Don't Be (At least be human)
Warnings: Angst, Implied Incest/Rape/Abuse
Summary: She was in the kitchen. The sound of dishes hitting each other, water spilling out into the sink, and footsteps... rang in his ears.
Yamato stood by the doorway, looking out the window as high as his nine year old frame would reach. All he could think about was when his Dad would be home. The little blonde had suspected it some time ago-- that is, his father was working late --but didn't want to think about it.
He turned to see his little brother in his pig pajamas, butt planted on the floor and scribbling in a coloring book. As reckless as it sounds, the little one kept sure not to draw on the carpet in fear of a spanking later, or worse. He may have only been four years younger, but he still knew better.
Yamato's mom, on the other hand, was in the kitchen. The sound of dishes hitting each other, water spilling out into the sink, and footsteps... rang in his ears. Then silence for a moment, like a bomb was about to go off and everyone was staring up in awe at it, then, "Takeru? Yamato? Did you brush your teeth yet? It's almost time for bed."
Takeru hopped off the floor and tugged on his brother's arm. "Let's go, Onnichan"
Yamato nodded and followed down the hallway. He was trying to be nice as he pulled the little green and yellow stool out from the storage closet in the bathroom so his brother could reach the sink easier, but he felt sick inside.
"You seem sad," the younger one said as foam spilled from his mouth. Yamato handed him a small cup of water to rinse with. Takeru sensed it by the blank stare in the sapphires that were his Onnichan's eyes, but always dismissed it as loneliness in the absence of their father.
Yamato stared into the mirror, the water running for no reason, looking himself over. He was barely dressed, yet to get a nightshirt from his dresser drawer. It reflected how he felt. He tugged on the elastic and hoped things would stay that way. Then the two headed off to sleep.
Takeru slept on the top bunk, despite his age and fear of heights, only because their mother insisted. Takeru thought himself lucky, but only Yamato knew the real reason why.
He watched as his brother delicately climbed the stepladder. Young and ignorant.
Yamato then buried himself under the covers, only blonde spikes and his worried eyes peeking out from underneath them. He waited for his mother to come tuck them in to bed, fearing so, knowing things were wrong, not able to control those things and not able to ask why.
The older one closed his eyes and tried to imagine some place better, with friends. Empty bleachers, kids laughing and rolling around on the soccer field, he would just play his father's guitar, waiting for Takeru to get out of school so they could walk back to a happy home. They'd live with their father somewhere, with no darkness.
He opened his eyes just as Natsuko walked in. She smiled that fake smile which filled Yamato's heart with every bad emotion. He only listened as she tucked Takeru in and then fluffed Yamato's pillow. She pulled the covers down to his waist and ran her hand over his face to move the bangs from his eyes.
His mother kissed him goodnight. Not like she kissed Takeru-- on the cheek --but like she kissed tousan... She traced her hand to smooth the wrinkles in the sheets, just reaching his knees when the sound of the front door opening and closing echoed through.
She hurried and left, turning off the light.
Yamato felt tears of relief well up in his eyes and only whispered a prayer; it was pitch black, but there would be no darkness that night.
