The lights were shut off, and Taka stood still on the stage. He took deep breaths as he sensed a piano being settled in place. After two exhausting performances of Et Cetera and Karasu, he felt emotionally deprived, yet his heart ticked down with the time as he marched over to his position in front of the keys. He looked around him and all he saw was darkness, it felt cold, depsite that he was drenched in his sweat. The thousands of people who came to watch him sing, they all remained silent as his fingers grazed the white digits lined neatly on the board. The orchestra behind him started playing the decided tunes, and Taka's hands started producing the first chords. The vocalist's heart beat faster with every passing note, as he knew, the upcoming song wasn't any salvage of his. As its name already states, the words he has so miserably written, pierce right through his heart, like a needle slowly going through a soft piece of cloth. Yet on the contrary, the song slashed his wounds open instead of sewing them together.

The lights shyly sprinkled over the frontman as he gracefully passed his hands over the instrument in his possession. A single beam of light was directed towards him, and his red microphone, that he held dear, like a part of himself, stood lonely, awaiting his raw notes. Taka strained his voice, pressing his lips firm at every given opportunity. As he sang aimlessly, he wondered; had he told the truth then, would have things ended differently? Would he have avoided the pain and regrets? Maybe he could've prevented his heart from shattering as well

But he couldn't bring himself to say it, he felt so sick of it. His voice almost wavered, however, he had to maintain his composure. As all lights around him were out, and the only light was flashing towards him, he felt his back too vulnerable and unprotected. He was the only one in the light, yet all he felt was darkness and chills, slowly drowing him.

His expression faltered towards the end of the song, his mouth pouted resulting from the trembling of his lower lip. But he had to end the song properly. Takahiro gathered his broken pieces and choked out the final lines, waiting desperately for everything to go black. And when it did, he felt relief, every sound around him drowned and he felt numb. Momentarily, projectors were put to rest, during which Taka felt a warm hand go through his hair, followed by a soft kiss to his head. "Great job" he heard a voice barely over a whisper, too familiar for him to mistake, even in the dimness of the place. Suddenly, the coldness he felt a while previously was all gone, replaced by a feeling of security, one that only one man can provide.

His fingers slowly went up to his head, pulling on the fingers of Yamashita Toru, his saviour, and protector. Taka smiled as he caressed the guitarist's hand. He felt grateful, he felt safe. No more pain, no more anxiety, only Toru. Soon the leader had to walk away, before the leds were on once again. The frontman forced his expression to change, readying himself for the next song, only one thought occupying his mind: .