AU with a hint of FuuKam and TRC!Fuuma. On a karaoke night, Monou Fuuma thinks of his mother's decision to kill herself.
Disclaimer: I do not own X/1999 no matter how hard I wished for. Do your job, Fuuma.
Trigger warning: Suicide, mental illness.
Rated M for sex, violence, difficult themes
Mother
It started out as a happy event, but one particular song had ruined the night for Monou Fuuma.
He was at a karaoke bar with his colleagues. Working in a non-profit organisation which deals with poverty elimination and disaster response means that at the end of a year, there are plenty of things to celebrate. To let off the steam before Christmas holiday, the human resource division decided to book a room for the whole team to get together and reveal their true self in front of the microphone.
Everybody got their turn to sing. Someone sang a theme from a popular anime in 1990s while another person cried as she belted out a popular breaking-up song. Fuuma participated in a mock boyband with three other colleagues; the crowd cheered even though he forgot the lyrics most of the time. Once the gang had finished, their boss –a soft-spoken man in his 50s-- stood up and picked his song.
Mother, how are you today …
Fuuma could hear suppressed laughter on his left and right side. Most of his colleagues maintained a polite smile; it was their boss singing after all. But some of them seriously struggled to not laugh at the cheesy hit from the golden era.
He tried to smile along with them, but could not help noticing that a new feeling had begun to creep up inside him.
Taking a gulp from his can of Asahi beer, he then got up and left for the men's room.
[break]
Locking himself in one of the cubicles, Fuuma sat on top of the stool with its lid closed. He took off his glasses, rubbed his face hard, and allow himself to sink even deeper into this newfound feeling.
Mother. I was happy. A long time ago.
He was born into a typical middle-class Japanese family in Tokyo. His father works in engineering, but he also coached a kendo team and volunteered in the local temple in his spare time. His mother had a degree in English; she worked as a secretary at a small publisher before she decided to quit to focus on her family.
His birth came soon after their marriage, and all the boxes were ticked. A healthy boy as a firstborn, checked. A nice small house in the suburb, checked. A picture-perfect family life that would make anyone green with envy, checked.
One of his earliest memories was of the family having a picnic under the blooming sakura trees. His father was laughing and carefree, a sight that he does not see very often in his adulthood. His mother was allowing him to touch her bulging belly; his sister.
For all that he could remember, his mother was always there for him throughout his childhood. She attended every kendo lesson; she brought home books from her work for them to read together. She even let him be inside the room when his sister Kotori was born.
That was all before she changed.
He began to hear her crying in the middle of the night, when she thought he was fast asleep in his room. He even once caught her crying when she was doing the laundry.
"Mother. Are you okay?"
She shook her head and proceeded to putting the dirty clothes into the washing machine.
Apart from these two incidents, life goes on per normal.
Then his mother's behaviour began to get violent.
Once his baby sister was wailing, begging for food or for her diaper to be changed. Being a good brother, Fuuma tried his best to calm her down. He frantically looked around the room, searching for his mother, only to find her standing in front of the door. She was completely silent, as if she was unaware of the sound of her baby crying. The emptiness inside her eyes gave him chills even today.
One day at the supermarket, about two to three years since the first incident, she suddenly exploded with a burst of anger. Kotori was pointing at candies; before she was even able to say anything, Mother started yelling as if she discovered her children stealing from the supermarket. Fuuma tried to calm her down as people were staring at them, but she kept on screaming until she lost her voice.
In the midst of all the yellings, Fuuma noticed that she was not angry at her children. She was screaming at people that were not even there at the supermarket.
But the worst was when the three of them were taking a train ride to visit grandmother.
Walking onto the train, Fuuma and Kotori rushed to find the best seat near the window, and the siblings were soon too busy to notice anything but the view outside. At one moment, when his sister was happily pointing at the mountain far away, Fuuma turned around only to find that Mother was no longer by his side.
She was standing in front of the train's door, and before anyone can stop her, she tried to yanked it open.
She even tried to use an umbrella that another passenger carried to break the door open.
It was chaotic. Everyone on the train tried to stop her; people actually had to pin her down to prevent her from hurting anyone. Kotori cried, and Fuuma found himself being too petrified to make any move.
It was the first time she made any attempt to hurt herself, and Fuuma could not help remembering the events with irony. She quitted her job in order to spend more time with her children. Who would have thought that it would be her children spending their time watching over her.
[break]
Strangely enough, even in the most difficult of times, there were still happy memories made.
Mother would read stories for her children before bedtime. Whenever her favourite song was on the radio, she would turn the volume up and made everyone stop whatever activities they are doing to dance with her. Sundays were always dedicated to baking; that was how Kotori grew to love pastries and decided to build a career out of it.
One night, when Fuuma was nine, Mother sneaked into his room and woke him up. Be quiet, and follow me, she said. Struggling to stay awake, the boy then followed his mother outside, where she had actually prepared a ladder to go to the rooftop.
Together they climbed to the rooftop, and Fuuma was in awe of the beautiful night sky above. The mother and son duo then spent the night sitting on the rooftop, cuddling and watching the stars.
Mother told him how much she loved him, and how proud she was of him. And that he should look after his sister and always be his father's confidant.
Fuuma had only begun to realise how reckless her behaviour that night was in the next few days; it was really dark, they could easily slip down and get hurt.
As for the words that she was saying, it was not until one year later that he understood why she had to say it.
Kotori and Fuuma came home from school only to find out that the front door was unlocked.
There was no sound from inside of the house. Mother's sandals were not in its place, indicating that she was not at home. The siblings walked even further in; inside the kitchen, they saw a piece of meat in the sink. It seems like Mother was defrosting it for dinner, yet she was nowhere to be seen. They even checked inside their parents' bedroom and found that her wallet was still on the dressing table. Strange, as she would never leave home without it.
Fuuma then told his sister to wait in the living room while he made a phone call to their father's office.
Little did he know that by the time the phone on his father's desk rang, he was walking away to talk to a police officer.
He came to the office to ask him to identify a body.
[break]
Father did not let them see her for the last time.
However, in the midst of all the chaos, nobody knew that Fuuma actually managed to take a glimpse of the body lying cold in the morgue. She was covered by a white sheet, but he was able to see her hand.
He had secretly hoped that everything was a mistake, that the person lying there was not Mother. But he was too familiar with that hand. It gave her away. It was white and frail; the diamond on her finger glistened, as if radiating a last glimmer of hope for her life.
After the funeral, Father sat them down. This is a difficult time, he said. We need to stick together as family.
Where is Mother, Kotori asked. She would not stop crying.
She is going to Heaven now, Father replied.
Why she not take us there, she asked again.
I have no idea, Father replied. He then got up and asked Fuuma to take care of his sister before heading into his study. The siblings did not see him again until the next day.
Ever since then, taking care of his sister became a new priority for Fuuma. Every other day, his father's sisters would come to visit and take care of the children. But most of the times, the siblings were by themselves.
He hugged her when she cried at night; he tried to answer all her questions the best way he could. When Kotori's mind was not on her mother, Fuuma did his best to make sure that it stays that way.
Only when he was alone that he was able to grieve. He never cried publicly; not even in front of his sister. In the next few years, he became quiet and spent more time with his books than with friends.
He spent his adolescence being busy with school and basketball; if anyone thought that this would made him popular in high school, they were wrong. He had begun to talk more often, but was still extra careful about letting people into his life.
In his silence, he discovered that he has a knack for reading people. He was able to detect fleeting emotions even in the slightest change of people's expression; he can even understand people's motivations behind their action, when others can only sneer at it. He later decided to take up psychology and social work for his major in college, as he was also curious about what his Mother had gone through.
In college, he managed to save up some money from part-time jobs and began a new hobby: Travelling. Climbing mountains, backpacking throughout Southeast Asia. Doing an internship in India and a semester in the US.
Seeing the world was proven beneficial for him. He began to feel enthusiastic about life again, and eventually started to open up to people. He even went on dates and some parties, and started to pick his clothes based on what looks good on him.
When he graduated, it was only natural for him to find jobs in international development.
He felt fulfilled, and only thought of his mother on his weakest moments. When he was bedridden with malaria in Bangladesh; when he discovered a kid in Syria with nothing but her late mother's clothes in her hands. When they bombed the refugee camp he was working in.
Or that night in the karaoke bar, when alcohol and a silly song reminded him of her again.
Inside the toilet, he bowed his head deeper and cried it all out.
Because she was there, and then she was gone.
He did not even get to say goodbye. And there were too many questions inside his head, even today. Was it painful when it happened? Was she scared? Did she regret it at the last minute? Did she think of her family? Her son?
He cried for a good five minutes until he heard someone walking into the men's room. He took that as his cue to leave; wiping his face dry, he put his glasses back on, and walked back into the karaoke room to pick up his parka.
Luckily everyone was too drunk to notice him leaving.
[break]
At the station, Fuuma was just going to tap his card into the gate when he changed his mind.
He was going to head home and spend time in his bedroom, but knowing his state of mind, he felt that it would be better for him to stay outside. And not be alone.
He turned around, apologising to people for keeping them waiting for him. Then he took out his smartphone to let Kotori know that he will not be home tonight.
Once the message was sent, he wrote down another one to a different number.
Less than an hour later, he found himself standing in front of the door of an apartment unit.
He was about to ring a bell when it opened slightly, revealing a pair of cat-like eyes.
"Hey ..."
"Come on in, quick. I don't want anyone to see you."
The young man then hurriedly opened the door for him to enter.
Fuuma sighed. It must be really hard to be a famous actor; you have to keep on watching your back just in case the paparazzi shows up and discover your taste for tall-dark-handsome men.
"I thought you were out with friends," Kamui said. There was anger on his voice, but Fuuma is used to that.
"I left earlier," he replied.
"Oh, did they bore you? I have to be in the studio at 8AM tomorrow but I guess you can sta … Oops."
His rambling was silenced with a hug.
As Fuuma adsorbed the young man's scent and shape into himself, he could feel the tension disappeared from his body.
When he let go of him, Kamui's face was tender. "Are you okay?"
Fuuma touched the young man's face with both of his hands. His mind rushed with all sort of possible answers, but he only replied with, "Have you called your Mom?"
Kamui blinked. "Huh? My Mom? Why?"
"Just … call her. Do you need a reason?"
"She's fine. Must be busy with work and stuff."
Fuuma sighed. "It won't hurt to call."
[break]
Fuuma spent the next hour laying on Kamui's bed, while the owner of the bed laid beside him. Both of the guys were staring into the ceiling in silence.
"Did you guys ever find out why?" Kamui asked.
"Bipolar disorder. Never been formally diagnosed, though. I matched her symptoms with my textbooks in college," Fuuma replied. "It's also possible that she had post-partum depression."
"Oh, heard of it. Is it really that bad?"
"Yeah, if left untreated."
Kamui turned to face him. "Do you think about her all the time? Um. Sorry. Stupid question."
"I think about her often. Do you know what makes me really sad? I mean, it was bad enough on its own. But the saddest part is that there are many, many things that she could have done … Not only for us, but also for herself."
Fuuma moved his hands wildly. "She loved to write, Kamui. I realised this too late. But when she read us stories, many of them were her own. And I discovered her diary years later. It was filled with short stories. Written for her kids."
He sighed. "She could've been a writer or something."
The younger man did not say anything. Instead, he moved closer to his partner. And pulled him close into his hug.
For a few minutes, the two stayed in this position.
"Feel better?"
"Yeah."
"Please don't be sad. I'll be sad, too."
"Selfish jerk."
"You're welcome, arsehole."
For the first time since the karaoke, Fuuma found himself laughing.
"I love it when you're nasty," he muttered.
As if as an afterthought, he moved his hand from his partner's waist.
"I looove it when you're nasty …," he repeated, moving to whisper it in Kamui's ears.
"That was fast," Kamui rolled his eyes.
"Can go slow if you want," he whispered. His hand was already on Kamui's behind, grasping it gently, while his lips was aiming for the perfect spot on his neck.
"Pervert," Kamui muttered once Fuuma had found that spot. But he adjusted his position to his partner's movement anyway, so that he would be right under him.
Fuuma smirked, gently diving into the younger man's lips.
Silence filled the air as their tongue danced. Unable to contain his desire, Fuuma stopped only to take off his T-shirt and unbuckle his trousers. Helping Kamui out of his sweater, they kissed even more before Fuuma changed his position. He laid himself on the bed while he guided the young man into his center. Not enough with his hands, the younger man moved down to let his magic does its works. Fuuma groaned as it added more power to the growing sensation there.
His sadness had led him to crave for human touch. His was exactly what he needed.
[END]