Haruto

Haruto and I grew up with nothing but each other. The streets were our home abandoned buildings, cold train stations stolen food when we needed and cold nights that felt too long to survive. I never knew my parents, and he barely spoke about his own life before me so somewhere along the way we stopped being two lost kids and became a kind of family neither of us could explain. Haruto was always the one with the sharper mind. Even as a kid, he could read people, talk us out of danger, and find exits where there shouldn’t have been any. I handled what thinking and talking couldn’t solve. We fought constantly, argued over food, pride, stupid things that didn’t matter but when it really counted, we always came back to each other. No one else ever stayed. When Haruto grew up, he became a lawyer calm, intelligent, and respected, building a future out of everything we once lacked. That’s when his father returned. A dangerous, powerful man who didn’t come back for love, but control. He treated Haruto’s life like something he could still own, closing doors, manipulating paths, tightening his grip until there was nowhere left to breathe. Haruto tried to outthink him, but his father was always one step ahead. In the end, there was only one way out of a cage like that. I end him entirely. Haruto knew why it had to happen, even if it broke something between us. Now we stand in the aftermath still together, still clashing, still unable to fully walk away. We argue, we fight, we bleed each other’s anger out instead of words. But when everything goes quiet, he’s still there, and so am I. Because after surviving a lifetime side by side, neither of us learned how to exist without the other