A dull school bell rang for what seemed like eternity. To most people it would have seemed like a signal for freedom, but for 11 year old Haru, it was only the beginning of his transfer from one cage to another. Rather than forcing him to wait at the park for an hour, his mother had finally caved in and agreed to pick him up straight from the school gates. He felt trapped in the metal confines of the car, like he was slowly running out of oxygen, but it was better for everyone this way. Maybe without his presence the park could expand and grow and something miraculously interesting might take place for once but he sincerely doubted it.
As the car door slammed behind him with a solid thud, his desperate mother tried to bridge communications with the mute-by-choice boy. Questions about his day hung in the air creating a stuffy atmosphere but he refused to acknowledge them. He refused to even look her way. Now she wanted to talk to him? Haru didn't like the negative emotion welling in his chest, the grudge he held against his parents. When it had first appeared, he'd tried everything to purge it from his system, from induced vomiting to self harm. Despite his efforts, it had anchored itself in his chest and it throbbed as a reminder of its existence every time his mother's voice touched his ears. Every time she tried to pretend to be a good parent.
Even an 11 year old boy could understand that something was wrong with this picture. It was like a picnic where everyone invited didn't really want to be there, they'd only come along to be polite. Big, fake smiles were held in place with staples and everyone pretended to get along for a while, until the father realised the picnic basket was missing. Most people went home. Some stayed and tried to make the best of it, but there was nothing they could do with nothing but a square blanket and no food.
In a normal family, at least one of your parents should be home every night. As a child you shouldn't have to fend for yourself. Those were the expectations of society. Haru just couldn't understand how this had been miscommunicated to his parents. Six nights out of seven he'd have to scrounge up his own meals, using the few ingredients in the almost bare kitchen cupboards. He knew there was a word for it. "Neglect." He also knew he'd never forgive his parents for their years of relentless neglect and for his lost childhood.
It was summer and it was hot. It had been roughly eight weeks since Haru had "mysteriously lost the ability to speak." His heart had been sealed off from the outside world and he far preferred it that way. Of course it meant that he had to awkwardly interact with hand gestures and rely on other people sometimes, but that was rare and it was a price worth paying for privacy.
It was Thursday afternoon and his mother was late picking him up - which shouldn't have come as a surprise to him. Even after everything he'd gone through to get away from it, Haru had decided to wait for her in the park. Seeing the playground equipment again after so long made his insides twist and turn and the knots were so tight he wondered if he'd even be able to digest dinner that night. He didn't know why he'd chosen to come back if that was the way it made him feel. He could only describe it as a sensation similar to magnetic attraction. On this particular day he'd felt a peculiar tug on his sleeve, urging him to go to the park, so he'd gone.
A few squeals of laughter met his ears and an irrational jealousy flared up within him. He wanted to be as carefree as those children but it seemed unattainable for him. It was as if there was a personal storm cloud stereotypically hovering just above the crown of his head. He felt the heavy jingling of loose change in his pockets and decided to cheer himself up. He joined the queue at the ice cream truck, falling in line behind a tall young man dressed in a sharp navy suit.
Haru studied the menu carefully, trying to figure out the best solution to his problem. As usual, no one was here to help him so he had to try and place an order without using his words. He decided it would be easiest to pick an ice cream within the first ten options on the menu, so he could indicate his choice with his fingers. He heard the man in front of him order a melon flavoured ice cream and he thought that sounded pretty good. But when his eyes searched the side of the ice cream truck, he concluded that trying to count to 17 would be too hard.
Before he'd prepared himself, he found himself staring at the pudgy faced ice cream man. A lump caught in his throat as he realised there were people waiting in line behind him. He didn't want to be a burden. He didn't want to hold them up. Scrambling, he pointed to the menu and then held up eight fingers, not even entirely sure of what he was ordering. The server seemed to understand and Haru noticed the sweat gathering at his chin and dimples when he smiled. As hot as it was outside, it was probably even hotter in the cramped truck. Haru felt a little bit of pity for him.
"That'll be ¥230 please," the server said, handing the already melting ice cream to Haru, who fumbled with his change in his spare hand. The server sighed. "Kid, this is only ¥180." Oh shit, oh no. What now? Did he have to give the ice cream back? Or should he just run? Haru froze in a panic, his heart pounding in his chest and his brain working in overdrive. He was so stupid. He should have counted his money properly first or at least studied the menu harder.
"Don't worry, I got it," a friendly voice chimed in. Haru looked up, surprised to see the man who'd been in front of him. Apparently he'd been loitering around for a moment longer, waiting to ask the staff for an extra napkin. He dumped several silver coins on the counter and winked at Haru with sparkling green eyes. In that moment, looking into those warm eyes, a tiny crack seemed to appear in Haru's protective cocoon.
When the young man turned to leave, Haru found his legs working to follow. Magnetic attraction. They'd only gotten a few metres when the man stopped so suddenly that Haru almost ran straight into him. He silently cursed himself, wondering what the hell he would have done if he'd smeared ice cream - more specifically coconut rough ice cream - across this stranger's back, ruining his expensive looking suit. He supposed he would have had to have broken his unofficial vow of silence to apologise.
"Are you following me?" the man asked as he whirled around, his tone light and vaguely amused. Haru naturally responded with a shrug. He wanted to say thank you but he didn't want to use his voice so he awkwardly gestured to his ice cream and nodded his head slightly. The man seemed to understand well enough, the smile not wavering from his face as he replied, "Any time."
Relief washed over Haru like a gentle wave lapping at the shore, slowly spreading throughout his body. Whenever his parents bought him anything, they always made a big fuss about how selfish and ungrateful he was and he hated to think he'd be indebted to a stranger. This small notion of kindness wasn't enough to make up for his parents, but it somehow managed to cheer him up more than the ice cream itself.
Haru looked up again, suddenly realising the man's eyes were on him and he was tapping his chin thoughtfully. Haru's face flared red with embarrassment and he averted his gaze to his feet once more, tentatively taking a lick of his ice cream. He could feel the man's eyes boring holes into him even if that wasn't his intention. Haru had always hated being watched and however alluring he found those green eyes, they were no exception. He shuffled his feet uncomfortably and waited in silence because there was nothing else he could do.
"I don't get it..." the man said slowly, his tone thoughtful as if he was speaking his thoughts aloud. "You're not deaf, are you?" Haru had been asked that before so he wasn't surprised in the least. He shook his head vigorously in response. "Is it anxiety?" A shrug of his shoulders this time. Who could be sure what he was feeling? "Ah...are you mute?" That was a tricky one since it carried inference to the physical condition more than selective muteness. Haru simply shrugged again and bit into his ice cream, grimacing slightly due to the cold assaulting his teeth.
"Well," the man began, picking his feet up again. He paused and gestured that Haru walk alongside him. "I'm Makoto," he introduced himself. "I'm not sure what kids do for introductions these days, but uh... I'm 19 years old and I'm studying Law at university. Nice to meet you."
Haru was in awe. He'd never known anyone who went to university before and he was sure Makoto had to be some kind of genius to be studying Law. He couldn't even begin to comprehend how complex and difficult it must have been. He blindly followed Makoto, who lead him to a rickety wooden park bench. There wasn't much room on the old bench and it groaned at the slightest movement. Haru found his slender leg pressed against Makoto's and he stuffed his face with his ice cream to distract himself. The only line he was repeating in his head was "Wow, I'm sitting next to a genius."
They'd both hurried to finish their ice creams, racing against the sweltering heat. Although, having said that, since the sun had started to sink it was slowly getting cooler. The afternoon was wearing on, the tell-tale signs being the crimson streaks in the sky and golden highlights on the fluffy clouds, and the disappearance of children from the park. Well, that was an awful way to put it. Parents were coming in drips and drabs to collect their kids and go home for dinner or whatever it was families did.
Makoto must have followed his gaze to the departing children, or else he was thinking along an eerily similar line because he asked, "Is someone coming to pick you up soon?" Haru shrugged honestly, having no idea how long his mother would be. An uneasy expression settled across Makoto's face. Haru knew it was rude to stare, especially at someone older than you, but he seized the opportunity while Makoto seemed lost in thought.
His eyes traced the curves of Makoto's features closely. His skin was flawless and his jaw line was sharp and his chin angular. His facial features seemed elegant and defined, but Haru noticed the patchy stubble scattered around his chin. It looked like Makoto was still getting used to shaving his face. He knew it would feel scratchy but apart from that Haru wondered what it would feel like to touch it. He wondered what shaving felt like and he wondered how often you had to do it. He had no idea when he'd have to start shaving but he hoped it wasn't any time soon. It seemed like a pain.
"Haruka!" a shrill voice pierced the air, nearly piercing Haru's ear drums. His head whipped back and forth as he searched for the source of the screech. Seemingly materialising out of thin air, his mother seized his forearm in a vice-like grip, hauling him to his feet as effortlessly as if he were a ragdoll. "What the fuck do you think you're doing?" she demanded, her face close to his and her breath hot against his cheeks. "You little piece of shit! I thought you'd be waiting at school. I had no idea where you were. No fucking idea!"
Pinpricks of guilt began to eat at Haru as his mother publically berated him. More than that though, his small ears turned pink with embarrassment as he stole a glance at Makoto, who looked entirely taken aback by his mother's violent verbal outburst. There was a word for this too but it escaped him right now.
In a true demonstration of her double sided nature, his mother turned to Makoto, an apologetic smile on her face. "I'm terribly sorry if my son has been bothering you," she said, her voice taking on that sickly sweet tone she used on special occasions like this one. Haru thought she always overdid it and she was as transparent as a glass bottle.
"I-it's no problem at all," Makoto replied, visibly flustered by the sudden involvement in this drama. "Really, please don't get mad at him. He wasn't bothering me at all," he added in a rush, shooting Haru a sympathetic glance. Haru quickly looked away, avoiding eye contact. He needed his cocoon to be strong to get through this.
"Well, we'll just be going now," his mother said in farewell, the tension highly evident in her tone. She dragged Haru by the arm, her fingernails digging into his skin so hard that he wondered if he might bleed. He glanced back over his shoulder at Makoto, who stared back at him in plain bewilderment. As soon as Haru's arm was released, an open hand cracked across his face like a whip, bringing his attention back to what was in front of him.
"How many fucking times do I have to tell you..." His mother launched into another one of her pedantic lectures but his mind was suddenly preoccupied. He'd remembered that word. "Abuse."