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If you asked Taki when the last time he cried was, he couldn't tell you. He may be an expressive guy, always wearing his heart on his sleeve, but he doesn't cry often.
Now if you asked Taki when was the time he cried the hardest, he could pinpoint the exact memory and location. To this day it remained fresh on his mind like the first fruit offerings of the season.
Like most things, it started with Kei.
Taki had come home late from dance practice one day. He had stayed behind after everyone left for the night, wanting to get more practice in before their Korean album debut. The choreo was excruciating but Taki was so close to finally achieving his dream of debuting in Korea. This meant the world to him. So as exhausted as he was, he couldn't help but pour all of his time and energy into perfecting the dance.
It was well past midnight when Taki got home. He was tired and hungry, slightly irritable because he didn't have time to eat an actual meal since he had woken up. Taki had been operating solely on adrenaline and an energy bar for the day. All he wanted to do was raid their fridge for any substance that would subdue his growing stomach pangs before passing out in his bed.
Just as he was about to enter the kitchen, Kei had approached him.
"Do you know what time it is?" Kei asked, arms crossed across his chest. The lights were off aside from the emergency wall plug-in light, so Taki couldn't really make out Kei's expression.
"No. Why does it matter?" Taki huffed in annoyance. He was so tired and hungry, he just wanted the conversation to end immediately.
"It matters because it's late," Kei simply stated.
But in Taki's tired state, it felt like Kei had just insinuated that he couldn't take care of himself, that he shouldn't be left by himself.
And that irked Taki.
Before he could stop himself, Taki looked Kei dead in the eye and bluntly said, "Why are you nagging at me, you're not my parent."
That stunned Kei. He wore an unreadable expression, unsure what to say. Moments passed before Kei finally relented with a sigh.
"Okay. Good night, Taki." Kei glanced at Taki one more time before turning and disappearing into the hallway, leaving the younger by himself.
The conversation made Taki lose his appetite.
Appetite having soured, Taki left the kitchen and slipped into his room, closing the door behind him. All he wanted to do now was slip into bed and sleep his worries away.
So that's exactly what Taki did. He stripped of his outside clothes and changed into his comfiest pair of sweats. Anything to bring him comfort, really. He ignored the hunger pangs as he climbed into bed and covered his entire body with his blanket, wanting to block out the world for the night.
Taki doesn't remember falling asleep. But he does remember waking up.
He doesn't know how many hours had passed in his slumber, but he felt the urgent need to use the bathroom. He would've typically ignored his body and go back to sleep, but the bathroom urges hurt the longer he tried to ignore them.
So Taki relented. He swung his legs off the bed and began to make his way to the door.
He gently pushed the door open and was about to exit the room when something on the floor caught his eyes. He paused in his tracks.
It was a plate of cut-up persimmons, wrapped in plastic.
Taki stared at the persimmons. Each piece was unevenly cut, some pieces having remainders of skin here and there. They looked like weird little orange blobs if he was being honest.
When he crouched down to take closer look, he could see that some pieces had deeper incisions than others, the telltale signs of someone not being able to control their strength when cutting with a knife.
Taki didn't need to guess who left the plate for him.
He remembers sitting on the floor as he grabbed the plate, gently unwrapping the plastic wrap after what felt like hours (but in reality was only seconds). His hand trembled as he took a piece and brought it to his mouth.
The sweetness of the persimmon immediately enveloped his entire mouth as he took his first bite. They were perfectly ripe, juicy and overflowing with sweet goodness. It left Taki wanting seconds.
So he took another bite.
The second bite was just as good, although this time there was a ting of saltiness. He slowly chewed in confusion, wondering where the mysterious saltiness came from, before it clicked.
Taki was crying.
Tears rolled down his cheeks and dripped onto the plate. He tried to wipe away the tears with his shirt by lifting his shoulder, but the waterworks didn't stop. An ugly sniffle came out instead.
Taki’s vision blurred as tears continued filled his eyes. He didn’t know how to stop the tears once they started, not used to crying at all. This was a weird experience.
But at the same time it was also a cathartic experience. It was as if the tears were letting out his repressed emotions, and in turn, taking away the exhaustion he had built up from the past weeks. Perhaps this was what he needed.
So he took the situation as it was and ate another piece of persimmon. Taki’s cheeks filled as he continued to eat and sniffle. He probably looked like a mess by now, crying while eating on the floor, but at this point he didn’t care if anyone caught him in his pathetic state.
Each persimmon piece represented an unspoken message from Kei.
I nag because I care about you. Even if you're unable to yourself, I will take good care of you. I love you.
Taki remembers his heart healing with every piece he ate. He could imagine Kei returning to the kitchen shortly after he had left, spending who-knows-how-long painstakingly cutting up the persimmon for him to eat. The thought of Kei carefully plating up the fruit and quietly leaving it in front of his door to eat when he woke up caused him to sob even more.
Taki couldn’t stop crying that night, the saltiness of his tears mixing with the sweetness of the persimmons to create a bittersweet taste sensation. But that didn't stop him from devouring the entire plate.
To Taki, this was the best thing he has ever eaten.