
Urak led him into a small room with a giant TV screen on the wall farthest from the door, several aliens gathered around it. Guardians of some of the other kids at the CCG. Most of their humans had already died. Tooru recognized most of them vaguely.
“You’ll be pleased to know that he and Kuki were hard at work practicing for tomorrow’s round,” Urak announced as they shut the door behind them. “It’ll be a very strong performance.”
One of the aliens, Unsha, scoffed. “Of course it will be. My human would never put on a show that was any less than perfect.”
“Are you saying that mine would?”
“Oh, of course not, Urak. I’m only saying that Kuki had never had a sloppy moment in any of his performances. And Tooru… well, he can be a bit unpredictable at times.”
Urak didn’t respond to that, instead gesturing for Tooru to stand still in the middle of the room.
All the aliens looked at him and talked about how he was going to die soon. Of course they didn’t say it, they would never risk offending Urak like that, but Tooru knew how to read them. They ran their claws across his skin and his hair and touched him like he was a doll and their eyes cut into him, getting under his skin and making him want to scratch them out but there was no way to move or fight back so he just looked up at the giant screen.
It was playing the third round, which had happened about a week ago. Kuki and Ginshi’s round.
It was hard to hear with all the talking in the room, but Tooru could tell that both of his friends had done a good job. Of course, Kuki had forced Ginshi to write a song with him, even though Tooru knew the blonde boy absolutely hated writing music. It was much more similar to Kuki’s usual style than the song he’d written for his performance with Tooru. There was a lot more yelling, which actually suited Ginshi’s style better too.
When Ginshi had gotten shot, the camera had zoomed in on his body, but Tooru had still been able to see just a flash of Kuki’s face.
He’d looked pissed off. Not upset or sad about one of their best friends dying, but angry.
And then the television switched so it was playing Nimura’s round with Takeomi. It was no surprise the older man had won. He’d been the overall winner of last year’s Alien Stage as well, and while Takeomi was skilled, he hadn’t been that skilled. He probably could’ve beaten Tooru. Not Nimura.
Kuki had hated him. Some kind of one-sided rivalry none of them had ever figured out the origin of.
And then the first round of the semi-finals started to play. And Tooru couldn’t look away.
Haise’s voice, smooth and strong, filled the room, pushing away the sound of the aliens talking. He’d written at least part of the song, Tooru could tell. There was a kind of deep, pervasive grief to the lyrics, the melody, that was there in every song Haise wrote.
And if Tooru listened hard enough, he could almost hear anger.
“Shame about that one,” one of the aliens muttered. “He was yours, wasn’t he, Shine?”
“The most disappointing human I’ve ever had to deal with.” Shine shook their head. “I shouldn’t have even tried.”
“He was born outside of the normal Producer programs, right? Why did you bring him to the CCG in the first place?”
“He was talented. I thought he’d be a good competitor. Didn’t account for him having a weak mind.”
“He seems dangerous,” Urak said absent-mindedly as Haise attacked Nimura on screen. “Hope they catch him soon.”
“Hopefully they’ll remember that I told them not to kill him.” Shine took a sip of their drink, not even bothering to watch what was happening onscreen. “He’s dangerous, but he’s certainly still talented. We could use his DNA to make a better copy. One that’s a bit less… unstable.”
A better copy.
Unstable.
They were all just toys to the aliens, just toys that they could use up and throw away and then make a new one, all of them were disposable toys and Haise was more than a toy, he was the best thing about the hell that was Tooru’s life and he wasn’t violent, it had to have been a mistake because Haise hated hurting people but maybe that was a lie and Tooru hadn’t realized he’d balled his hands into fists until he looked down and saw that his entire body was shaking.
He could feel himself drifting away from everything, detaching from his body and his mind and becoming just a spirit. A ghost, like in the old human stories. A ghost reaching out for someone who wasn’t there, who would never be there, but who Tooru could almost see.
“What’s wrong with your toy?”
“Oh, he just gets like that sometimes.”
“Two unstable humans in the same year, huh?”
“I swear, every generation gets more strange.”
“Maybe it’s something in their DNA.”
“We’ll know once we can get a good look at the escaped one, won’t we? I’m curious to see what the inside of his brain looks like.”
Tooru felt his legs take a step, felt his arms reach forward for the unused glass sitting on the table directly under the screen.
And then he couldn’t remember anything.
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“We should run,” Saiko suggested one day as they lounged on the side of a hill.
Kuki rolled his eyes. “You know that they’re listening to us, right?”
“Not right now. We’re outside, right?”
They’d figured out about the microphones in the flowers and in the leaves of the fake trees later.
“Seriously,” Saiko continued. “We could get away.”
“Where would we go?” Ginshi asked. “I mean, don’t get me wrong, I’d love to go somewhere else, but everywhere else kinda sucks.”
“We’d find somewhere.”
“That’s naive,” Kuki said. “We’d die if we tried to get away. Everyone who does dies.”
“But you know that we need to run, right?”
Tooru frowned. “What do you mean? We’re safe here, aren’t we?”
Kuki turned to stare at him. “You’ve seen the videos of Alien Stage. They kill the people who lose.”
No, Tooru hadn’t seen the videos. Or at least not that part. He usually covered his ears and closed his eyes once the singing part was over because he didn’t want to know. He didn’t want to think about how he was going to die. It was kinda an unspoken rule in CCG not to bring it up.
“Yeah, but it’s not like it’s any better outside. It’s really bad. Especially if you don’t live with an alien.”
“We should at least try!” Saiko said again, determined. Tooru never found out what it was about that day that’d made her so certain they had to escape. Or maybe it hadn’t really been anything but just some random thought Saiko had had and latched onto. “We can sneak out at night and they won’t see us and we can get outside the gates, Akira told me about a hole in one of them, and then… well, we can figure it out!”
“We can come back and destroy this place,” Kuki muttered, staring up at the blue sky. It was, as usual, impossible to tell what he was thinking. “Join the human terrorists.”
“Yes! That’s a great idea!”
“People die because of terrorists” Ginshi pointed out, but he still looked interested.
“We shouldn’t,” Tooru whispered, but he was pretty sure the rest of them didn’t hear him.
“We can smuggle a bunch of food to our rooms after dinner tonight. And then we can pack it up and take it with us, in case there’s no food outside. Which there probably won’t be.”
There wasn’t. Tooru knew. He was the only one who’d ever lived away from the aliens, the only one who knew what happened in the slums.
But even though he knew, as Saiko talked about all the things they’d do once they’d get outside and Ginshi nodded along with her, he imagined a future like the kind he’d read about in old books.
The four of them would find a house. They’d make a garden, a real garden with real plants. They’d get a dog. Tooru had never seen a real dog, but he still wanted one. They’d all live together forever and none of them would go away.
Kuki was staring at Tooru with that weird look he got sometimes. “What do you think?” he asked, and both Saiko and Ginshi stopped talking and then they were all staring at Tooru.
Saiko had said they’d go at night. That was the only time they could hope to go.
Haise was locked up at night after he’d attacked one of the aliens. So he wouldn’t be able to go if they ran away after lights-out.
“We shouldn’t,” he said slowly. “It’s… we don’t know if we’d be able to get out. It’s too dangerous.”
“But-”
“Even if we die later ‘cause we stayed, at least… at least we’ll die later. And not right now. But if we try to run, we’ll probably die right now.”
“Tooru-”
“It’s a stupid plan!”
For some reason, Tooru was crying as he got up and ran down the hill, towards the fake stream where Haise was writing in the shade of the biggest tree.
None of them ended up trying to escape. Apparently after Tooru had gone away, Kuki had called the others idiots and said he wouldn’t go either, so then none of them had gone because they couldn’t exactly go without each other, or at least that’d been what Saiko had said. And it’d made sense that Kuki would want to stay. He’d always been so focused on winning Alien Stage, prioritizing that above all else. Unlike most of the rest of them, who kinda just wanted to survive for as long as possible, he’d actually wanted the recognition he’d get from winning. It was a wonder he’d even let them talk about running away for as long as he had.
But for the next eight years, Tooru would wonder if maybe, maybe if he’d said yes, maybe if he’d stayed on that hill with them, maybe they would’ve convinced Kuki to run away. Maybe he could’ve-
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When Tooru opened his eyes, he thought he saw Haise, smiling down at him with the same look of concern and warmth he would give Tooru any time he got hurt. He was reaching out a hand. Tooru reached out his own, trying, fighting through the pain and the exhaustion and the numbness, and he touched nothing.
For a few seconds, all he could do was stare at the space where he’d been so sure Haise had been.
“Tooru?”
Kuki was sitting across the room from him.
And then Tooru remembered.
Haise was gone.
Tooru pushed himself up so he was sitting on the stiff couch instead of laying. He was back in the rehearsal room. The last thing he remembered was…
Haise. The video. The aliens. The glass. Blackness.
“Fuck,” he muttered.
“What?”
“Nothing.”
But it was strange. Usually when everything went blurry for Tooru and he hurt people, the aliens would restrain him. Beat him up first, and he could definitely feel the bruises on his arms and legs from where the aliens must have hit him, but usually his limbs were bound as well as bruised and there’d be a muzzle in his mouth.
He hated the muzzle more than anything else. He hated feeling like he was choking, like he couldn’t breathe, couldn’t talk-
But that time, there was nothing.
He was still drugged, as usual. He could feel it, feel his mind working slower and detaching from the rest of the body. It numbed the pain, but it numbed everything else too.
But he wasn’t restrained.
“What happened?” he asked Kuki.
The purple-haired boy shrugged. “They brought you back here. You were unconscious. I don’t know why.”
“Oh. Ok then.”
Fuck, Tooru’s head hurt. He touched his forehead and found, instead of the open wound he’d usually get when they knocked him unconscious before pumping him full of drugs, a soft bandage.
Well, the aliens probably hadn’t wanted one of the competitors in the next round to be actively bleeding.
They clearly hadn’t been too worried about him attacking Kuki, though, because they’d just thrown him back in the same room.
Tooru hadn’t lost control in a few months. Maybe even a year.
He’d been doing better. He’d been doing so much better and then Haise-
“You should go get changed,” Kuki said suddenly. “We go onstage in forty-five minutes. Did you memorize the song?”
“I…” Tooru wanted to say that it wasn’t time for his final round, it couldn’t possibly be time yet, but Kuki was already wearing the all-white suit the aliens had probably forced him into and Kuki wouldn’t lie about something like that. The competition was too important to him. “Yes.”
“Good.”
Tooru pushed himself off the couch but nearly fell on the first step. Kuki practically jumped across the room to grab his arm.
“Be careful,” the purple-haired boy murmured, staring directly at Tooru. “Are you even going to be able to go onstage?”
“I’ll be fine.”
Of course Tooru would be fine. If there was one thing he could do, it was sing. He knew the words. He knew how he was expected to sing them. He knew he wasn’t going to survive the next hour, and he couldn’t really feel enough to care.
Tooru pulled away from Kuki and staggered towards the changing rooms.
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They didn’t look at each other as they stood backstage.
Apparently the aliens were going for a dramatic, rainy feel with that round. Water fell onto the stage and fake lightning flashed like they were going to be singing in some over-dramatic storm, and if that wasn’t a really bad sign, then Tooru didn’t know what was.
He hated water.
The aliens probably knew that.
Just another thing they were doing to rig the round towards Kuki.
Robots had led the two of them to their spots backstage. Usually the competitor’s Guardians would at least say something to them before they went on.
Maybe that meant Tooru had at least injured Urak before they’d been able to knock him out.
That was a nice thought.
“What an eventful competition we’ve had this year!” the announcer called from over the speakers, and the aliens in the audience cheered. They all knew what they were about to see, and they were all so goddamned excited. “But don’t worry! We’ve increased security, and this round’ll go off without a hitch! And what an exciting round we have in store for you!”
That was the humans’ cue to walk together onto the stage. Tooru tugged at the hem of his black suit, much more form-fitting than he preferred, and kept his head down as they moved together into the spotlight and the rain, taking their spots at their respective mics.
“Please give a warm welcome to our final two competitors in the semi-finals, Tooru and Kuki!”
The audience cheered louder, if that were possible. The music started playing.
Tooru sang first. That was how they’d rehearsed it, after all. Each of them got a verse and a chorus to themselves, and then they sang the final chorus together.
It was a good idea. Gave them both moments in the spotlight and then showed what they could do as a duo. The type of thing that got a lot of attention from the audience, attention that often carried into the next round. Kuki knew how to win Alien Stage. Of course he did, he’d spent his entire life trying.
If Tooru had been able to feel anything besides numb, he would’ve been angry at Kuki.
But there was nothing but the blankness and the music, the song about being in love with someone he shouldn’t be and longing for them to be with him, and he looked out at the cheering crowd and imagined that Haise was out there watching him.
For a few seconds, he also imagined killing all of the aliens. Shooting them all with their own weapons and feeling their blood-
He’d had enough fighting. He’d had enough blood. He’d had enough of everything.
Somewhere out there, Urak was most likely watching. Probably still pissed off at Tooru about what had happened the night before. Just waiting for him to die.
The tiny, ugly part of Tooru he tried to keep shoved down at all times told him that was a good thing. Maybe his death would piss off Urak even more, given how much time and money the alien had put into him.
Tooru’s part of the song finished and Kuki took over. The second verse was the exact same idea as what Tooru had sung except Kuki did it better, because of course he did. He was able to fake more emotions, connecting to each word on a level that would make any alien with a brain cry. Every note was perfect and rehearsed but sounded like it was improvised enough to be interesting. It was the perfect performance and Kuki would win, so there was really no point in Tooru even singing anything else.
No point in anything but waiting and watching.
So he kept his head down when it was time for them to sing together. He only realized after a few seconds that Kuki wasn’t singing either.
He looked up and saw the other man standing in front of him and then he grabbed his face and then Kuki was kissing Tooru.
Instinctively Tooru tried to push him away, some memory he didn’t want to remember gripping him, but Kuki held on and the kiss was gentler than Tooru had expected it to be, gentler than most kisses were. It didn’t feel like Kuki was trying to take anything from him. It was just Kuki’s lips against his and his hands gripping the back of his head and it almost didn’t feel bad. If it had been happening anywhere else and if they’d been any other people, anyone else across all of space and time, in any other universe, it would’ve been nice.
But it wasn’t any other universe.
And then Kuki’s hands were on Tooru’s throat and Tooru panicked and froze but Kuki wasn’t really squeezing or even really gripping him, just touching him almost gently, his right thumb rubbing a strangely comforting circle on the skin of Tooru’s neck, and when Tooru met the other man’s eyes, there was something in them that almost looked like an apology.
As the first shots rang out, almost unnoticeable against the music and the sound of the rain, Tooru closed his eyes.
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The first person to look at Tooru in the CCG was Kuki.
Tooru was still wearing the dirty clothes he’d had in the slums. The aliens hadn’t even had time to make him change into the regular white uniforms of the other kids of the CCG Gardens. He’d met Urak briefly and decided he didn’t like the alien, but they were willing to refer to Tooru as a boy and that was all he could really ask for. No one else had ever given him that.
Maybe it wouldn’t be so bad.
As one of the robot guards pushed him through the hallways, Tooru heard a strange noise, like someone had started to say something and then stopped themself. When he looked up, he saw a boy about his age with dark purple hair staring at him.
“What are you doing in this area?” the robot asked. Tooru jumped before realizing the question was directed at the boy.
“I was running an errand for Unsha. I have their permission to be here.”
“Finish your errand.”
The boy nodded, but he didn’t move. He looked back at Tooru.
But he was a boy and Tooru didn’t trust him, didn’t trust anyone, so he looked away first, lowering his head, and he heard the sound of the boy’s footsteps retreating.
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And neither of them were those kids anymore. They’d both gone through too much, changed too much, to ever be those kids. But as Kuki’s eyes widened, as the first of the bullets went straight through his torso, Tooru could almost see a hint of that little boy who’d been so curious about him that first day.
It was that boy who Tooru saw staring at him more gently than Tooru had ever been looked at before. It was an apology, a goodbye, everything they’d never said at once, and Tooru couldn’t make himself look away. His hand gently stroked against Tooru’s cheek for less than a second.
And then Kuki was falling and he was smiling, why the fuck was he smiling, and he was on the ground and there was blood on Tooru’s shoes, impossible to see through the rainwater soaking his feet, and Tooru could feel again.
He wished he couldn’t.
God, he wished he couldn’t.
He was completely paralyzed, staring down at the body of the boy who’d died for him, the boy who Tooru had destroyed, and he could feel everything.
“And the winner is Tooru!”