I'm alive!
Sorry for not being as active over here. I was hit in the face with some personal issues these past few months and writing wasn't one of my top priorities. I've been forgetting to upload the stuff that I did get written, so I'll be uploading them here when I'm not doing homework. s/o if you read them on tumblr first you the real MVP
In all of his thirteen years of living, Hiro silently prayed that his childhood pet name of chiisai nezumi, little mouse, would hopefully live up to its meaning as he pressed his palms against the window pane. He pushed upward, knowing that he left the window unlocked before he slipped out a few hours earlier, but his hands slid against the glass, trailing a faint streak of red behind them and a ghosty white outline of where his hands were placed before. Hiro cursed under his breath as he regained his balance on the awning, wishing that he had something to steady himself as he tried to break back into his own apartment. It was a long five-story drop, the garbage bags below him wouldn't comfortably break his fall, and he really didn't want to shimmy up the drainage pipe again.
He'd done this before. He'd done this dozens of times. A self-proclaimed expert. But why were his bloody hands trembling as he went back to work at lifting up the window? His heart was uncomfortably raging against his chest like a trapped bird in a birdcage, most likely a side effect of the adrenaline that started leaking into his bloodstream when he first stepped foot into the abandoned warehouse hours ago. The feeling of pinning his undefeated fighter bot against other robots for cash, and a lot of it, sent a rush through his little body that Hiro could never fully describe. It was euphoric, almost liberating in a sense. That he could finally use his robotics knowledge and expertise and turn it into the biggest profit that he couldn't've even dreamed of.
But it came with a price. And it usually resulted in him getting injured somehow. Scrapes on his hands and knees from losing his balance while running away from some sore losers. Bruises. Twisted ankles. Death threats even.
It didn't keep him away. Even when the cons greatly outweighed the pros. Because the positive things about risking his neck every single time he snuck out of his bedroom window were more important than a few bumps and scrapes.
Alleviating some of the stress off his older brother's plate, for example. Slipping some of his earnings into Tadashi's wallet to help cover the some of the bills and rent so they could keep living in their apartment. Bringing home some groceries with money he "found" on the ground so that their next food bill wouldn't be as high.
It wasn't much, but it was better than letting Tadashi shoulder all the worry. Hiro could live with sore legs and shin splints and his other array of injuries. He was good at patching himself up, too, although he was pretty sure his teachers may have noticed his bandages, or taken a second glance around the time when he favored his left leg after he rolled his ankle. But at least Tadashi never brought it up, maybe he hadn't even noticed.
He was never around much to fully notice anything anyway.
Hiro unceremoniously rolled into his bedroom, landing skull first against the ratty carpet that the landlord refused to change out. Seriously, what was with him tonight? He whistled a hiss through his gap, catching himself before raising a hand to rub against the rising bump. No. Not again. He wasn't going to get blood in his hair again. He had to throw out a pillowcase last month when blood had gotten all over it in his sleep. That was a bad night, one not worth remembering.
Ignoring the throb at the back of his head, Hiro slid his shoes off before creaking his bedroom door open, cursing at squeaky hinges that seemed to hate him. They might as well be screaming, Tadashi! Tadashi! Your little brother was out bot-fighting again! Check his pockets! The money's in there!
He held his breath, listening through the thick silence for any signs of life from Tadashi's bedroom. Granted, their rooms were located at either sides of the apartment, but anyone could've heard his head's impact with the floor a mile away. After a few minutes of waiting, Hiro concluded that Tadashi must've slept through it, and he began the tiptoed journey to the bathroom for the first-aid kit.
After closing the door and snapping the light on, Hiro dropped to his knees and tore open the lower sink doors. There, after digging past some probably expired cleaning products, he found his brother's kit. He'd been looting through the box a lot for the past couple of months, making sure to replenish it every few weeks to avoid any suspicion. Hiro pried the plastic box open, gazing down at the organized piles of medical supplies and adhesive bandages. With a deep breath, he wrapped crimson stained fingers around the bottle of hydrogen peroxide and picked out a few cotton balls.
It was going to sting like a bitch, but the last thing that he needed was an infection. And the last thing that they both needed was Hiro to go to the doctor. They literally couldn't afford him getting hurt. It was pretty ironic in a way.
He was just about to dribble the antiseptic on the cotton ball when there was a heart-dropping knock at the door.
"Hiro?"
He recognized that voice anywhere, even when it was dripping with fatigue.
"T-Tadashi? What's up?"
"I should be the one saying that. I heard a noise. Everything alright?"
"Y-Yeah. Everything okay with you?"
"Hiro," Tadashi sighed, obviously up to here, "drop the act, alright? Is everything okay? Are you sick?"
"N-No," he stammered, silently cursing his genius brain for a sudden blank of believable ideas, "I'm-I'm just… uh…"
There was a brief silence. Hiro hoped that Tadashi miraculously grew tired and went back to bed, but then the door handle started to turn.
"I'm coming in."
Before Tadashi could fully open the door, Hiro jumped up, crusted hands shooting out for the brass knob. He firmly grasped it, then quite literally fell backwards.
"What the- Hiro!" He could feel Tadashi try and jiggle the knob sideways, but Hiro's grip was solid. There was no way that Tadashi was coming in when he was in this condition. "Hiro, if there's something wrong, I need to know what it is! Let me in!"
"I'm fine, Tadashi! Go back to bed! You have work in the morning!"
"And you have school! Now open up!"
The brothers went on with their closed-door battle, twisting their wrists this way and that, digging sock-clad heels into the grooves of tile, silently cursing at the loss of muscle mass, each Hamada exerting every fiber in their being to get the door to open or stay closed.
"Hiro Alexander, open the door right now!"
"Don't you even try using at my middle name, Tadashi Lewis!" Hiro snapped. "It's not gonna get me to open up!"
With a roar, the elder brother suddenly jerked the knob to the side, and swung the door on its hinges. Hiro followed the direction of the abrupt flow, swinging on his side of the knob and tumbling onto the carpet. He lay there on his side for a few moments, trembling at the stinging sensation of some of his scabbing cuts reopening.
He was definitely going to feel that for a while.
Hiro heard his brother's feet frantically slap against the carpet, then drop down on his knees at his side.
"Oh, my God, oh, my God. Hiro, Hiro, are you okay? I'm so sorry, oh, my God, Hiro. C'mon, little bro, look at me."
He felt Tadashi's hands lightly grab his shoulders, digging a thumb against a healing bruise on his shoulder before rolling him to a sitting position. A palm snaked to his chin, and forced his head to rise and meet Tadashi's panicked eyes. They didn't remain panicked for long, not until he got a quick look at his brother's face.
"Oh, my, God."
He probably saw his cheek at first, the way it was swelling out and turning a nice faint shade of purple. That was from Hiro's last opponent, with a hefty price tag of $2,500. There was also the oozing two-inch cut above his left eyebrow. He already looked at it, it wasn't that deep, so he didn't need any stitches. Thank God.
Along with other little nicks and dirt and grime smeared across his face, Hiro looked like a mess. He felt like one too, but it was a hazard that you had to accept when you stepped into the bot-fighting ring.
"That's not from hitting the floor, isn't it?"
All he could do was shake his head. The two sat there for a while, Hiro feeling completely defeated while Tadashi looked closer at his little brother's injuries. Two months of secrecy, completely shot down and exposed.
"Alright," Tadashi eventually sighed, pushing himself off the floor, "get up. Go back to the bathroom."
"But-"
"Get in there and sit down. No buts."
There weren't many words exchanged between the two as Tadashi not so gingerly treated Hiro's cuts and scrapes. He didn't know if it was because he was tired or pissed off. It was most likely a combination of the two. He either swabbed too hard or left too much antiseptic on the cut. Hiro curled his toes to distract himself from the stinging, wrenching his eyes shut and biting down on his lips to keep himself from crying out.
When the last bandage was slapped onto place and Hiro's forehead was taped shut, Tadashi went to work at cleaning up the bathroom. Tossing away wrappers and cotton balls and moping down the counter. Hiro slunk off the counter when his brother's back was turned, beginning another tiptoe journey to his bedroom.
"Don't even think about it," Tadashi growled. "I'm not done with you."
Hiro froze in his tracks, stunned at the tone of his older brother's voice. It had been a long time since he heard his voice go that deep, sound that angry, usually reserved for when the social worker left and Tadashi would rant to one of his college friends.
Hiro meekly stood at the doorway, waiting for Tadashi to finish cleaning up the bathroom. He fiddled with the ratty strings on his hoodie, chewed aglets getting caught against the bandages on his fingers, nearly ripping them off. He didn't dare even imagining what Tadashi's reaction would be if Hiro toddled over to him, needing yet another round of Neosporin and a Band-Aid.
Tadashi quietly slammed the sink door shut, letting out a long, exhausted sigh before peering up at Hiro. If looks could kill, then Tadashi would've become an only child right then and there. He was pissed. There wasn't any other way to describe it. The fact that the anger was directed towards him in particular was more frightening than his expression. They've had their fair share of fights in the past year and a half, but he'd never seen his brother this angry. And it was absolutely terrifying.
Tadashi pointed down at the closed toilet bowl. "Sit."
He wordlessly obeyed, though taking his time crossing the cramped bathroom to take his designated seat. Tadashi crashed down on the edge of the tub, not once breaking his stare at his little brother. Hiro gazed down at the tile, his socks, the bandages on his hands… pretty much anything that would keep him from looking at Tadashi and his fixed death stare.
"Where were you?"
It wasn't intended to be a question. Not an icebreaker or a conversation starter. Tadashi said it with the deliberation to pry answers out of his little brother. Why he woke up to a thud in Hiro's room and finding him a few minutes later trying to patch himself up in the bathroom at two-in-the-morning. He wasn't going to ask twice. And he definitely wasn't in the mood for any of Hiro's "pre-teen sass". "No" wasn't an option.
Hiro had been pretty much backed into a corner with no possible way out.
So he told. He told him everything.
"Are you serious?!" Tadashi all but yelled once Hiro finished explaining himself. He couldn't blame him. He had just finished telling his older brother that he had been sneaking out at least three times a week for the past two months. If that weren't bad enough, he had been participating in activity that sent men twice is size and nearly three times his age behind bars, sometimes for years.
His little brother had been bot-fighting behind his back and raking in hefty profits to help pay for living expenses. Getting beat up and injured when the losers refused to accept defeat.
And it had gone completely over his head.
Tadashi pressed his face further against his palms, tugging at his hair with his fingers in pure aggravated fury. He occasionally let out a muffled howl or curse, while Hiro continued to sit on the seat, hanging his head in shame.
"You're so much smarter than this, Hiro," Tadashi growled, peering at Hiro through the gaps of his fingers. "Did you even think this far ahead? How long you were planning to keep this from me? Were you ever going to tell me?!"
He bit the inside of his cheek, taking in his words. He was smart, smart enough to graduate high school just six weeks ago. He could do complex algorithms in his head and solve equations at lightning speed, recite all the elements of periodic table and their characteristics by heart, and totally blow others away with his knowledge about the complete history of robotics.
But what he did was completely, without a doubt, the stupidest thing he'd ever done.
He didn't think about what would happen in the long run. How he could casually bring up the subject of his successful bot-fighting career to his overworked brother and not evoke a reaction like he displayed at the moment.
He hoped with all his heart that he could continue his escapades completely under the radar, supporting them with his earnings and alleviate some of his brother's worries.
He never saw this coming. Never would he predict that he would be discovered like this; completely vulnerable and hurt and aching all over and overwhelmed with guilt and emotion.
So it wasn't a complete surprise to him when he felt hot tears sink through his khakis.
Tadashi didn't notice, or pretended not to, continuing on with his heated lecture.
"Do you have any idea how this could've turned out?! You could've been arrested! Kidnapped! You could've been killed! Did you even think about that, huh?! You didn't! You think you're so untouchable and invincible that you don't even stop to think about the consequences! What do you think would happen if the police found you, huh?!" He didn't even wait for a reply, hissing menacingly, "They'd take you to jail, call the social worker, and put you in a foster home. Do you want that to happen, Hiro?! Do you want Mrs. Alaggio to split us up?! Huh?!"
Hiro didn't move. Didn't even bother to lift his head, even uttering a word to defend himself. Tadashi was right. Completely 100 percent honest to God dead on right. The last thing that Hiro wanted was to be taken away and get thrown into the system. It was one of the nightmares that he couldn't shake off quite so easily. He could live with the dreams where Tadashi shattered like glass or he'd get kidnapped by the Russian mafia. Because being taken out of Tadashi's care was something that could happen. Their social worker could knock on their door with a police officer in tow and a court order to remove Hiro from the premises.
He was jeopardizing everything they knew and were somewhat familiar and comfortable with with his own "selfish reasons".
But those reasons helped Tadashi pay the rent on time last week and bought Hiro some new shoes the other day.
Tadashi slapped his palm against the tub, sending an awkward echo throughout the bathroom before he stood and started to exit the bathroom.
"We're not done talking about this, just so you know."
Hiro jumped off the bowl, skidding against the tile while trying to regain balance for the second time that night. He shot out an arm, ignoring the stretch and tug of the bandages against his skin as he grabbed Tadashi's bicep. He could've sunk down the ground, completely worn down with guilt and exhaustion, but he started to blubber out,
"Tadashi, I'm so, so sorry! I never wanted any of this to happen, you have to believe me! I… I was just so sick of seeing you so tired all the time! You've done nothing but take care of us and I felt horrible just sitting around and doing nothing about it! I don't want to get put in a home! I don't want to leave here! I don't want Mrs. Alaggio to split us up! I'm so, so sorry! Just- Just don't hate me, okay?!"
There wasn't any sort of reply. The only noise that occupied the room was the sound of Hiro gasping and swallowing tears. He curled his fingers around his brother's arm, shaking it a little in hopes that would draw a reply out of him faster.
Tadashi deeply sighed, turning his head.
He was tired.
He was tired and overworked and anxious and scared.
His half-lidded eyes spoke the words that his mouth couldn't formulate at that moment. What needed to be said in place of another long speech. His hand reached up for Hiro's, peeling his bandaged fingers off his skin.
"Hiro, I don't hate you. I could never hate you."
Hiro let out a relieved whine, feeling a heavy weight falling off his chest. But it all came back too soon.
"But you're not sorry at all. You're just sorry because you got caught."
Tadashi shook his little brother off and turned on his heel, straight for his room. It wasn't until Hiro heard the door click and lock when he broke down, relying on the bathmat for company.