I said that I would write a JDrama fic. I don't think that this story actually fits this category, but whatever. This will be what this will be. I put it here because it's the most fitting, though I know for a fact that this is not a TV show, but a drama. But fanfiction doesn't have a drama section ;A; I want to cry.
But I did say that I would update, right? No more KHR for the time being. Well, save for the projects that I had started wayyyy earlier back. I'll post them when I have the time.
This is my first time writing a JDrama, The Quiz Show 2 and Honma x Satoru fic. Don't sue because I didn't get their personalities right. == ;A; I suck, okay?
Oh yeah, guys, there is a serious spoiler here in this fic to the end of the drama. So if you don't want spoilers, don't readddd~ [though I want you to read itttt]
Title: All that he had left
Series: The Quiz Show 2
Character(s): Honma Toshio and Kamiyama Satoru/MC Kamiyama
Pairing: implied Honma x Satoru/MC Kamiyama
Word count: give or take about 1102, though fanfiction says 1105.
Rating: PG-13
Genre: There really isn't one for this fanfic, it's more of a memory. But I guess it could be considered an angst/hurt/friendship? You be the boss of it.
Summary: Honma reminisces on the past and makes conclusions of his dear creation, Kamiyama and his best friend, Satoru. What he held close to, what he had created and all that Kamiyama had left. He concludes that the only thing that Kamiyama had left was sanity. Falling into the abyss of insanity may prove to be a horrifying experience. Yet Kamiyama holds his sanity so close, so close.
Warning: A bit of...awkwardness at times, spoilers for the end of the drama, lots of thinking done by Honma.
Disclaimers: The Quiz Show 2, Honma Toshio and Kamiyama Satoru--they don't belong to me. If they did, I would have made it Honma x Satoru by now.
Enjoy~
Perhaps it had been his self-orientated mind that caused the accident in the first place. Really, he sometimes wished that he wouldn't listen to Satoru so much sometimes. Equally, he wished that he would have been able to tell between the jokes and the truth in which he tells most of the time.
He had said that he hated the other man because the other had killed his loved one. But really, knowing Satoru, who was the one that really killed her? He remembered it being Satoru. Once reminiscing upon it, then the flashbacks would come to haunt him.
Switching memories with his best friend.
What was he thinking?
Clearly, he wasn't thinking at all.
Watching the other perform as MC Kamiyama really ignited a fire within him. He himself had known for a fact that he was the one that actually brought Satoru together, kept him sane (though he knew for a fact that the other was struggling to keep his own sanity. Those horrible memory migraines were driving him insane to a horrifying state.) and created him in order for him to appear as the way he was—and still is (though the fact of him being the Satoru Honma had remembered was a bit questionable, even for Honma.) to the peak of his own life.
He had known, though. Kamiyama was falling apart. He was drowning in the guilt that Honma had drilled into him. The guilt in which that had brought him and Honma together for the longest time.
He could feel that he hated himself every inch of his life as seconds passed by. Never ever, had he felt something so strong that he could possibly hate himself for it.
Perhaps it was himself that he could not forgive—forcing himself to forget and protecting himself from the guilt he had to shoulder upon his own back. He even made a recording of it.
It was useless, though.
Kamiyama would find out soon enough. That was perhaps his own wanting desires of why he had left that tape there—or made it in the first place. He wanted Kamiyama to known the truth. Or maybe he was too confused himself at the time that he wasn't even thinking properly.
Niita Misaki.
That girl's name burned deeply into his mind, engraved into his very soul. His sole purpose in life…probably the only purpose in life was to give his all in protecting her. Upon protecting her, he had met Satoru.
Or maybe his true intentions were the utmost different than he had ever imagined it to be.
Maybe he had fallen for someone else.
Honma scratched his head in confusion. Was the hell was he thinking about? All this thinking had caused him a huge migraine. The show was yet to come on, but he had longed to go see the MC he had belittled from the start. Washed him in guilt and left him to die.
But that man…or boy, rather, did not die.
He was in the perfect condition. So perfect that he was starting to turn in the opposite direction. He was headed towards the imperfect direction.
The last time he had seen the man, he was sprawled on the floor, clutching his head in pain. The tortured face and the suffering that had shown upon his features were nothing but evident. There were no traces of happiness, joy or brightly displaced content. Not one of the faces he puts out for the audience was there.
Honma had entered the room, the door banged open. As soon as the metal door and the wall met—the large bang that had been made caused the suffering man to flinch. Cowered in fear, he looked up to the man that 'owned' him. Like a lost puppy, (or a slave, even) Kamiyama looked up at his 'master' for the very first time and shrank back in the face of fear.
Fear that he may be unwanted. Left there to die.
Of all the feelings he could have felt for the poor cowering man, he chose wrath.
Honma tugged the other by the shirt and pulled him to eye level. The closeness in which had bonded Kamiyama and Honma together, perhaps, was nothing but insanity.
The insanity was all that he had left, Honma concluded. That was all that this poor Kamiyama had left. Other than Honma, Kamiyama had no one else. Honma was the only person Kamiyama had daringly close to. Just that one strand of sanity. One. Only one.
And Honma would do just about anything to break that. Rub against it, cut it, saw at it.
Just that one strand of sanity was all that Kamiyama had left.
Again, the man was held close to him, brutally by the shirt and yanked to eye level.
This again.
This time, he could feel and perhaps even smell the fear that Kamiyama had for him. He short ragged breath, he could feel them pouring on his face. And him? His slow, even breath had an opposite effect.
It was the insanity that kept the sanity intact.
And finally, he spoke.
"Do you remember anything?"
Slowly, Kamiyama shook his head, the fear grew fonder.
"…No"
He decided that, perhaps, the emotions in which Kamiyama had held in were courageous.
No.
Not enough.
In followed by screams.
Brutally yelled at.
Really. Sometimes he had wondered why he even bothered with the cowering man who sits in his white room all day long.
One answer flew back to him.
He's Satoru.
That was the only answer that kept him wanting to know more. The only answer in which that kept him from giving up. That was the only thing that kept him going all this time.
Satoru killed Misaki.
The thought of that drove him crazy. The insanity in those words was unbelievable and it'll be silly to believe in them. But he had. He had believed in the lies that he himself had fabricated out of desperation.
…of course, that was a long time ago. When the show goes on today, he shall once more capture the power of MC Kamiyama, not Kamiyama Satoru, but MC Kamiyama. The being in which he had created out of his own favour. The creation that changed everything.
He would continue to 'love' his creation. Love out of hate. The love that would saw away at that single strand of sanity in which Kamiyama held on to so dearly. The desperation that was seen on Kamiyama's face.
The only thing that kept him alive.
Because Honma knew that…
…sanity was all Kamiyama had left.
I'm DONEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEee. YES YES YES.
Sweet afternoon, everyone~