All Other Things Being Equal

To the quote of, "Love is giving someone the power to destroy you and trusting them not to use it."

A/N: The other side of "What Is and What Should Never Be." Also deals with suicide, but from a different angle.

Three objects, two choices.

Nao looks at them, spread out across the comforter, as though they are all equal. And tonight, they really are, or close enough that she needs to decide because to lay down, and try to sleep tonight, only to wake up to the same reality—the Liar Game, the loss of her father, her outside life spiraling out of control, and billions of yen worth of debt—can't happen.

Sleeping pills prescribed to her father before he left wait in one hand. Washed down all at once with a bottle of liquor—also her father's—she will wake up at her father's side, away from everything, away from the aching emptiness that presses against her breastbone. She can explain everything to him. She can be free of pain, pure, and honest again, and all she has to give up is her ability to awaken tomorrow.

Then, she has her phone and, through that, Akiyama. He'll come if she calls, that ache beneath her breastbone tells her. The situation won't go away—Nao's not foolish enough to believe in that miracle—but if he comes, hope tags along. He won't let her fall, not without a fight. She might not get to sleep, but she will see the sun rise. She will find out whether anything exists beyond this moment.

But then, he'll know. He'll know how fake the smile has been over the past few weeks, how everything bites at and consumes her. He'll hurt too. He's too empathetic not to feel that pain. If she dies, Akiyama won't have to know how she went. He won't even find out until the next round meets up and she's mysteriously not there anymore, and by then the reason for her death will be buried along with her. Maybe she'll leave a note, telling them to call it an accident to anyone who asks. Maybe her heart just burst. He shouldn't care; it's not like she's of any use to him. He'll get over it.

No. He'll find out. He'll suspect because it's too parallel to his mother's death. Even if it were true that she died of another cause—a perfectly natural one—he would believe in the suicide. The possibility would twist and turn in his heart, and Nao thinks it would destroy him, one more weight to add to her pile of sins. Her life—if her own life means nothing, then what about Akiyama's life?

When she imagines his face when he finds out, an expression that reflects perfectly her inner state right now, she makes up her mind.

She chooses the phone, and with trembling fingers, reaches out. She prays, though whether for him to answer or not, she doesn't know.

"Yo," Akiyama says.

"Please come over." Nao doesn't—she can't—explain any more, until she has something to hold onto. If he refuses, the other option is still open to her, but she needs to try this first.

"I'm on my way."

Twenty-minutes later, she hears a knock at her door, and Akiyama—dressed in his normal uniform of old khakis and a long-sleeved shirt—stands at the threshold when she opens it.

"Akiyama-san..." Nao stands aside, and watches as he takes a good long look at her. Disheveled hair that she hasn't washed in a week, her old pajamas, and tear tracks down her blotchy face—she wonders if he's disgusted. Then he looks around at the pile of boxes everywhere—old possessions of her father's that haven't been sorted or hidden away yet.

He stiffens. She hears the intake of his next breath. Before Nao can move, before she can explain anything, Akiyama strides across the room, retrieves both the bottle of liquor and the pills and pours them into the sink. Nao closes the door before the cold overwhelms the place. It's just him and her shut inside this apartment, and she can't pretend anything is fine.

"Come here."

Nao walks over and rests his head against his chest. His hands might shake, but they press her close to him. The boundaries that exist out of necessity fall for tonight at least. She can hear his breath, his heartbeat, the signals that he's alive and here. He smells like cigarette smoke, laundry soap, and beneath that a warm scent that Nao is sure is his alone. He radiates heat. His nearness piles around her, somehow unlocking the pain and easing it at the same time. She can't help it. Like some silly child, she cries. The tears fall fast and ugly down her face as he strokes her hair.

Nao doesn't know how long she's been crying by the time she lifts her head away from his shirt, now covered in wet spots her the tears. He doesn't let go.

Akiyama says only one word, "Why?"

Nao doesn't know where to start. "It's too much. Everything's starting to pile up, and I know I should just smile and deal with it, but right now, I don't have the energy...my father, and the game, and the money, and school..."

Akiyama guides her to her bed, and sits her down before he takes his place next to her. All without letting go of her hand. "One thing at a time."

"My father passed away, a few weeks ago."

"I'm sorry." Akiyama tightens his hold on her.

"I know he was in pain and all, but I wasn't ready. I wish...I wish the game could have ended first. I wish that I could have been the daughter he wanted me to be. I wish I hadn't had to hide so much from him. And now, he's gone. Just...gone. And I don't know where to go from here."

"What else?"

"The Liar Game. It's just so huge...the invitation came at the wrong time...and the debt...and I'm trying not to be useless, I promise. But...it's so high, right now, I can't see any way out of it."

"We're going to get out, I promise that. We're not going to have to pay 10 billion yen." He strokes her hair. "And you're not useless. Not at all. Anything else?"

"School. My grades are slipping, with all that's going on...and if I don't get things together, I'll flunk out. It so small but in addition to everything else. Plus, with everything that's going on, it's hard to really make friends there. I'd always have to hide."

"I can tutor you. I can help you."

His words bother her. "Akiyama-san," Nao knows the truth as well as he does, "you can't solve all my problems, if I'm too weak to solve them myself."

"I can't solve all your problems," Akiyama says, "but I can tell you this: you aren't alone. Don't think for a second that you are. Or that you're too weak. You're going to survive."

"I am." Nao agrees. "I don't want to die." Everything still piles up, a mountain before her, but it seems bearable.

"Nao, suicide is-" Akiyama chokes, "-it's not a solution. Right now, no matter how much you hurt, it won't heal your pain. It won't fix anything. It won't improve your grades, it will hurt our situation with the game, and it won't let you meet your father again. It will only bring more pain to the people left behind."

Nao hears what he doesn't say. "I won't do it. I won't hurt you." She won't, even if Akiyama has no reason to trust her after this. How close was she to leaving him behind? If the neighbors didn't find her, he'd be the one to have found her, or the tournament officials, and they wouldn't hold anything back.

His arm around her tightens. Nao takes in his scent again, the sound of his low voice in her ear. "You don't know your own power."

"I know I can be strong," Nao whispers, "and I have people I can rely on. I know I'm not weak."

"No, you don't know your own power."

This isn't about her strength anymore, Nao realizes, but something deeper. She faces up, and looks into his darkened eyes. When the tears fall down her face, they belong to two people.

"Your face, Akiyama-san." Nao struggles to find the words.

"Huh?" Akiyama moves to wipe his eyes and shakes his head when he doesn't see any tears.

"No, not now. Before. I saw your face in my mind. That's why I called."

Akiyama tilts her chin up, and leans in. His thumb brushes against her lip, and they both shudder. Nao clings to Akiyama's shoulders as much to stable him as herself. "You can absolutely destroy me."

What can she say to that confession but, "I couldn't." Nao leans into his shoulder. His pulse is so strong, his breath so deep it could sustain them both.

"Look at me."

She does. He looks tired—more so than usual—stripped bare, raw, just how she feels. Akiyama brushes his lips against hers, and starts a chain reaction that runs all the way down to her toes. Her tears' salt passes between their lips.

Nao pulls away and wipes her eyes, and then reaches up to wipe a few of the tears that Akiyama's seemed to caught from her. "Akiyama-san, will you stay with me? Just until dawn would be okay?"

"I'll stay."