When night falls, it's just you and me

WARNING: self-harm, suicide

Two small feet climbed up the grand, western-looking mansion's stairs. They were weak and a bit unsteady, almost as if they didn't have any strength left in them.

The setting sun cast golden light on the building's white walls. The garden around them was a sight to behold with manicured lawns and trimmed plants, showing off all shades of autumn. There was no doubt it was a prestigious house, with its elegant columns and grand windows, emphasizing its residents' wealth and power.

The boy opened the door with a light push and hurried inside the spacious entrance, careful not to make too much noise, even though he knew there was no one home. He placed his shoes neatly in the entryway, draped his jacket on the closet, and continued to the wide, empty hallway.

He made his way to the kitchen. A ray of sunlight poured through the sliding glass doors, shining on the gleaming countertops and stainless steel appliances. Every piece of utensil was organized in an assigned spot and every surface was scrubbed sparklingly clean. On the kitchen island, a vase of fresh flowers added a touch of color to the otherwise marble-white setting. While all seemed to be in perfect order, one thing was missing - the sounds of a family.

The boy seated himself at the long dinner table. For a moment, he only stared ahead and listened as the clock ticked. It had been a long day and he was exhausted.

Tears pooled in his pale brown eyes and he let them spill. They streamed down his cheeks like tiny rivers, but he didn't wipe them away. Day after day, he was bombarded with taunts and ridicule from his classmates. Day after day, he felt more abandoned.

No friends, only bullies. No one to talk to, no one to listen to him.

He thought about Nakashima, a classmate of his, who had haunted him throughout the day with his smirk and malicious words. Why Nakashima had taken such an interest in him, he didn't know, but he felt like he was being watched every time they crossed paths. Those blue eyes seemed to pierce right through him, mocking him with every glance.

The other day, while he was sitting on the swings, the bullies came again. He had prayed for someone to help him, but no one had shown up.

The boy wiped the snot off his nose. Right then, his only wish was to fall asleep and never wake up again, so he would be free of his pain and loneliness.

"You can always reach out to me, Jiro. If you are feeling down, don't hesitate to call me."

Jiro remembered the kind woman who introduced herself as a doctor. She had a gentle voice, a friendly smile, and a comfortable presence that somehow soothed him. He went to see her every week, but no matter how welcoming she was, she couldn't offer him the friendship he longed for.

His fingers trembled as he dialed her number on his phone. His breath caught in his throat as he heard a ringing on the other end, but no answer came.

The phone slipped from his hand and crashed on the floor, shattering the silence with its clatter. Then, his frantic cries filled the empty space as he slumped against the table.

He was truly alone. He missed his mother and father who were always gone - but every time they met, even when his lips quivered, neither asked what was wrong. His chest ached as he thought about how his father's voice and his mother's smile were only fading memories now.

Slowly, Jiro's eyes closed and his tears dried up. He welcomed the darkness that enveloped him like a warm hug, the only thing that seemed to bring comfort to his soul - and then, he promised that he would never wake up again.

(The next day)

Jiro awoke to people talking around him, followed by his parents' strained voices. They sounded completely emotionless, without any trace of warmth.

His body felt heavy, as if an invisible force weighed down his limbs, completely crippling him. He peeked behind his eyelashes and saw three adults gathered in a white, sterile room - surely inside a hospital. His mind raced, recalling bits and pieces, but everything was a blur.

The kind female doctor, the one he had seen before, raised her voice again.

"His place should be at home with his family. We need to make sure he gets the right kind of care and support."

"His uncle is part of the family, and has generously taken him in. A change in scenery could definitely be beneficial for him," his father replied.

Jiro laid there motionless, buried under the blanket, resting his head on the pillow. He kept his eyes closed and looked like he was sleeping, but his thoughts wandered aimlessly as he tried to pay attention to the conversation.

"But in another country and in a foreign language - "

"He is young, he will learn fast," his mother protested.

Jiro could barely register what they were saying when the words washed over him like a distant tide. He was confused about how he had woken up after swallowing all the pills in the cabinet. The darkness that had engulfed him comforted him, finally calming all his desperate thoughts - at least for a moment. His own body betrayed him, and he couldn't understand why it had kept him alive when he had been so determined to die. He was still forced to live in this world he didn't want to be a part of.

"Maybe we should continue this conversation in my private office. I can schedule more appointments with him, so that we can better monitor him in the future," the female doctor suggested.

"No, he is moving to the United States. The decision is final," the father concluded, bringing the conversation to an end.

(A couple of days later)

"It's good to see you again, Jiro," a tall man with the same pale brown eyes said and smiled widely at the teenager emerging from the private plane. His hair was black, shaved short at the back and trimmed neatly on the sides, giving him a well-groomed appearance.

Jiro forced a shy smile, trying to muster some enthusiasm, even though his heart wasn't in it.

"Welcome to America," his uncle continued, gesturing toward the cityscape in the distance.

He wore a crisp suit and had an appealing look with polished shoes and diamond rings, but his presence was also accompanied by the scent of cologne and the smell of cigarettes. It had been quite a few years since Jiro last saw him, but he still seemed to carry himself with the same confident air.

"From now on, it's just you and me," the man said as he lowered himself to meet his nephew's gaze.

"No school?" Jiro asked with a gulp, sounding a bit shaky as he feared how it would be in his new home - what if he didn't fit in there either? What if there were more bullies? What if his uncle didn't care either?

"No school for you. You have a teacher who comes to see you every morning," his uncle chuckled and ruffled his nephew's hair.

"And when night falls, it's just you and me again," Toshiro Takuya repeated, a dark smile spreading across his lips as he stared at the young boy before him.