It was assault.

I knew he told me it had been consensual, but it really hadn't been.

I don't know why Haruki said that. I was frustrated, he could see that, could sense that, just like he could sense all people around him. I admired that about him. He could come into the studio where me and Mafuyu and Uenoyama already were, and if something was up between the two other boys Haruki would snap it up immediately, while I, even if I'd been the one who'd spent the last few hours with them, hadn't.

"What's wrong?" he would ask.

I would become irritated.

"Leave the poor kids alone!"

But every time, every time, he was right. There was something that they needed to talk about, or discuss, or ventilate.

I would just sit at my drums then, listen to the two younger boys unfold themselves to the long-haired, blonde, slim, tall bassist. I would just listen and admire him, and his heart. So unlike Ugetsu...

I would find myself thinking this thought over and over. From the moment me and Haruki met, it struck me how different he was from my black-haired then-boyfriend. It got to me all over again that time Haruki was mad at me when I had just moved in with him, saying he needed a smoke to calm himself down. Ugetsu would need to beat me up or break something to calm himself down. Or torture me verbally. I refused the term psychological abuse; I had always refused medical terms by people who were not medical professionals. But honestly, verbal torture sounded much worse, and suited him better.

I closed my eyes, let the bow gently caress the strings, creating that soft humming I loved so much about the violin; vibrations from the solid body of my instrument that transferred to my jawbone that was connected to it in a deadly dance. I looked lovingly at the scroll, shaped like a shell. Few people knew it had gotten its shape from the inner ear, where sound waves were transformed into electrical impulses that were then sent through your nervus vestibulocochlearis and further to your brain. Violins and other string instruments had been the same shape for hundreds of years, speaking of how early humans had started to dissect other human bodies to learn its anatomy. Don't think about it, I thought, thinking about it anyway. Don't think about Ugetsu, or Haruki, or human dissection. Focus. Just focus.

I never beat Ugetsu. Not once. I got angry with him. I screamed at him. Pushed him down on his back and towered over him, even. But I never hurt him physically, the way he did to me. I got the feeling that Ugetsu couldn't hold back on the urges that other humans could close a door behind. Urges like throwing yourself out of a steep cliff when standing there, enjoying the view. Or thinking about saying something really hurtful to someone you loved. Our brains conjured up those scenarios and then attached a string of queasiness to them to prevent us from performing those acts. But Ugetsu...

I had gotten him his first gift. A plain, white mug. A matching one for me. I had never done anything like it before, for anyone, and buying them at the department store had filled me with a warm sensation of belonging. I'm buying these mugs for me and my boyfriend. And then I'm going to take it home to him and make us coffee that we can then drink underneath a blanket.

But he hadn't become happy. He had looked at them, and his mind had thought "what if I would break it?" and he actually had.

I had looked at him in shock. He had looked at me in shock. Then, his eyes had filled to the brim with tears.

"I'm sorry", he had whispered. "I'm so sorry."

He had put his hand over his mouth, trembling. I had bent down, touching his forehead with mine.

"It's okay. Hey, it's okay", I had said, smiling, drying his tears but I was not okay. In that moment I was hurt and sad and heartbroken. I just didn't show it.

My bow slipped, creating a horrendous sound. I furrowed my brows in frustration, gritted my teeth, felt my lip piercings against them. Focus, you fool. I tried that part again, feeling the instrument through my skin, caressing the strings with the bow, the bow with my fingers. Haruki would never have...

I had been frustrated at Ugetsu. I had been frustrated at his playing of the violin. When he got home from his concert, he had mocked me. "You probably got hard just by listening." I hated him for how true that was. Whenever I heard him play, I was consumed by a black jealousy that wasn't necessarily directed at him and his skills with the instrument, but rather at the instrument and at anyone else who could ever belong to him. That was part of the reason I couldn't let him go; if I would, he would belong entirely to his violin and, eventually, to someone else. I couldn't handle it. I needed to own him. I had grabbed his wrists and pushed him on his back, taking his two fingers in my mouth, twirled my tongue around them. He had just laughed at me. Haruki would never... I didn't understand why I had thought about Haruki in such a situation.

I had undressed Ugetsu quickly and he had started moaning beneath me. I had forced him on his back, used my palm to press his lower back into the mattress to tilt his pelvis towards me, and pushed myself in. I hadn't prepped him, my leaking tip not enough to prevent Ugetsu from feeling any pain. He had screamed out, but I knew he liked it. He liked it when I caused him pain. In more ways than one.

"You horny fuck", he had panted.

"Shut up", I had growled, grabbing his hair, forcing his head in an uncomfortable position as I fucked him hard from behind to his screams. Lucky thing place is soundproof. Not that we would do anything differently if it hadn't been.

I had come quickly, but instead of feeling that delicious sweet relief I usually did when he had my seed inside him, I had felt frustration.

My bow slipped again, and I threw it against the wall. If my violin hadn't been so fucking expensive, I would've thrown that into the wall, too.

It was assault.

I knew he told me it was consensual, but it really wasn't.

I had forced myself on Haruki without his consent.

"You run away even though you like me."

He had looked horrified, scared, even, and I didn't blame him. I was double his weight, much stronger and I was above him. He asked me to stop. If you want me, why do you resist?

It all came back to his incredible sense of how people around him felt.

He knew I was in love.

And he knew the person I was in love with wasn't him, and he only wanted me if I wanted him.