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Kaiser opens his eyes.
Today is his free day. Today, he can stay home and relax and read his books. He breathes in. The morning has just begun, it's just begun…
“Your hair looks so silly, Michael.”He says. He, not the real Yoichi, because the real Yoichi would never call Kaiser by his first name, or lay in bed with him.
Kaiser rubs his eyes and face. No matter how much he sleeps, he will be tired, because he is simply never alone.
The fake Yoichi is so sweet to him. He is here by his side, all the time. He makes his pathetic fantasies come true, in a way.
Kaiser can't deny that he enjoys the attention he gets from fake Yoichi, but it also reminds him of just how fucking low he has sunk. And that shame is much more stronger.
He has to get over it. Get over Yoichi, and the way he injured his pride, and the joy he gave him that he's been chasing after.
“Let me brush it for you, Michael.”
The real Yoichi would rather cut off his own hands with some rusty gross ass knife.
“You can't. You don't exist.” With a sigh, Kaiser leaves the bed. He goes take a piss. He looks at himself in the mirror, at his stupidly messy bedhair. Yoichi wouldn't brush it, the mere thought of touching it would make him disgusted to the point of nausea.
But fake Yoichi stands next to Kaiser, even in the mirror's reflection.
“Hey, asshole. Stop this shit.” He looks directly into his own eyes, frowning. “How the hell are you this weak? How can you allow him… to infiltrate your brain…”
Fake Yoichi is still here, smiling gently, soothingly. It's an expression the real Yoichi has never directed at him, but definitely has directed at many. It's an expression Kaiser isn't capable of.
“Make him go away.” He orders himself, or perhaps, begs. “Make him go the fuck away.”
…
He opens the faucet, splashes his face with cold water.
“Michael.”
…
“Want to shower together?”
You can't shower. You aren't real.
Fake Yoichi grabs the hem of his shirt, lifting it just a little. “Want to see me naked?”
“Stop that.” Kaiser's cheeks turn pink. Great, he's blushing over his own imagination. Kaiser knows he is a piece of shit, but one thing he doesn't want to be, is a pervert. To be lusting over someone's body, it humiliates him.
Fake Yoichi laughs. But it is not a mocking, cruel laugh. He sounds like a mischievous child that got away with a silly prank. “It'll be fine, Michael. You can touch me. All you want.”
Kaiser closes his eyes.
But the image of a wet Yoichi with nothing covering his skin is now stuck in his head. Kaiser repeatedly hits his forehead against a wall. It does not help. Full of self-hatred, he accepts his fate of going into the shower and having freezing cold water wash over his body to force his arousal away.
“Michael, stop ignoring me…” Fake Yoichi says with a pout, as soon as Kaiser steps out of the shower. “You are so mean! Treat me better!”
Kaiser turns his gaze away from the hallucination ruining his life. Would Yoichi complain in such a cute way, if the two of them were intimate and Kaiser was failing to provide enough attention? Or would he simply call him an asshole?
Both options feel likely.
Kaiser rolls his eyes. He can’t ‘treat him better’, partially because fake Yoichi can't be ‘treated’ in any way. But mainly, because Kaiser is such garbage that he wouldn't know how to.
Even if he was given a chance by the real one, he would ruin it instantly.
Fake Yoichi is quiet as Kaiser dries himself, but he will not go away. He just watches, with those big round innocent eyes.
Kaiser, every day, grows a little more afraid. Not of fake Yoichi exactly, but of becoming comfortable with this fuckass nonsense. Because… isn't he the perfect companion? He listens to Kaiser talk. He would comfort him and tell him all the things Kaiser would like to hear.
Kaiser wonders, nervously, if he could get addicted to that ‘love.’ That nonexistent ‘love’, because no matter how aware he is that this is but a sad delusion, he hears and sees fake Yoichi too clearly.
Kaiser punches himself, hard enough that his mouth becomes bloody. No. He is not gonna let himself think that stupidly. He won't settle for something that literally doesn't exist. He'll force this illusion out of his mind, he won't spiral, he…
“You shouldn't hurt yourself, Michael.” Fake Yoichi stands right in front of him. Too close. Those big eyes now full of concern. “I don't want to see you in pain.”
Kaiser's lips part slightly. You are the reason…
But the worry in fake Yoichi's expression and voice and his hand moves up, towards Kaiser's face.
A hand that is not really there now rests against his cheek. Kaiser can't feel it, but he can see it. So real and unreal at the same time that his brain might explode trying to make sense out of this moment.
“For me… would you stop hurting yourself?”
This affectionate Yoichi. This warm Yoichi. This Yoichi that exists for absolutely no one and nothing but him.
It is so selfish of Kaiser to have created him.
Kaiser's arms move on their own. With this sight… he can't help the desire to embrace him. To be the one to give some semblance of love.
And as soon as he does, fake Yoichi is gone. Of course. There is nothing to hold. He has never hugged anyone, so how the fuck could his mind possibly imagine it? His lips form a mocking smirk, mocking himself.
“Hah…” He can't laugh properly. Looking down at his own arms, at the nothing between them and his torso.
This Yoichi is no perfect companion, or any possible source of comfort, it is an entity that appears solely to torture him. To give him a taste of what he craves, only to leave as soon as Kaiser is about to take the bait.
As punishment for his stupidity, Kaiser gives his face another punch. And another, and another, and another, and another. He is a naked man alone in a bathroom giving himself a beating. This is almost comparable to the level of humiliation and pain his father made him experience every day.
Blood splashes onto the floor, onto the walls, onto his chest.
Is fake Yoichi still watching, from some corner outside of Kaiser's vision, amused by the insanely pathetic display? No, of course not, you imbecile. He doesn't exist outside of your imagination.
Punches aren't doing enough. He has taken too many in his life. Walking to the mirror, looking at his reflection with hatred and pity briefly, he slams his forehead onto it.
Shattered glass falls.
“You can't tell me what to do, Yoichi. Look, I hurt myself more.”
No reply.
Maybe fake Yoichi is scared of his outburst.
He can't be scared. He can't feel anything, you brain-dead clown.
But the real Yoichi… what would he think? Would he… feel bad for him? Would he run off and avoid Kaiser like the deadliest plague from then on, after finding out just how miserable and unstable he is? Lose all possible respect he ever had for him?
Wouldn't that be fitting? After all, his father, too, was abandoned by the person he felt so deeply for. Like worthless father, like worthless son.
“Yoichi…” He murmurs.
The only sound he hears is that of his own blood dripping.
Kaiser falls to his knees. Glass stabs them. His entire face is sullen and pulsating from all the hits, but that feeling is beyond familiar. He clicks his tongue. Even his own brain despises him profoundly, turning into a little personal hell. It's comedic.
Maybe if he apologizes, fake Yoichi will return.
That's fucking stupid.
Kaiser doesn't know how long he spends still in the same spot, staring at the broken mirror pieces and despising himself. Could have been a minute, could have been an hour. No difference.
“Michael.”
Kaiser flinches. “Are you toying with me…”
“Why would I do that?” Fake Yoichi is now sitting by his side, looking as calm and happy as ever. “I love you, Michael.”
He doesn't… he can't…
But it is stupidly enticing to believe him.
“I love you.” He repeats. “Isn't that what you have always wanted to hear?”
Kaiser blinks. “You really are toying with me.”
“I love you!” Fake Yoichi says a third time. With the same joyful smile, he adds: “How many times will you make me say it, loser?”
“I am not… making you…” But he is. Fake Yoichi does not have a free will.
“Michael, it's time for breakfast! Can you make me something sweet? Can you make me a cup of tea?”
Kaiser groans as he stands up. The pain of tiny sharp glass penetrating his skin is nothing, but fake Yoichi's words are giving him a headache. He takes a few steps, as if leaving this room would do anything.
Fake Yoichi ‘grabs’ his arm, walking with him. “It's your free day, isn't it? Take me on a date. Let's go sightseeing. In exchange, I'll show you around my hometown someday! Ah, wait… you already went to Japan on your own, thinking of the real me the whole time. Creepy. He'd be grossed out. You are almost like a stalker, Michael!”
Is it really… that weird?
“He wouldn't want to be your opponent anymore. He'd be too freaked out. You even jerked off in the shower… it's sooo disgusting.”
“I…” His defense dies off before it leaves his lips.
“And when you watch his matches and become jealous of other players… it's so childish.” Yoichi laughs lightheartedly, as if he had told a dumb joke. Moving even closer, ‘leaning’ his head onto Kaiser's shoulder.
The real Yoichi would kill himself if he had to go on a date with Kaiser. He is creepy, he is unable to treat anyone with kindness, he is a pervert, he is desperate, he is cruel, he is latching onto a guy whose only relation to him is having temporarily played in the same team.
Latching onto Yoichi as if Yoichi could be his salvation.
And he believes it. He believes Yoichi can give him purpose and fulfill his sad, pitiful wishes. What he doesn't believe is that he would be willing to. So he fixates on him quietly, flying to his country so he can learn about his culture, and pays ridiculous amounts of attention to every match he is, burning inside when he is made to witness Yoichi smiling at another man with genuineity and excitement.
Yoichi shines bright and attracts others like flies to a light. Kaiser is far from being the only fly.
Fake Yoichi stands in front of him, in tiptoes. He closes his eyes, and puckers his lips.
“I'm not falling for this again…”
But fake Yoichi doesn't move. He waits.
“I already hate myself enough.”
Fake Yoichi continues to wait.
Kaiser is not strong. He used to believe he was, but ever since this illusion, this torture he's created for himself showed up, he realized he is painfully not. No self-control in the slightest. “You are trying to hurt me.”
He's about to kiss the air, isn't he?
Or so he tries, but as soon as he is about to give in, fake Yoichi steps back, giggling cutely like he's been doing this the whole time. “Just kidding! Even a hallucination wouldn't want that.”
Right… what did he expect?
And yet, he feels so defeated. He can't win even against his own brain.
“Soon you'll be fucking the air too, won't you?”
“I won't.” Kaiser closes his fists. But if fake Yoichi is saying it, that's because Kaiser is considering it. He gulps. He doesn't want to sink any lower, he is afraid of losing the little dignity he has left.
“Don't worry, I'll open my legs for you.” Fake Yoichi smiles like he said something sweet, and not completely vulgar.
It's like a stab to his already very hurt pride.
Fucking hell, he wants to cry.