When night falls, it's just you and me

WARNING: self-harm, suicide

A pair of feet climbed up the steps of the grand western-looking mansion. They were weak and unsteady as if the small person had no strength left in them.

The sun was setting, casting a golden hue over the white-washed walls of the building. The garden was a sight to behold, with manicured lawns and plants in all shades of autumn. It was a house of prestige with its majestic columns and grand windows, reflecting the wealth and power of its inhabitants.

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 over the closet, and continued to the kitchen.

The gleaming marble countertops were spotless and the stainless steel appliances glinted in the sunlight pouring through the sliding glass doors. Every piece of utensils was organized in an assigned spot and the cutlery was arranged perfectly. Everything was in order, but there was one thing missing - the warmth and comfort of a home.

He seated himself at the long dinner table and stared at the lustrous mahogany wood that shimmered in the soft glow of the chandelier above.

Tears pooled in his pale brown eyes and he let them spill, cascading down his cheeks like tiny rivers. For him, it was the same miserable day after day, hearing taunts and ridicule from his classmates in a world that made him feel so abandoned.

He had been on his own ever since the first day of school, having no friends in sight since the bullies targeted him.

The boy thought about the student named Nakashima, his evil smirk and the malicious words that had haunted him throughout the day. He remembered how previously his schoolmates had gathered around him on the swings, mocking him and making fun of him. That one classmate's blue eyes watched it all happen with a satisfied glint, almost as if he enjoyed watching the other boy's distress.

He had prayed for someone to come and save him, but no one had shown up.

The boy wiped the snot from his nose with the back of his hand. His only wish was to fall asleep and simply not wake up, to be free from the pain and the loneliness he was constantly feeling. He wanted to find peace in the arms of unconsciousness, to never be aware of the world and all its cruelty.

"You can always call me, Jiro. If you feel too sad, let me know."

The boy recalled the kind woman who had introduced herself as a doctor. She had a gentle voice, a friendly gaze, and a comfortable smile that soothed him somehow. He used to visit her every week, but she wasn't able to offer him the company and friendship he longed for.

His fingers quivered as he dialed her number and his breath caught in his throat as he heard ringing on the other end, but no one answered him.

Jiro's frantic cries filled the room as he slumped on the table, letting tears and snot stain his face. There was no one to turn to, no one to share his struggles with, no one to help him.

He missed his mother and father who were almost always away, only catching brief glimpses of them in the morning - but even when his lips trembled, neither asked what was wrong. His chest tightened as he thought about how his parents were too busy to come and save him from the bullies, how his father's voice and his mother's smile were only fading memories.

The tears stopped streaming as his eyes slowly closed and he welcomed the darkness that enveloped him like a warm hug, the only thing that seemed to bring him the solace he was desperately seeking.

And then, the teenager surrendered completely to his fate, promising himself that he would never wake up again.

(The next day)

Jiro listened as adults argued in a bright and white room, causing the walls to echo with their tense tones. It was as if an invisible force had weighed down his limbs, completely crippling him.

He observed people discussing his health and the appropriate course of action for his treatment - and then he heard his parents' strained voices. They sounded completely emotionless, without any trace of warmth or concern.

The kind female doctor he had seen regularly suggested they not proceed with their plan.

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

"His uncle belongs to his family and has generously taken him in. A change in scenery could definitely be beneficial for him," his father replied.

The small patient was lying on the bed, buried under the blanket, with his head resting on the pillow. He kept his eyes closed and looked like he was dreaming, but his thoughts wandered aimlessly as he tried to pay attention to the conversation.

"But in another country and 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. The boy felt overwhelmed, shaking under the duvet as he tried to figure out what was going on.

He was scared and confused about why he had woken up the second time after swallowing all the pills he found in the cabinet. The darkness that engulfed him had comforted him, finally calming all his desperate thoughts - for a while. His own body betrayed him, and he was unable to understand why it had kept him alive despite his determination to die. He was still forced to live in a world he didn't want to be a part of.

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

"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 a pleasure to see you again, Jiro," a tall man with the same pale brown eyes said to him, smiling widely at the teenager emerging from the private plane. His hair was black, shaved short at the back, and he had thick stubble on his square-shaped jawline. He wore a crisp suit and had a charming demeanor, but his presence was overpowering as it was accompanied by the smell of pungent cologne and smoked cigarettes.

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

"No school?" Jiro asked nervously, his voice trembling as he had feared how it was going to be in his new home, worried that he wouldn't fit in there either.

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

"And when night falls, it's just you and me again..." Toshiro Takuya repeated, his lips turning to a dark grin as he stared at the young boy.