1.
He can't eat fish anymore.
He can, but it's not enough, not filling. Vegetables are only so much too. His stomach growls like he's offended it, growls like he's the one at fault. Like everything is wrong and he is right.
All that works is red meat, cooked barely. And his wallet weeps. His family stares.
The only thing that hurts more than his aching stomach is the bite mark scabbed over his leg. Even six months later it's not healed. It's only scabbed.
He can't tell anyone. There's no one to tell. Not his father, who is never home. Not his mother, who he cannot forgive for splitting the pack – their family. Takeru? Takeru is finally acting like a normal child again, bartering for training cards and whining for the last chocolate bar. He doesn't cry at everything anymore, barely cries at anything now. He doesn't want to jeopardize him. His brother doesn't need him for everything, but th
So he deals.
He stays quiet because he doesn't have any ideas. Meanwhile he cuts his hair with kitchen scissors and continues settling for raw fish and running at night.
Sometimes, Taichi is outside. He's kicking a ball at a wall, shaking when he has to go get it. Sometimes Hikari is there, calling plays and racing after it without coughing.
He doesn't know when everyone became everywhere.
They never talk. Sometimes Sora is around for no reason.
Help me, he begs in silence.
No one does. No one can.
A/N: Verse! It's ready! It's postable! Ilu!
Challenges: Diversity Writing F59,