Requested by an anon on tumblr

Choromatsu

Choromatsu isn't sure when his relationship with Osomatsu began to change.

Maybe it was around middle school, when the six of them were divided up in different classes, as per school regulations, and for the first time since forever his brothers and him knew what it felt like to spend an entire day without each other to prod and push around.

Or maybe it was in high school, when the differences in their personalities really made themselves known. When Choromatsu would stay up late in the evenings, diligently studying for tests and the (in hindsight completely wasted) cram school he was attending, while Osomatsu was content roaming the streets as if he was still 12, skipping detention and picking fights.

Or maybe, Choromatsu just didn't want to dwell on it. Maybe it was simply too painful to think too hard about.

And it didn't matter either.

All that matters is that one day, Choromatsu looked at his eldest brother, and realized he had no idea where the boy he shared his youth with went.

He is a very light sleeper, which is one of the reasons their futon arrangement is the way it is. Nighttime is one of the rare and only occasions where Jyushimatsu will go completely still, no movement nor sound.

And Osomatsu sleeps like a log regardless of whether he had a few beers or not.

He used to anyway.

But by now, Choromatsu has stopped counting the times he was roused out of slumber, the room around them dark and filled with the sound of light snoring, by his brother's fidgeting. He cracks an eye open carefully, vision one big blur.

He can feel the warmth at his side leave him when Osomatsu carefully crawls out of the blankets, padding them down behind him to avoid the others from getting cold in a rare display of good brotherhood.

His bare feet make little plopping sounds against the wood as he grabs his stray hoodie from the couch and leaves the room, a pack of cigarettes curled in one fist.

When he's sure his brother has left, Choromatsu exhales shakily, rolling over and staring at the now empty spot besides him.

He think of when they were children. When one of them had a nightmare, the others had no choice but to be woken up and deal with it, usually ending in one big pile of warmth and comfort.

When had they stopped doing that?

Sometimes it takes a few hours for Osomatsu to come back. Sometimes he simply doesn't.

Choromatsu lies awake and stares at the ceiling, wondering if he should go and check.

But maybe he shouldn't. Maybe Osomatsu would think he's taking things too seriously again. That he's being a worrywart, or too overbearing. Maybe Osomatsu would tell him to mind his own business.

Maybe Osomatsu would tell him he didn't want Choromatsu's help.

The thought of such an outright rejection is more painful even than the unease eating its way through his gut, keeping him up while his heart stammers away.

So Choromatsu rolls over instead, staring at Jyushimatsu's peaceful sleeping smile besides him and tries hard not to think about it.

He's not sure why Osomatsu thinks they don't notice. He's not really the most subtle guy around.

Quite the contrary, the oldest Matsuno sibling can't be described as anything besides loud and obnoxious.

But then he goes quiet and starts fidgeting with his sleeves. He'll leave the room to seek solitude, where he is normally always demanding attention.

Choromatsu gets concerned.

He looks at the others and realizes it's not so much that they don't notice. It's that they don't do anything.

The tense silence is filled with redundant noises. The missing brother is ignored. The empty space carefully turned a back upon.

And Choromatsu feels like screaming.

Why? Why doesn't anybody do anything? Why do they just pretend like Osomatsu is fine? Like they're all just fine?

He scratches his arms, traces white lines into pale skin. Why doesn't he do anything?

He should say something.

Instead, he buries himself into his magazines. Denies what is clearly there in favor of pretend productivity.

Osomatsu is an adult now. They are all adults. They should be able to take care of themselves.

Then why does Choromatsu still feel so guilty?

It was a bit too embarrassing to explain to Totty why he wanted to borrow his phone. The younger brother would probably think he's looking at something dirty again, and Choromatsu simply couldn't deal with that right now.

Not when the previous nickname is still around.

So he goes to the library instead. They have computers anybody can use, and while the lack of privacy is a bit irking, there's no alternative he can think of.

His fingers tremble slightly over the keys. There are a lot more sites about these kinds of things than Choromatsu thought there would be, and the churning in his gut is only getting worse.

He's clicking links and scrolling down list after list of 'warning signs', each one getting more alarming as he goes. Words like depression, apathy, self harm... suicide.

Suddenly, he regrets coming in the first place.

With an odd feeling in his throat, he closes the pages, staring at the too bright screen and wishing he is wrong.

Then he breathes deep and opens another tab.

When he comes home, it's still early afternoon. Their other brothers are nowhere to be seen, Osomatsu is lying on the floor by himself, one hand resting against his chin as he idly flicks through a manga.

The chance of finding a more convenient time soon is extremely small.

Choromatsu curls his fingers around the paper in his pocket, feels the edge cut into his thumb.

"Osomatsu-nii-san?" His voice is shaking a bit so he clears his throat. His brother doesn't even look up to acknowledge him. "We need to talk."

Maybe it's the serious tone he's using, or maybe it's simply the fact that the two of them barely really speak anymore, that makes Osomatsu close the comic, sprawling on his back instead.

"What is it now, Chorofapsky? Did Ichi rat me out again?"

"Rat about what?" The comment derails his train of thought and he almost smacks his brother preemptively right then and there, even if he's not sure what the other has done wrong this time.

"Nothing, nothing." Osomatsu quickly interjects, waving a hand dismissively. "What's up?"

Choromatsu is seething, but decides to let it slide. If he doesn't go through with his original intention now, he might never do so.

So he trudges over instead, crouching down next to his elder brother's head and looking down at him. "Osomatsu-nii-san. Are you alright?"

For a few seconds, Osomatsu just blinks up at him with a neutral expression. "I'm fine." He says evenly.

Choromatsu's mouth is turned down in his usual frown, and now his eyebrows follow suit. "No, I'm serious. Are you happy?"

They stare at each other some more, and Choromatsu can feel his face heat up, embarrassment seeping in as he tries not to bite his stupid tongue.

Then Osomatsu's face is splitting into a huge shit-eating grin and he brings one hand up to poke his brother in the cheek.

"Aaah- Are you that worried about your dear Onii-san?" Choromatsu draws back to avoid the poking finger, Osomatsu getting up to follow. And maybe hug him too, judging by that look on his face. "That's so cute. Why aren't you that cute more often!"

Choromatsu is huffing in irritation, grabbing his older brother by the wrist. Osomatsu just brings his other hand up to pat him on the head, grinning like an idiot.

Choromatsu gets up quickly, hands fisted at his sides. "Stop it. I'm being serious!"

Osomatsu is too busy laughing at his indignant face, clutching his sides as if it physically hurts him.

After a few moments of this, Choromatsu stomps out the room, throwing the door closed behind him a lot harder than necessary.

He finds the paper in his pocket a few days later, crumpled and creased. The letters are slightly faded, but still readable.

The name and address of a nearby psychiatrist.

Choromatsu flattens it out, biting his lip as he stares at the text, before throwing it in a nearby trash bin.

If you enjoyed it, please let me know with a comment!