Inspired by:

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=aPa89K_viiM

For all those who feel like they've just had enough, who don't have support from those who matter most, those who just don't feel like they're good enough and are simply tired of trying.

Hold on.

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Jasmine hadn't had a terrible childhood, but it hadn't been wonderful, either.

He had always been a little more shy and introverted than his classmates and was the type to be perfectly content in his own world of imagination, creativity and most importantly, music. He played his own games, dreamt his own dreams and as he grew older, developed his own set of values.

Perhaps these had been the problems; the reasons why he felt that he just wasn't cut out for proper social function.

As a child, Jasmine hadn't been given much grief from his parents about his tendency to be a "loner" of sorts. This made young adult Jasmine feel envious of the quirks that children were able to get away with. He had imaginary friends, spent his time reading, writing and exploring different instruments and nothing was said about his liking for putting on make up and dresses. When he was about seven or eight, his father had put in a comment about how "men" shouldn't be wearing "women's" clothing, but hadn't chided his still young son too severely. After all, his father had figured, most children experienced phases of odd interests, and this was obviously his son's.

When Jasmine grew into adolescence, however, and still preferred to keep to himself, rather than to go out with his (few) friends and take part in school activities, the onslaught of disapproval and criticism that his parents seemed to have been saving up until that point crashed down upon him like a raging river finally shattering a dam.

"Yuuichi, when I was your age, I was part of the kendo club in school! You should be doing sports or at least join a church group, instead of spending all your time playing guitar! What can you possibly do with that?" His father would always say, making Jasmine feel extremely small.

"Your behavior just isn't normal for someone your age," his mother had put in, when Jasmine was seventeen. "You should have had a job by now; you should be planning what to study in university next year. You've got to start building yourself up!"

Jasmine wasn't opposed to having a job; in fact, he wouldn't mind working in summer, but having his parents nag at him every single day, it seemed, and several times a day at that, acted like a repelant to even his own ideas. Why, as he was moving on into adulthood, was he still his parents' marionette?

Being told such things since he was thirteen had indeed marked Jasmine, and nothing that he did seemed to merit his parents' approval. When he had come home one time, in high school, bursting with happiness because his music teacher had found that he had great potential and talent with instruments and had suggested that he take part in the district talent show, his parents had laughed - laughed - at him, and simply said,

"Talent show?! Pfft; it'd be nice if you showed that much excitement about your studies, for once!"

They had never directly forbidden him from entering the talent show, per se, but they didn't need to say it aloud for Jasmine to know that he certainly did not have their support.

He had put on a smile, gone along with his parents' jabs at him, then excused himself, saying that he was going to take a shower. As soon as he was out of sight and earshot, he had burst into tears and the sudden rush of confidence that he felt at being told that he was actually good at something crumbled and tottered his dreams of being a musician like a house of cards with a card missing from the bottom. The following day, he had told his teacher that he unfortunately didn't have time to prepare for the show, with his upcoming final exams, but in his heart, he was explaining that he just didn't have the support.

Not helping Jasmine's already injured self-confidence was the fact that he didn't really have any friends. There were some students who were nice to him- but they were nice to everyone. Most of his classmates ignored him and some thought that he was "funny", because he was quiet and was in good favor with the teachers.

He didn't even eat in the cafeteria like the other students; he hated eating in public because his mother always criticized the way that he handled his chopsticks with soft delicacy, like a girl, she had said.

"Do you really think that someone of high class would eat like that?" She had once said, as Jasmine set his chopsticks across his bowl, as though they were flowers.

He had lost his appetite, afterwards, and found that his focus for the rest of the meal was on keeping the lump that had formed in his throat down and on fighting away the burning tears that were threatening to fall.

All that he had to sustain himself was his daydreams of playing his bass guitar in a band, in front of thick, applauding crowd, even though these dreams didn't seem to have much more strength than delicate tissue paper.

The one time that he had had enough courage to tell his parents that he wanted to be a musician, when he was fifteen, had nearly resulted in a family fight or rather, a major lecture directed towards him. Jasmine hated fighting and raising his voice, and so, his sensitive soul was greatly injured by his parents harsh words about how he should find himself a professional, reputable job, which, according to them, was anything other than something in show business.

And so, Jasmine had indeed tried his hardest in embracing academics and exploring other careers. Some were indeed interesting, and he felt that these jobs wouldn't be too bad, as long as he could come home to his music. But no matter how much effort he put into redirecting his goals, it just didn't feel right- like a shoe that was just a half a size too small.

As soon as he had established the financial means, Jasmine had moved out of his parents' home and bought himself his own apartment in Tokyo. For twenty year old Jasmine, the move was probably the best thing that had ever happened to him.

For the first time in his life, he was able to explore the world around him through his own eyes. It was enjoyable and liberating to be able to go and shop for his own clothing, his own groceries and musical equipment. No one criticized him anymore, about the way that he ate, the way that he dressed or his interests and it was suddenly much easier to breathe.

But so many years in introverted seclusion proved to have hindered him a little; he felt nervous talking to other people, even the customers at the clothing store where he worked. Often, he would find himself saying something that he felt was just plain stupid, and his already negative outlook on himself sunk further.

"Mum was right," Jasmine would find himself thinking, every night before falling asleep, frequently with tears trailing down his fair cheeks. "I really am weird and I don't have any social skills..."

It wasn't until he met his band mates that Jasmine began to feel more comfortable in his own skin.

Hizaki, Kamijo, Yuki and Teru shared interests that were similar to his "odd" ones, and even if there were differences, they never judged and were open to anything. It also did wonders for Jasmine's self-confidence to have realized his dream of performing and it made him feel even less alone when fans wrote to him about situations similar to his own.

And when he and Kamijo had, after a few years, become boyfriends, Jasmine finally felt that the damage that had been done was nearly entirely repaired.

But of course, there were still days when Jasmine would hear his mother's voice telling him that he wasn't getting anywhere with his life, or his father chiding him for not being a "man".

Such was one of those days, which had Jasmine sitting on the couch, with his knees tucked under his chin and tears soaking his clear cream skin and his silky dyed light brown hair.

Sadly, he examined his elaborately manicured finger nails, and imagined the words of disapproval that his parents would undoubtedly have, if they were right in front of him.

"One day you're going to realize what a mistake you've made," his mother would tell him. "Education is everything, and you'll never be able to think and make right choices if you keep going on the way you are...! I worry about you..."

"This is just abnormal." Would be all that his father needed to say, but it was enough to cause hurt and injury.

Sticks and stones can break my bones, but words will never hurt me... what a terribly wrong statement.

So absorbed in his sadness Jasmine was, that he didn't even notice his lover walk into the room.

"Jasu, have you seen the- Jasmine?" Kamijo stopped in the midst of asking his boyfriend if he knew where the bottle of hand soap that they'd just bought was, upon noticing the younger man curled tightly on the couch and looking awfully dejected.

"Sweetheart, what's wrong?" Kamijo asked, concerned, as he immediately sat down beside his lover and wrapped his arms around him.

"...I-I can't do anything..!" Jasmine wailed, burrying his face into Kamijo's shoulder.

Warm arms folded his body into a warm embrace, and Jasmine just cried and cried. He knew that he didn't have to say a word; Kamijo understood exactly why it was that he was feeling so horribly about himself, seemingly out of the blue, and he was glad for the always offered refuge.

"Yes you can; Jasmine, you're just amazing. Don't let it get to you," Kamijo said, softly, rubbing his lover's back in comfort, as the younger man sobbed.

Kamijo knew that further words were not needed; his pretty little Jasmine just needed to be held, to have someone there for him, as he had never really had before, and so he simply held him and offered his presence as solace.

"Thanks," Jasmine sniffed, after awhile, when his tears had finally stopped.

Kamijo kissed him, in answer, and hugged him tightly.

"Wait here," he smiled, after brushing away the last of Jasmine's tears.

In Kamijo's absence, Jasmine dried the rest of his tears with the back of his sweater sleeve, and found that he was able to give a little smile. Just having someone there for him took so much of the weight from his shoulders.

When Kamijo returned, he had a thick quilt folded over his arm and two cups of hot chocolate in his hands. He set them on the coffee table, rejoined Jasmine on the sofa and wrapped the quilt around them both.

"Dracula is supposed on tonight," Kamijo informed, knowing that watching scary movies was an effective way of cheering Jasmine up.

It worked, indeed, and as Jasmine leaned against Kamijo's shoulder, he felt extremely safe. Kamijo had never made him feel lowly or incompetent, despite his imperfections. With Kamijo, Jasmine felt that he always be himself and that he could never go wrong.

They didn't always say "I love you" all the time, as some couples in movies did, and they didn't have to.

The little sanctuary that they had created with their love reminded them of this unspoken fact, everyday.

Note:

Written because we all need a place where we won't be judged or made to feel as if we're lower and more useless than dirt.

Thanks for reading :)

x Angela