Breathe

by Sandfire Kat

Loss is defined as the sensation of grief one feels when they have lost something or someone of great value. But grief can mutate and transform into something deadly, something much more toxic. It can grow in size and swallow someone whole, changing them from the person they once were into someone of a polar body. How can you help someone move on when they don't even want to live?

2. Chapter 2

It was dark. The boy, rendered prostrate, couldn't see a single inch in front of his face, left staring out into pitch blackness. A heaviness hung over the boy, a sore kind of sensation that pressed down uncomfortably in every direction, seeming to not leave any space to breathe as the child took in irregular, shallow huffs. He grimaced deeply, attempting to move but coming up useless as he couldn't manage the simple task. He felt as if he were hunched into the ground, a heavy burden slung over his back that prevented him from pushing himself back up to his feet. A small groan escaped Hiro's throat, the teenager struggling to move or breathe correctly, finding that the longer he crouched against the floor, the harder the ideas seemed to get.

There was a dull crackling noise— one that seemed to be coming from the back of the teenager's mind rather than somewhere in the blackness around him. The fuzzy snaps and pops caused the boy to become acutely aware of the pounding that was taking place in his head, the boy ducking his chin down close to his chest as he grimaced once more, another small noise of discomfort worming out from his closed mouth. Confusion was alive in every movement the boy struggled to manage, those that he did coming across slow and gradual, as if he were moving through some kind of syrup. Fuzziness clouded his senses, and for a moment all that existed was the uncomfortable position and the sensation that it brought, the boy left hopeless against the dark around him as he hung his head.

"…Hiro…!"

The boy stiffened at the sudden appearance of another voice, his eyes, which had previously been closed, snapping open at the sound of his name. Painfully, slowly, Hiro struggled to move his head in order to look up, his eyes dilating into panicked slits as his fingernails dug into the ground. His breath caught in the middle of his throat, the boy floundering for any sort of movement now as he tried to push against whatever kind of force was holding him down. His heartbeat picked up instantly, his body rushing with heat that only seemed to grow sharper against his struggles.

Again, the shout echoed its way over, louder than it had been before. "…Hiro!" His name was called yet again, and the boy in question gasped shallowly at the tone of voice, his chest aching in a searing way as he strained to see through the dimness around him. It was nearly impossible to do so though, the teenager aching with the frustration of his apparent immobility. He leaned forward, reaching out for the voice again, to try and locate where it was coming from— who it was coming from. For surely it couldn't be…

As the voice increased in volume, so did the fuzzy haze of noise around Hiro, the snapping and slight crackling noises rising into a soft roar on all sides of his hunched figure. As Hiro tried to move up from the ground, the rush of hot adrenaline from hearing the shout of his name didn't fade away, rather persisting only to get progressively worse as grew into a prickling, stinging sensation. The scenery around him changed, the pitch blackness around him growing ever so lighter, with a torrid kind of orange glow. The air around him grew hotter, denser and blacker against the orange light around him. And quickly, Hiro's ragged, uneven breathing hitched as horror gripped the young boy's heart in piercingly-cold claws.

Realization dawned on the teenager as the boy began to fall into panic, his body breaking into fits of tremors as he gasped in and out sharply. He was on the floor of the SFIT Showcase, large flames surrounding him and licking at every inch of the large building. Smoke hung thick in the air, and as Hiro attempted to take in another gasp he immediately choked, doubling over in a hacking cough instead. The roar of the fire was ear-splitting, and Hiro winced deeply as the window nearest to him shattered from the sheer amount of heat, glass raining down to the floor and peppering over him in a painful fashion.

The fourteen-year-old struggled to get up to his feet. He had to run; he had to make it out before the entire building collapsed on itself. But his hands were rooted to the floor as the flames grew nearer, catching light on his jacket and crawling up his arm in rapid succession. He couldn't move a single muscle; every time he tried doing so only caused the heat around him to increase tenfold, the flames spreading with quicker accuracy and deadliness. The boy gasped in the smoke rapidly, falling into the trap of hyperventilation that was only disrupted by hoarse series of coughs. He was going to burn. He was going to die. He was going to—

"…Hiro!"

The boy jerked at the call again, his heart aching as his head managed to snap up in response. He struggled to take in enough air to call back, his chest constricting on itself in his efforts. "T-" He broke off, unable to finish his sentence as he ducked down in order to gag on the smoke that was filling up his lungs. He couldn't get in enough air get out a single syllable. But horror and pain made quick work in filling him to the brim, and the teenager's voice broke in sheer desperation. He knew that voice. He knew it like the back of his hand. And yet he couldn't speak, couldn't move, couldn't even call out to it. "Ta-"

The door on the far end of the room burst open, Hiro's streaming eyes barely able to make out the coherent sight of what was in front of him. But sure enough, though far away and dim through the smoke, Hiro yelled out, the noise that ripped from his throat something akin to a sob as he staggered in holding himself up. Tadashi stood in the doorway near the other end of the room, the older brother's eyes alight with worry and fear as his eyes drilled immediately to where Hiro was crouched. Again, there came the shout, the achingly familiar voice quite literally stabbing through the younger. "Hiro!"

Finally, voice raw from the amount of smoke that was being inhaled, Hiro managed to force the yell out of his throat. "Tadashi!" he screamed, his shoulders shaking up and down unevenly as his eyes blurred even more at the sight of his older brother. Tadashi started running, sprinting towards his baby brother faster than seemed possible, shouting his name over and over like it was some kind of mantra, like it would help in some way. "Hiro!" Tadashi yelled, skirting around as much of the flames as he could as he tried to rush for the younger child. "Hiro— Hiro hold on!" he screamed. "I've got you! Just—"

Hiro shook his head, holding back yet another gag as he tried to jerk forward, or at least lift up his arm in a signal to stop. "No, you—" He broke off, grimacing briefly but forcing himself to go on. "Tadashi, turn back…" The boy just barely managed the full sentence, his raw throat not allowing his voice to rise over anything more than a mere rasp by now. His older brother continued to run for him, and Hiro's arms started to shake, the boy slouching slightly as he struggled to get out a shout loud enough. "Tadashi, you have to…—" The floor underneath Hiro started to shake, and he leaned forward slightly, struggling to raise his voice so that he could be heard over the flames. "You have to…" He winced. "You're going to…" He couldn't finish a single thought.

Tadashi was nearly reaching him now. Hiro's vision, unfocused by the smoke and blurred over by watering tears, centered on the image of his older brother. He was soot-streaked, his eyes bright red from the irritation brought on by the fire, but he was exactly like Hiro had remembered him to be. There was a bright smile on his face despite that gruesome scene surrounding them, and his eyes were softened along with their worry and panic as they trained themselves on him. Once the elder started to near him, he reached out for Hiro, as if to run forward and scoop him up into his arms. Hiro made a small noise in the back of his throat, forcing his right arm into motion as the young boy started to lift it up, moving through the thick sensation of syrup as he forcibly yanked his arm off the floor to stretch towards his bother. He leaned forward as much as he could, his joints aching as he tried to reach Tadashi. If he could just reach him…if he could just get up from the floor with Tadashi…

But as soon as Tadashi's fingertips grazed Hiro's own, as soon as Hiro released a sobbing laugh of relief, and as soon as Tadashi started to stoop down in order to gather him off of the ground, there was the explosion. It ripped its way through the very universe, the walls of the building splitting apart as glass and debris erupted from every corner of the Showcase. Tadashi's eyes met Hiro's for the briefest of moments, the older brother's eyes widening just a fraction of a size as he looked down at the younger. Hiro's mouth stretched open, a silent scream of mortification coming from the boy as he watched Tadashi being flung backwards, knocked off of his feet and thrown back into the pit of the flames.

His older brother was gone in an instant, the smoke rushing forward to blind Hiro in blackness once more as the teenager slipped, falling back down against the ground and yelling sharply as the flames that had previously been skirting around him rushed in, crawling over his small figure and catching light on his clothes. But the shouts that came from the boy were void of the sensation, the child only managing screams of incoherent grief, limp against the ground and rendered of movement once again as he burned in the college Showcase, calling out desperately. "Tadashi!" he screamed into the floor, the blasts of explosions ripping through his ears as he shouted. "Tadashi, come back! Help me! Tadashi…! …Tadashi….!"

Tadashi!

Hiro woke up in a spasm, the boy's eyes snapping open wide as he gasped shallowly. The teenager's brain was haywire, confused and racing as he painstakingly became aware of his surroundings and what was going on. And when the boy realized what had happened, that it was all just a nightmare, he heaved shaky sighs in and out, struggling to get his breathing back under control. He lifted up shaking hands to press the heels of his palms against his eyes, squeezing them shut as tight as he could as he swallowed back a lump in his throat. He lay in bed unmoving for many minutes as he struggled to reign himself back in, frustration clawing at the back of his throat as his eyes pricked and burned. He ducked his head down close to his chest, the boy's small form shaking as small sobs escaped from under his breath.

The nightmare was like a cobweb he couldn't clear in the back of his head, and as the boy lowered his arms, his eyes automatically strayed over to Tadashi's bed, now predictably empty. The teenager's face encompassed obscene amounts of grief as he stared dismally at the neatly-folded blankets and perfectly-arranged pillows that were across from him. His vision blurred as he stared at the bed, and he raised his arm once more to try and brush away any sort of water that might be forming before it could track their way down his face. …It wasn't fair. It wasn't. None of this was. The thought didn't help in his effort to stave away the tears building behind his eyelids. So he shook his head quickly, struggling to force himself to push aside the emotions before they could further any more than they already had.

Morning sunlight streamed its way through the blinds over his windows, but the prospect of a bright-looking day did nothing for the teenager. Hiro turned and curled up on his side, putting his back to the painful sight that was on the other side of the room as he faced away from Tadashi's half. Instead he stared bleakly at his desk, silent and passive for what felt like an age as his face fell further and further. And, after a total of about fifteen minutes of lying still on his side, Hiro perked slightly, raising his head off of his pillow to look at the things on his desk more accurately. And sure enough, the thing was still lying there.

The boy shuffled over to the edge of his bed, turning and placing his feet on the ground in order to stand up. His head spun briefly at the sudden change, and he leaned over to grab the edge of his desk briefly to wait out the small dizzy spell. There was a dull headache that throbbed in the center of his eyes, evoking a reaction of pain as the young boy cringed a little bit. But he shook this off as best he could as well, a frown on his face as he skirted around his computer chair. Among the books and papers that were strewn over his workstation a little haphazardly, there was a small envelope, laying neat and orderly among the mess around it. The crest was familiar to Hiro, all too familiar as he reached down to pick it up gingerly. It was the recommendation letter he had received to get into Tadashi's college. The one he had gotten in return for his demonstration of his Microbots. The boy locked his jaw backwards at the reminder, staring down at the thing as he turned it over repeatedly in his hands.

He swallowed thickly, the lump returning once again as he stood stock-still, his gaze slowly starting to smolder and burn as his grip got a little tighter on the paper. His hands began to shake, breaking out into tremors as the crest stared straight back at him. How many times had he dreamed about the fire? How many times had he been forced to remember Tadashi's death? How many times had he stared at his brother's things and how many times had he wished that he could come back? The shaking in Hiro's hands grew more violent with each thought, and the envelope's edges started to cave in now as he clenched his hands into tight fists. He thought of that way that Tadashi had helped him through his presentation of his Microbots. He thought of how Tadashi had grinned at him, the way he had said: 'Welcome to Nerd School.' He thought of that way that Tadashi had started to run into the burning school building, how Hiro had tried to hold him back, had tried to stop him. He'd tried to stop him. He'd tried. But he didn't try hard enough. And now because of the Showcase…because of the fire…because of this stupid college…

Before he could even register what he was doing, Hiro was ripping the envelope. In half, into fours, into eights, into twelfths and sixteenths, twentieths; he ripped it over and over until he couldn't rip it into any more pieces. The letter now reduced to the smallest scraps of paper possible, which littered the ground in heaps. Hiro was breathing heavily, the boy slowly letting his arms fall to his sides and staggering slightly as he leaned against the wooden desk, his face crestfallen as he looked down at the mess. In the back of his mind, he knew he should probably clean it all up before Aunt Cass saw. But as the thought occurred, and even as the thought registered, Hiro made no move to crouch down to the ground. He merely stared at the mass of paper, feeling absolutely nothing. Not remorse. Not vengeance. Not satisfaction. Not happiness. Just….nothing.

He stood for a few minutes, unmoving as he stared down at the mess, as if it were something foreign to him. But then he gave a slow sigh out through the mouth, turning and looking over to his bed, which was only left only slightly rumpled since the boy hadn't even bothered to cover up last night. He hadn't even changed out of his other clothes— he was still wearing the same outfit that he had journeyed downtown with last night. Unable to remember falling asleep was odd, considering that for the boy sleep was oftentimes hard to come by now. Hiro had adopted somewhat of a makeshift form of insomnia after the night of the fire; although with the dream that he'd had, the boy would have much rather preferred staying awake over falling asleep.

He paced back to his bed, catching sight of the thing that he had looked over until now— the thing that he had almost forgotten was there in the first place. Glancing over to the stairs and pausing in order to listen, Hiro tried to catch wind of whether or not Aunt Cass was up yet. Usually it was hard to tell, especially when he knew that Cass had the habit of staying especially quiet whenever she was under the impression that Hiro was finally sleeping. He didn't hear any noises though, such as the small pattering of footsteps or the subtle creak of any floorboards. So Hiro turned back, reaching over and picking up the forgotten item with a small flip of his stomach.

He hadn't meant to drink whatever Redhead had given him— the boy distinctly remembered coming up with a plan on the way home to throw it away in a manner that wouldn't alert Aunt Cass to anything suspicious. Because certainly the last thing that Aunt Cass needed was to be worrying over something like this with him, coupled with everything else that was probably already on her mind. Once he had started to take minimal sips of the alcohol, the plan had then changed to just that bare minimum— he was going to at least try it and then he would revert to Plan A and sneak it out the back. When had it gotten so far away from him that he had finished the entire bottle of liquor? He turned, looking down at his sheets just to make sure that he hadn't just spilled the contents somewhere, which led to the bottle being so empty. But no; there wasn't a single drop to be spared anywhere. This must be the reason for the headache that had settled itself in the front center of his brain.

He gave out another shaking sigh, reaching up to rub at his forehead as he stared down at the empty glass in his hand. His thoughts flashed back to what the girl had said as she literally threw the drink his way, the coy sort of smile that she flashed to him before just taking her leave. It had been so random, so weird. Why hadn't he just left the drink there? 'Go ahead and give it a try— you might actually offer a smile or two.' …It had worked. Short-term at least; usually the boy formed the habit of staying awake all night, on his side as he stared over at Tadashi's empty bed. He'd gone days without sleep recently, and last night had been one of the first nights where he had actually slept uninterrupted until morning. The nightmare persisted to linger in the back of his mind like a shadow, but before that, when he had first started to delve into the drink, his mind had been put to rest, and he had been able to tear his thoughts away from his brother— something that he hadn't had the ability to do at all recently.

…Had he just needed more of the drink to drown out the dreams as well?

The thought came with a chilling feeling, the boy's grip on the glass in his hands tightening ever so slightly. His eyes flickered over to the other side of the room, to Tadashi's things. A lump formed back in his throat like a hard knot, and the young boy's mind started to kick into gear. He looked back down at the bottle, but before he could draw any kind of conclusion, his heart immediately dropped as he became aware of slow footsteps coming up the stairs. Freezing briefly, Hiro spun around, eyes wide as they immediately took to darting around the room for a spot to hide the evidence. They landed on his dresser and before he could hesitate any longer, the boy darted over, ripping out one of the cabinets and hurriedly stuffing away the bottle of alcohol under the mass of folded clothes, disrupting whatever kind of order there was inside previously.

He patted down the clothing rapidly so that the thing would remain out of sight, slamming the drawer shut just a millisecond before Aunt Cass came into view. Expectedly, she was armed with breakfast, like she has been every day since the night of the fire. She must have been taking special care to be quiet, because Hiro hadn't even heard the slightest movement from the kitchen. His aunt took care in stepping lightly, her eyes trained down on her feet as if she were making sure that she didn't slip up and trip. But she perked in surprise as she saw Hiro up already, her eyes widening briefly as the baker stopped short. Hiro saw that she was carrying an enormous waffle, nearly the size of the entire plate she had in her hands. Predictably, the idea of food did nothing but cause the boy's stomach to clench in on itself. But he tried not to show either the disgust he felt for the meal or the guilt at his hiding things from Cass, wiping his face of any evidence that could incriminate him in any way.

"Hiro!" Aunt Cass said, finishing walking up the steps now as she came to a stop a few feet away from him. "I didn't think that you would be up yet." Nowadays, the boy had taken to staying in bed, prolonging the movements of the day as he holed away. That or he would only get up enough to change clothes and then go to sit on his windowsill or in his chair. But Aunt Cass wasn't indicating those instances, it turned out. "You were gone so late last night— I was going to wait for you, but you never came home." There was a beat of silence as the pair stared at one another, and when Hiro didn't make any kind of move to reply to her, she cleared her throat, offering him a small smile. "Did you…did you have fun last night? I want to hear all about it!"

The fourteen-year-old's stomach sank to his feet as his Aunt smiled widely, the woman looking excited over the prospect of hearing the boy launch into a tale about video games or college or parks or walks. His eyes briefly flashed over to the drawer in which he had shoved the bottle of liquor in, and he inhaled quickly, straightening as he looked back at Cass, forcing his lips to curl upwards in what he hoped was a genuine-looking smile. "Um— yeah, yeah it was great," he started, feeling awful as the lies started to slip out from his mouth. And the feeling only worsened as Aunt Cass' grin got bigger and bigger, the woman growing more optimistic as he went on, though he struggled to make it as short as he possibly could. "I met up with them and then we went to…" He grasped for a name. "Honey's house. We played some games and had dinner. It wasn't much….but…." He trailed off, clearing his throat and offering a small shrug.

"That sounds great, honey!" Aunt Cass beamed, thrilled at the prospects — however minimal — that Hiro had offered. "What did you have for dinner?" Hiro fought the urge to wince away as questions started to rain down quicker than he could fathom. "What games did you play? Did you and the others talk about anything? I'm so glad that you're hanging out with them again; they were always so concerned when they came by to see you before! Oh, this is just so great!" Aunt Cass turned, starting to set the plate of food down on the desk. Hiro stiffened as she started to turn, realizing that the mess he had left after ripping up the letter was still all over the floor.

Quickly, Hiro jerked forward to stand in between her and the shredded paper, grinning a little awkwardly now as she pulled back slightly. But before she could say anything, he dashed forward, grabbing the plate from her and holding it close to himself, as if he were suddenly eager to eat. "Yeah, it's great," he replied, forcing out a quick bubble of laughter as he shifted to ensure that Cass wouldn't see the mess. "Actually, I was thinking I could go back out with them again tonight. ….Fred said something about that movie you mentioned before. We might go out and see it. And have dinner; they seemed really excited about it." Glancing over his guardian and taking a calculated move, he added on: "But I told them you might want me to stay home after I came home so late before, so…" He trailed off, leaving room for the objection that would no doubt come.

"Oh no, no no no no no," she said in a rush, waving him off in a dismissal. "No, you don't have to stay here tonight. If you want to go out to eat and hang out with your friends then that's perfectly okay. Whatever makes you happy, honey, that's perfectly fine with me. Whatever you want." She smiled, clasping her hands together warmly at the sight of her nephew, as if he had suddenly changed into someone much different. But then she paused, blinking as she suddenly started to look him up and down. "…You're wearing the same clothes as you were yesterday?" she asked, tilting her head to the side a little bit.

Hiro looked down quickly, as if he had just realized this himself. "…I must have not changed last night," he said slowly, blinking. "I came back really late last night, so I just…fell asleep in them. I'll change real quick and then I can leave for Wasabi's house. He wanted to show me around before we left….so…."

Aunt Cass blinked, her face falling somewhat. "You're leaving already?" she asked.

"Yeah," Hiro said, a little too quickly. Wincing inwardly, he backtracked. "I mean…yes, yeah I'm gonna try and get to Wasabi's before lunch. He said that he'd make me something. He's uh…he's trying out some new recipes. He cooks, and he wanted me to judge some new stuff. So…" The lies were stringing out of Hiro's mouth as if he wasn't in control of them, more and more accumulating and weighing down on his conscience. He shifted his weight from side to side; why couldn't Cass just leave and let it all lie? The sudden thought — meaner than what the boy usually let cross his mind — was a little disconcerting. But he brushed it aside quickly; he just wanted to be able to leave, that was all. So he shook his head to clear it, coughing briefly before adding on: "I'll get back earlier tonight. I promise."

"Oh…" Cass mumbled, looking at her nephew carefully for a moment. But then she gave a quick nod, brightening at the vow as she smiled. "Okay! I'll see you later then; I'm pretty sure we still have some ice cream in the freezer! Maybe when you get home we can crack it open and have some!" Hiro opened his mouth to reply, but she started up again before he could. "Hey I've got an idea— how about tomorrow night we do something to celebrate? I can make some of your favorite hot wings! You know, the kind that makes your face all numb?" She made a funny face as if to demonstrate this, and Hiro tried to offer yet another forced grin at the action. "We could rent a movie! …Maybe we could start thinking more about registering you for college?" She hesitated briefly before asking this part, and Hiro could see the small, nervous flash that went through her eyes.

Hiro cringed mentally, but on the outside all he did was offer another nervous smile. "Sure. Maybe."

It seemed to be enough for Cass though. The woman gushed; if Hiro didn't know her any better, he would have thought that her eyes were slightly more watery than they normally were as she smiled at him. But before he could try to make sure, she leaned over, wrapping him into a tight hug as she held him close, taking care not to disrupt the plate of food that was still in Hiro's hands. While any other time, the boy would have felt at least a little touched by the embrace, now all he did was stay still, face falling now as he didn't have to force any more smiles. His expression grew sad as he stared over Cass' shoulder to the opposite wall, his head ducking slightly as his shoulders slumped. The facade of happiness and contentment that he put on while talking with Cass slipped faster than he had managed to draw it together in the first place.

He couldn't take this. He didn't want to stand here and lie to Aunt Cass. But he didn't want to just stay here and mope either. He wanted the way that things used to be, he wanted the way that things had been before. He wanted to be happy again, he wanted to get this heavy weight off of him. He wanted Tadashi. The thought caused his eyes to water once more, and he quickly had to swallow everything back as Aunt Cass started to pull back, the boy knowing that if the guardian caught sight of the change, she would only ask more questions. By now every inch of him wanted to just get out of the house— to leave and walk and walk and walk away. Downtown, uptown, anywhere other than here. Just as long as he could get out.

Aunt Cass leaned down and planted a small kiss on his cheek, reaching up to draw a hand lovingly through his hair. She said a few more things, but Hiro wasn't really paying attention, only waiting and watching as the woman gradually turned and went back downstairs. She had tried to offer a ride to Wasabi's house, but Hiro had declined it just like he had last night. But if the woman thought such a thing was shifty, she didn't point it out before heading down to the cafe. It would open soon, and she had to do the last few touches to the place before letting the public inside.

Once she left, Hiro turned around to open his drawers again. He pointedly looked away from where he had hidden the bottle of alcohol, not even glancing over in its direction as he chose out a new outfit to wear. It wasn't really on his list of priorities, but if Aunt Cass glimpsed him coming downstairs in the same attire, she would probably stop him again. So he picked out jeans and a random shirt, keeping his same hoodie on. He thought of bending down to get his other jacket that he had thrown underneath his bed after the night of the fire. It was more comfortable, and it was the thing that he usually wore when he went outside. But as the memory of his dream resurfaced again as he changed, he knew that the last thing he wanted was to put on that specific coat. Besides— his hoodie still had in its front pocket Megabot and the rest of the money that he had won last night and decided to keep.

The boy turned and went down the sets of stairs, skirting around the chairs of the cafe and making his way for the door. Of course he was stopped short by Aunt Cass, the woman reaching out and turning him back around to smile and inform him how glad she was for about the millionth time. She said something about the hot wings again and asked Hiro to tell her how the movie went. Hiro mumbled out what he hoped were good enough responses, staring through his Aunt and quite literally past her as he simply waited for her to finish. And she did, with yet another loving smile and yet another chirp of: "Last hug!" in which she pulled him close to her and kissed the crown of his head again. She didn't ask if he had eaten his waffle and she didn't ask what time exactly he would be home. She just watched her nephew duck out of her arms, the incessant smile remaining on her face as she watched Hiro walk away from the cafe, his hands slipping into the front of his hoodie as he made for what she could only assume was the direction to Wasabi's house. She didn't actually know where the young man lived.

But then again, neither did Hiro.

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He had waited all day. After retracing his steps from last night, Hiro had bided his time for as long as he could, lingering in the alley backlot and simply watching. He'd never been to places like these — places that hosted bot fights — during the day. Predictably, it was void of pretty much anyone. Times were strictly regulated thanks to the possibility of the police showing up, which led to a rather vacant space at noon. Usually bot fights started once the sun went down and the streetlights flickered to life, so the boy took a seat in the one of the corners of the passageway, drawing his legs up to his chest and balancing his chin on the tops of his knees as he sat.

The boy's face was drawn and almost haunted as he leaned against the brick wall, the scenes of his dream replaying in the back of his eyes like a video that couldn't end. The child continuously had to shake his head free of the images, his stomach curling and causing him to feel ill as he thought of Tadashi's panicked face, the way that Hiro hadn't been able to get to his feet to run or to help in any way, the way that as soon as he had started to reach for his older brother they had been forced apart. And the blast…it had sounded just like the one from before, the explosion that had literally ripped his older brother away from him. The thought caused his heart to ache, his chest feeling as though someone were carving through it with a dull knife.

Why hadn't he tried harder to stop Tadashi? Why hadn't he grabbed his brother's arm in a tight vice, clung to his wrist and refused to let go of him? His brother might have decided to go anyway, but with the extra weight that Hiro could have added, there might have been a chance that he wouldn't have made it inside before the explosion. There was a chance that Tadashi could have lived. That he could still be here with him and not somewhere else where Hiro couldn't follow. The teenager grimaced deeply, as if the ideas caused him physical pain, ducking down so that his forehead was plastered to his knees instead. He closed his eyes tightly, curling closer to himself and trying to force his mind away from the incessant thoughts. But they had been occurring for far too long, and after the recent nightmare that the boy had experienced, getting rid of them was like trying to stop it from raining when was cloudy outside.

So he did his best to try and wait it all out. Hiro watched for the sun to go down, passing the hours by merely sitting and staring down at the ground, his back aching from being hunched over and his throat slowly becoming raw from swallowing thickly. It passed quickly enough— Hiro had started to become quite skilled at losing track of time nowadays. It occurred to the fourteen-year-old that had he stayed at home and then departed for downtown like he had yesterday, he would be doing the same thing: just sitting in one spot and staring. At least this way, he didn't worry Aunt Cass. Quite the opposite now, considering the woman was under the impression that he was out with friends now. She was over the moon with her supposed knowledge that her nephew was getting better, or at least starting to move past Tadashi's death.

Hiro was very gifted at lying. He could lock eyes with someone, smile widely, and lie through his teeth. After all, part of the reason that he'd gotten so much money first starting out at bot fights was making it seem like he was some stupid kid way out of his depth, only to really bring truth into the situation once the stakes were high enough for profit. But he didn't like doing it to Aunt Cass. He'd never made a habit out of it before, but now it seemed like it was all he could manage. It had started out as almost simple things. White lies that were answers such as: "Yeah, I'm fine." or "Sure, I'll have something to eat." or "No, I slept well." And now it was just starting to get gradually more out of hand. It didn't really help his morale to know that it was just getting worse. He tried to tell himself that it'd work out eventually. After all, the only reason he was out here was attempting to distract himself, and ultimately for the effort of fixing the things that were in shambles around him. So what if it wasn't along the line of what he'd said in being with friends? When things worked out, it didn't really matter how they got there, after all.

Once the sun set down below the horizon, and once the sounds of traffic out in the main street dwindled down, the crowd started to roll in. Hiro kept to his corner, his knees drawing tighter into his chest as he watched every person that filed in. Those that caught his eye, and those who apparently could connect him to his previous visits, had mixed reactions to his being there. Some grinned and gestured over his way. Others weren't so excited at the prospect of him, looking disappointed or sullen as they shot glares his way. No doubt their hopes of winning with their robots were dashed at the sight of the small kid. But he ignored the reactions to his presence— that wasn't why he was here.

Gradually the backlot, which had been so empty when Hiro had first arrived, filled itself to the brim. People started to gather around in their customary circle near the center of the clearing, and those who had reserved for fights held their fighting robots close to themselves with an eagerness that Hiro had once experienced as well, what seemed like a long time ago. The boy made no move to get up and join as people started to thrum with conversation and pre-bets for what was to conspire. He didn't chime in with his own opinion on who might win tonight, and he didn't even get up to his feet to even sidle a teeny bit closer. In fact, as the first pair of bot fighters took their place sitting on either sides of the circle, Hiro was looking in any other possible direction.

The boy's eyes were narrowed slightly as they skimmed through the crowd gathered, looking almost confused as his head tilted from side to side, stretching his neck awkwardly as he peered around those standing in front of him. He looked from wall to wall, feeling a small sense of frustration starting to curl in his stomach as time stretched on. The first bot fight came to a close— the winner being someone who went on to win three other bot fights before being finally beaten. And all the while Hiro's eyes flickered back and forth, drilling through the mass of people to scour the alley from corner to corner.

He was starting to think that his day was wasted. That being here was stupid and he had just spent so long waiting for absolutely nothing. The boy was getting ready to scream in frustration, to tear out his hair over the entire situation surrounding him. But then his eyes finally caught onto the person he was looking for, the boy freezing immediately as recognition caused his joints to lock together tightly. It was the girl from before— the one that had stopped him on his way back home last night. She was with the same group of people she had been with previously, her eyes trained over in the direction of the bot fights that were taking place. Her mouth moved every so often as she talked with her friends that were standing around her, but she didn't seem to notice if she realized that Hiro was looking her way. And the boy certainly did have his gaze narrowed in on her fixedly.

Surprisingly, after coming all this way in order for this sole purpose, Hiro remained where he was for a moment or two, his eyes slightly widened as he looked down at himself. Moving his arm and reaching into the front pocket of his sweatshirt, Hiro felt the two things that were still stowed inside— Megabot and the money he'd gotten yesterday. He bit his lower lip, hesitating briefly as he remained where he was. He didn't know what kept him there, or what kept him from leaping up to his feet immediately at the sight of the person he had been searching for. He bit down on his lower lip, an uncomfortable expression coming over his features as he agonized where he sat. But he shook his head firmly. It wasn't like he was doing anything bad— he was trying to help things. He wasn't hurting anybody and he certainly wasn't causing any kind of feud or dispute. It was perfectly fine; all of it was.

So after the brief pause, Hiro pushed himself up to his feet. Predictably, his joints protested, his bones squeezing tightly in pain as the boy started to move after being crouched down for so long. But he brushed off the slight discomfort, only giving a soft wince every so often as he sidled around those whose attention was trained firmly on the bot fights in the center of the chaos. He clasped his hands together tightly underneath the cover of his jacket, and he swallowed uncomfortably as he got closer to where the Redhead was loitering. Again, he told himself that it was fine. That nothing was wrong. He wasn't hurting anyone— not in the slightest. It was all fine.

The girl with the tattoo under her eye was laughing at something one of her friends had said, turning over with a wide smirk to look back at the person who had presumably spoken. But as she turned in order to glance back at them, she was cut short as her gaze caught onto Hiro, who was a few mere feet away from her now. She perked as her eyes locked with his own, and Hiro drew himself up quickly at the contact. There was a small beat of silence in the group, the friends that were lingering around Redhead seeming a tad confused at the sight of the young teenager. Redhead, however, didn't even look a tad bit surprised at his appearance.

She grinned a little crookedly, raising her eyebrows. "Hey— Grumpy's back," she laughed. "I was wondering if you'd be here tonight." There was a brief pause, the girl waiting for Hiro to speak, but when the boy started to open his mouth, whatever he had to say was drowned out as the crowd surrounding the ring gave out screams of applause in reaction to something that must have happened during the fight. The boy stiffened with surprise at the sudden roar, but Redhead just grinned wider. "I don't see you out there with your little bot," she commented. "What? You aren't feeling up to par tonight? Certainly kicked some tail the other one."

"What were you doing?" Hiro asked, painfully blunt as Redhead shut her mouth in faint bemusement. But ensuring that any awkwardness was diverted from wasn't really on the boy's list of priorities. Not at the moment, anyway. He shook his head a little bit, backtracking as he tried to correct himself. The rather vague question wasn't all that smart in the first place he realized as the other friends around Redhead eyed him skeptically. "I mean…last night," he said lamely, feeling like the world's biggest idiot. "What did you give me?"

Redhead raised her eyebrows again. The left side of her mouth twitched up to form almost a smile. "Well hello to you too," she quipped, though if it was supposed to be a joke, Hiro didn't respond accordingly. "What— the bottle? It was just some beer; it wasn't anything special, I just grabbed it before I left home." She seemed about to drop the subject, but then she straightened again, another grin working over her lips as she narrowed her eyes Hiro's way in a judgmental stare. "Don't tell me you've never had something like that before!" she exclaimed snidely, and once Hiro didn't make a move to correct her, she gave a short laugh. "Aren't you in high school at least, kid? You can't get through high school without at least sipping a tiny touch of alcohol."

Hiro didn't reply, keeping his lips drawn into a tight line. The answer was obvious of course— he hadn't even experienced anything like what he had the night before. Tadashi would have been caught dead before Hiro had been allowed any kind of things like this; all throughout high school, his free time was spent in the presence of his older brother, and rarely anybody else. He hadn't wanted to know about other kids; he hadn't wanted to go to parties, he hadn't wanted to socialize, and he hadn't wanted…well…anything, really. He spent his time with Tadashi, having his older sibling drive him out for ice cream and spending nights on their separate beds talking about school or activities or things like that. He'd been satisfied with no friends and no social life— he didn't need parties to get through high school and he hadn't needed 'a tiny touch of alcohol.' He'd had Tadashi instead. And now…

The thought caused yet another dull knife to stab into his chest. He ducked his head low in a small wince, attempting to hide the expression that flickered over his face as he reached into his hoodie instead. His hand delved around Megabot, instead clutching tightly onto the paper that was behind the robot. Before he could give himself any other kind of hesitation, any other opportunity for his thoughts to get away from him again, Hiro pulled out the money and jerked his arm forward a little awkwardly to extend over to Redhead. He didn't know the exact amount that was in his hand after he'd donated some to the cash register. But he knew that it was enough, and the boy locked his jaw backwards as his shoulders grew stiff with tension. Not hurting anybody. Not causing any problems. He just needed it. Needed a distraction. Needed a way to stop his chest from being torn apart. That was all.

Redhead's eyes flickered down the money, and there was no mistaking the flash of recognition that went over her features. But when she spoke again, her voice was cool and collected. "Hmmm." She pushed off from the alley wall, offering an excuse to her friends, who merely turned away from the sight as the older girl walked over instead the few feet it took to be closer to Hiro. The fourteen-year-old shifted a little bit, swallowing uncomfortably for the umpteenth time as he started to take his arm back slightly, thinking that he had maybe made a mistake. But once Redhead departed from her friends and came to a stop nearer to him, she reached over, plucking the stack of paper from the boy's hands and looking down in order to sift through the bills.

Hiro waited tensely. Redhead continued to count and recount the stack, the young boy growing more and more on-edge as the silence was stretched. Off to the side, there arose another roaring cheer from the crowd, but once again the fourteen-year-old didn't even spare a glance in its general direction. Desperate to break the silence, he cleared his throat a little bit, shifting his weight from foot to foot briefly. "You said you didn't give hand-outs before," the boy reminded, recalling the girl's own words from the night before. "…This way it isn't a hand-out." There was a second more in which neither of the two spoke, so, in order to break it, Hiro added a little bluntly: "I have money."

"Yeah, I see that," Redhead said eventually, her eyes flashing as she looked up from the papers towards him. "…But this is way more money than what that one bottle cost," she pointed out, the side of her mouth twitching into a smile once more at this. It seemed to be a constant thing with her, Hiro figured as he watched, yet the boy remained tight-lipped, waiting for her to come to her own conclusion with the sum. It was much more than what was initially required— that was the point. All in all, there had to be at least more than twenty that was in Redhead's hands now after he had stored some away in the cafe. Against himself, he knew that had he kept the whole pot he had won last night, then he would most definitely be able to get more from her. And more meant that there was a better chance of it working to full capacity. But he quickly shoved the thought away. No. What he'd done, he'd done for Aunt Cass— and that was fine for him. Twenty-something dollars was good enough for now. Just in order to see if would help him.

Redhead nodded, biting down on her lower lip as she surveyed the boy as if he were some piece of work. She rocked back on her heels and sifted through the money in her hands without looking down at it. "I get it," she said with an almost solemn kind of nod. "You want some help." Hiro didn't reply, not really enjoying the choice of words as he had to hold back a scowl. "How old are you?" Redhead asked eventually, the question catching the boy slightly off-guard as he stumbled a little bit mentally.

There was a question in the back of his mind on whether or not to lie. Or at least exaggerate it a little bit— maybe stretch his age by maybe a few years. He could say he was sixteen. Or even seventeen. But he certainly didn't look the part with his short stature, and since he was asking for this kind of help in the first place he might as well be as honest as was required. He didn't like the look in Redhead's eyes— he knew that the possibility of being shot down was more than likely with the way he was going for this. And so far, she seemed to be his only option in this kind of thing. The only easy one, at least. And so far even this wasn't looking to be a walk in the park.

"I'm fourteen," he mumbled, withdrawn slightly as he answered. Redhead nodded again, continuing to look him up and down. She had sorted through the money that had been handed to her many times so far, and if that wasn't enough to get her to do this one thing for him, he didn't know what else could. What would happen if she refused him? What would he do if she shoved the money back to him and told him to try someone else? He would be stuck like this, having nightmares or staying awake for hours on end, staring outside of windows and feeling like this whenever he thought of Tadashi. His throat swelled shut on itself as he thought of this, and he sucked in a quick breath, feeling a dash of desperation as he stumbled forward with his words.

"It wouldn't be— it's just that—" Redhead raised her eyebrows skeptically as the boy choked on his words a little bit. He closed his eyes for a moment, trying to collect himself and draw himself back in. The idea of rejection and the idea of being stuck in this rut was enough to make him scream. So he forced himself to pause briefly before going on. "I have money for you," he said, choosing his words carefully now as he spoke slower. "All I'm asking of you is to go to the gas station or something…" He trailed off for a second. He grimaced, reaching up and rubbing at his forehead a little painfully. "I just need some help in forgetting…something…and I can't buy it on my own. But I'm guessing you can." The girl certainly looked over twenty-one.

"'Forgetting?'" Redhead parroted, quirking a brow at the choice of words. Hiro dropped his arm to his side with a small slap, looking up and meeting her gaze but not replying audibly. She pursed her lips, looking down and filing through the bills one last time. She seemed much more thoughtful now, but there was once again a trace of that lopsided sort of smile on her lips. And after yet another beat of silence, she looked up from the money and down to the younger child. "Alright then, Hiro," she said then, turning and pocketing the money that would cover the needed drinks and then some. Hiro stiffened in surprise, his eyes widening slightly at the idea that this had worked. "If that's what ya want." She paused for a second, looking over at him expectantly.

Hiro's mind was dragged backwards. He thought of the way that Tadashi always woke her up by poking his nose whenever Hiro slept in on accident. He thought of the way that Tadashi would always smile at him even when the boy was obviously on his last nerve, and he remembered that way his older brother always looked down at him and said: "I'm not giving up on you." He thought of the last expression he had seen on his brother's face— a pained kind of look that had drilled through Hiro even in that first moment as meaning something horrible and awful. He thought of his empty bedroom that he had to return to day in and day out, the way that Tadashi's things were untouched and abandoned. Hiro thought of the hat that his brother always wore that was now useless as it was seated atop of the vacant bed. He thought of his dream that he'd had— the way he'd woken up in sweat and tears, and how Tadashi, who would normally have leapt to his feet and rushed over to his little brother's side, was not there to comfort him.

He shut his eyes tightly as if to block out the thoughts that nearly ended up leaving him winded and gasping for air. And instead he nodded his head before he could go even more off-tangent. "Yes." He said, spitting out the single word in something akin to pain as he sealed his plea. "Yes, I want it." Then, desperate once again, he added on: "Please."

But Redhead didn't seem fazed by the boy's emotions. She only snickered and straightened up quickly, clapping her hands together as if she had just made some sort of accomplishment. "Right then." She grinned. "Let's help you forget."

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Hiro waited. Again. The boy sat on the side of a curb, the street in front of him vacant and empty at this time of night. He wished that there was a clock somewhere around here— though at this rate, the later he got home, the better probably. The boy kept his knees closely pressed to his chest, his brown eyes flashing continuously over to the store that was spaced a ways away from him where Redhead had vanished nearly ten minutes ago. The brightly-lit liquor store was still open— its closing hours probably coincided with the weekends, so at least that wasn't any kind of issue in the grand scheme of it all. But the idea didn't really help quell the boy's nerves as Hiro continuously shifted his weight back and forth, reaching up every so often to run slightly shaking hands through his dark hair. Redhead had vanished into the store what felt like hours ago. Why wasn't she back yet?

Maybe she had taken a back way out of the store. Skipped out on him and took the money instead. The idea caused the boy's stomach to knot, and he almost got up to his feet, inclined to go over and enter the store himself. Certainly it wouldn't take this long to just pick something out of random? Money wasn't the issue in buying things, so what was the delay? Hiro wasn't even sure if he was allowed in the store in the first place— his height often got his age mistaken as younger in the first place, so he was more than sure his being inside of an alcohol-only store would raise a few questions.

Before he could decide to do it anyway, Hiro's train of thought was cut short as the door down the street opened again. Sure enough, the girl from before was making her way back towards him, and at her sides were two grocery bags. She turned and started heading Hiro's way, and the teenager immediately jumped up to his feet, stomach flipping as he clasped his hands anxiously in front of him. The bags that the girl held bore the logo of the store, he realized. He couldn't very well bring that inside the cafe without having Aunt Cass see it. But maybe if he turned them inside out…

"Here," Redhead chirped, skirting around a trash can and rounding over in order to meet the boy where he stood. "I got you some stuff— not sure if you'll like the taste, but if 'forgetting' is what you're going for…" She trailed off with that smirking kind of look, holding out the bags for Hiro to take. The teenager paused uncertainly for a second, eyeing the plastic briefly before reaching over and taking it in his own grip. The weight that came inside of the bags felt far more than was truly there, the teenager flinching a little as he adjusted to the burdens.

Inside each bag was a full pack of alcohol— glass bottles much like the one from last night had been. Twelve in all, which seemed excessive. But given the amount of money he had handed Redhead in the first place, it wasn't unfounded for the girl to assume to buy more than one set. The label that was on the glass didn't seem to match the one that he'd had last night. But according to Redhead that didn't serve as any kind of issue. And it wasn't like Hiro had a set thing in mind to follow through with. And taste didn't matter to him; it was the effect that he was trying to reach for. As long as he was given that, he would be more than okay.

As Hiro peered down into the bag, Redhead cleared her throat. "There's about nine dollars left in change for you," she said. "I was gonna get you another pack, but I didn't really know how much you wanted." Redhead said this with a small shrug, watching the teenager as he eventually looked up from the inside of the bags. She reached back into her pocket, drawing out the change and its respective coins and starting to hand them back over to the small teenager. But the boy shook his head at the attempt, not making a move to reach over for the money.

"No, that's fine," he said quickly, holding the bags closer to himself as he took a small step back. "Y-You can keep the change, it's okay. Consider it a thank-you. 'Cause you didn't really have to do this in the first place. So…" He ended with a small, light shrug. Nine dollars wasn't much in the first place, anyway. What would he be able to do with only nine dollars? He bit down on his lower lip, breathing out a little slowly as he cleared his throat with a shade of difficulty. "…so…thank you," he concluded a little lamely, acutely remembering the last time that he had truly thanked someone. The thought caused a sharp pang to rock the boy, and he had to force himself not to rip open one of the bottles he had been given right at that moment. Instead he coughed, looking down at his feet and trying to focus on not blinking. Any excess movement like that would cause the water that was slowly stinging at his eyes to overflow down the sides of his face, and he wasn't about to let that happen. Not right now.

"No problem, sport," Redhead smirked, turning back and pocketing the change that was now deemed hers. She glanced down at the watch that was on her wrist— Hiro thought of leaning out to the side in the attempt to see how late it had gotten himself. But the boy was too focused on what he now held in his hands, and so he missed his chance as the girl lowered her arm with a slight sigh. "Well— I should be heading off if that's all you needed," she sighed.

"Yeah. Yeah, that's all I needed," the boy mumbled, not looking up from the contents inside of the bag.

There was a brief pause.

Then: "You know, if you're looking to forget things, I'm not sure how long that batch'll last you," Redhead stated, as if the fact were a simple one. Hiro looked up, confused at the sudden change on her part. But the girl had already turned, reaching into her other pocket and drawing out a pen. "Usually I just use this to write down the bets my friends and I make on those bot fights," she said, reaching over and grabbing Hiro's arm, rolling up the sleeve of his sweatshirt and ignoring the boy's small noise of surprise. "But this is a little exception," she said, uncapping the pen and starting to scribble down on Hiro's arm.

The teenager grimaced at the dig of the pen, gnashing his teeth together uncomfortably at the pressure. Once Redhead was done and over with her scribbling, she drew back, a satisfied look on her face as she looked at what she had done. And Hiro was quick to make the connection himself as he found that a set of numbers had been scrawled down across his limb. Seven digits— a phone number. He opened his mouth to say something, looking surprised by the sudden gesture that had been given to him. But Redhead spoke first, smiling again as she tapped the pen's heel against the written digits. "Call me when you need something else," she said, Hiro not mistaking the usage of the word 'when' rather than the use of 'if'. "I'll be quick to help," she added, as if they were talking about simple tasks such as helping replace a light bulb in the basement.

Hiro didn't say anything, only staring down at his arm almost blankly. He didn't look up when Redhead said her goodbye, he didn't offer his own as the girl turned to leave, and he didn't even glance up to watch as the older girl walked back down the street the way that the two had come. He just stood standing stock-still, brown eyes trained fixedly on the phone number that was scribbled across his arm, the weight that was now held in one hand representing far more than what had first been anticipated.

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It was dark when Hiro got back home. The lights of the cafe were shut down, and the front door was locked again. Routinely almost, the teenager doubled back behind the building, using the back entrance that was once again left unlocked for him and then proceeding to lock it up right after him. Ensuring that it was closed properly, Hiro made quick work in turning the bags inside out, just in case Aunt Cass was waiting for him upstairs. Once again, the day's events had left the boy sapped and drained of any energy, Hiro's feet tripping over themselves every so often in their weariness as he rounded the passageway to go up the first sets of stairs.

He thought that he would get away with it two nights in a row. The lights were all off upstairs, so he continued on under the impression that Aunt Cass had gone to sleep like she had the evening before. But the situation should have come across far luckier than the boy deserved. On his way up he had made the mistake of forgetting to skip over the creaky stair, the small sound causing the boy to freeze in his tracks and curse himself mentally. He had to pay more attention, otherwise—

"Hiro?"

The boy cringed, gritting his teeth together so hard that for a moment he was blinded by the pain that it caused. But then he sighed through his nose, shaking his head and forcing his back to straighten, a fake smile plastering over his face as he forced himself to brighten. Going up the rest of the stairs and emerging into the living room, he saw that Cass was standing near the couch, one hand out as she flickered on a lamp fixed in place beside the piece of furniture. Her eyes were narrowed, slightly bleary, which showed how tired the woman was. But she was sharp as her eyes immediately found Hiro's, and the boy did his best to upkeep the fake grin as he stood on the landing. "Hiro— what are you doing?" Cass demanded, turning and glancing at the clock mounted on the wall. "Do you have any idea what time it is?"

She sounded near furious. Hiro forced himself to calm down, to hold the bags closer to himself, slightly behind his legs in the attempt to curb attention from it. The plastic was darker on the inside of the bags— Cass wouldn't be able to make sense of what it was unless she peered too closely at them. If she even recognized the logo in the first place. But the boy wasn't about to take that risk in any way, shape, or form. So he attempted to look guilty— which wasn't that hard to do in the first place. "Aunt Cass— I thought you would be asleep by now," he said, the guardian not looking moved at the confession as she continued to stare him down. She was obviously waiting for an explanation. And he was expected to give her one. Great. "I'm sorry. I was just out late with them again, I didn't mean to let it happen for a second time; I really didn't."

"Do you have any idea how worrying it is to be waiting for you like this?" Cass demanded, Hiro looking off to the side with a saddened expression as she launched into her lecture. The woman raised a hand up to her temple, obviously having been worried sick prior to the boy's entrance into the home. "I don't know whether or not you're in trouble or whether or not something happened to you or whether or not I should go out and try to look for you! You really scared me, do you realize that? I was this close to calling you into the police and have them be out looking for you!" Hiro froze at this. "I didn't have any of the other kids' phone numbers so I couldn't call them and I couldn't call you because it was always Tadashi that had the—" She cut herself off immediately at this, freezing, as if what she had said was the equivalent to something mortifying, like taking Mochi and tossing him out the second-story window.

Hiro closed his eyes tightly at this, his stomach sinking. "…I'm sorry, Aunt Cass," he mumbled, his words barely above a whisper.

Cass glanced down at her feet, biting her lower lip briefly. Then she took in a quick breath, shaking her head and looking back up. "You're not allowed out tomorrow night," she said, already sounding apologetic in the punishment. It was a hard thing to do considering that these two nights had been the first of Hiro's in getting out and doing something. But he had promised that this time he would be back earlier— and technically it wasn't even Friday anymore. She had given him free reign of curfew the night before, but this was pushing it now. "Okay?" Then, almost like she was trying to reconcile with the boy, who only seemed to grow every more frustrated at this, she said: "We can stay in and have hot wings. Maybe rent a movie?"

"Fine," Hiro said blankly, still looking over to the side.

Silence. Then: "…What's in the bags?"

Hiro's throat closed in on itself. The boy stopped short slightly, scrambling as he realized that he should have had an answer planned for this very question. The notion that he hadn't anticipated the inquiry was almost mind-boggling in how idiotic it was. The teenager paused a moment, looking back down at the plastic that he held in his right hand, tucked just slightly behind his legs. It looked generic enough. Unsuspecting. But if Cass knew that was inside, she would certainly explode. Probably all over the walls. It wasn't something she could understand, after all. And she wouldn't dare let him even attempt at trying to explain. So he took in a quick breath, and, hoping that it would match his story from before, offered out the best lie he could think of in the moment. "Leftovers. From what Wasabi cooked for me."

"Oh," Cass said, seeming to latch onto the change in topic. "…Was it good?" She tried. "What's in there?"

"Just…some food— look, I'm tired, Aunt Cass," Hiro said, quickly shaking off the leading conversation and trying not to notice how deflated the guardian became as her nephew outright rejected her attempt. "I just want to go to bed now. Okay?" He reached up with his free hand to scrub at his face with a weary expression. "I'm sorry for worrying you," the boy said in a small sigh, already turning to go up the next set of stairs. "It won't happen again."

"Hiro, wait." Aunt Cass said, looking pained as she started after him, reaching out a little hesitantly. The boy stopped on the first stair, frowning as he had one foot raised to keep on going. "I'm sorry," she said, putting one hand down lightly on his shoulder. Hiro didn't react, and she paused a little worriedly before hedging onward. "…I know how hard this has been on you, honey. It's been hard enough for me, but it must be so much worse for you." Hiro didn't look back at her, staring straight up the steps instead as his eyes started to sting, the boy's grip on the railing tightening so much that his knuckles were bleached white from the effort. But if Aunt Cass noticed, she didn't let the details stop her as she kept going. "But you're such a strong little guy, Hiro. And I know that no matter what happens, you'll be able to get through it. You know that too, right?" Hiro swallowed thickly and did not reply. He didn't even turn around. "It just hurts me so much to see you upset," Cass murmured softly, barely speaking by now. "I love you so much. And all I want is to see you happy again…" She trailed off in her words, watching her nephew tensely as she waited for a reaction.

But Hiro only ducked his head. He didn't open his mouth to speak— for he was certain that if he even tried to get out a syllable, his voice would crack in on itself pathetically. He shifted to the side, shrugging his shoulder out from underneath Cass' hand and starting up the steps quickly to leave the woman behind. Cass' face fell immediately as the boy rushed away from her, and she brought her arm back quickly to herself, as if she had been burned. Hiro reached up with his free hand to rub at his eyes, wiping away streaks of water as he hurried away from his guardian. Cass did a double-take for a moment, starting up as if to follow him. But as Hiro rounded the corner away from her and into his room, she held back, knowing that it wouldn't help anything at all. It would just make things worse if she went upstairs now.

An immense amount of guilt clouded over the woman's gaze, and she pressed the heels of her hands into her forehead as she gave out a small sigh that came out more as a whimper. She had just messed up— she could have just ruined everything that Hiro had worked through in these possible two days he'd been with his friends. She would try to make it right, she had to make things right. The thought of her nephew — who she had more than adopted and loved as if he were her own son — being this wrecked, this upset, was enough to send her reeling. Heaving out another sigh to calm herself, and forcing herself to refrain from following Hiro at the moment, Cass turned away and started back towards her room. With a heavy heart, and even heavier sense of burden on her shoulders, the woman turned on her way back, twisting to the side and switching off the table-side lamp beside the couch, leaving the house to shroud itself in darkness.

'I know you can get through this.'

Hiro wished for nothing more than a door in the entryway of his room as he rushed upstairs, aching for the need to slam something shut and have a barrier in between him and the rest of the world. Coming up from the stairs, Hiro literally threw the bags he held in his hands onto the bed, the young teenager's hands shaking as they raised up to press against his forehead. He turned, his eyes locking onto the other end of the room, the boy able to picture clearly the way that Tadashi would have immediately sat straight up upon such an arrival of the boy's. Hiro's shoulders jerked up and down unevenly, the boy's breathing escalating into a hyperventilation as his head spun, evoking dizziness. Tadashi would have sprung forward, literally throwing himself at Hiro as he grabbed at the boy's shoulders, frantically asking what was wrong, what he could do to help. But that was the problem. It was the root of the problem.

'You're such a strong little guy, Hiro.'

The boy ducked his head, frustration bottling itself in the back of his throat as he gave out a small sob. Tears made hot trails down the sides of his cheeks, and he slowly found that his legs couldn't support him as his knees began to buckle. Feeling pathetic and lost and hopeless, the teenager could hardly bear to try and stifle any noises that might alert Aunt Cass that anything was wrong. He was only swamped with grief, with depression. 'And I know that no matter what happens, you'll be able to get through it.' His shoulders hunched forward, and he sobbed brokenly into the palms of his hands.

"Why did you have to go and do that?" he whimpered, looking up and peering through the water in his eyes to stare brokenly at the now-blurred sight of Tadashi's empty bed. "Why did you have to go into that fire? Why couldn't you just…" His breath hitched slightly and a deep frown etched itself into his features as he slowly he shook his head from side to side, hanging his head once more as he flinched away the sight in front of him. "…I miss you…Tadashi," he whimpered underneath his breath. "I miss you so much…" He whispered. "…And I just can't…"

Hiro couldn't finish the sentence. His throat wouldn't allow it as it swelled shut on him. A bubble of furious anguish started to choke him and the boy locked back his jaw, turning around and looking back at his bed. Another expression shrouded over the boy as his eyes narrowed, his hands balling into tight fists as he scowled deeply. The fourteen-year-old pushed himself up to his feet, staggering slightly in his rush as he flew to the bags, yanking out of the packs of bottles and dropping it onto his covers. His hands shaking and trembling, Hiro's face clouded over into an expression of something akin to anger, the teenager tearing out one of the bottles of alcohol and ripping off its cap without even bothering to wrap it up in a cloth first. The skin of his hand was sliced painfully at the boy's rampant movements, but he didn't pay any kind of heed. He just proceeded to throw aside the cap, feeling sick as he quickly ducked down to throw back a large gulp of the dark-colored liquid that was inside of the glass.

Immediately, the taste burned through his mouth, bitter and awful as he lowered the drink, closing his eyes tightly as he gagged on the flavor. But he didn't let the trivial detail stop him, the boy only shaking his head firmly before downing another gulp. He forced down mouthful after mouthful of the acrid liquid, impelling his throat to work down the alcohol despite its trained motive to force back up the foul stuff. Slowly, Hiro sank back down into a sitting position, drawing his knees close to himself as he pressed his back up against the bed. Bitter as the taste was, the pure strength of the alcohol was apparent the longer he drank. With each added gulp, and with each added swig of the liquor, the warm feeling that he had experienced the night before started to return, replacing the harrowing feeling that carved at his chest before. His hands stopped trembling and shaking, and each small sob that worked its way out of the boy's throat was quieter than the one before it until the sound ceased to exist at all.

And when one was finished off, he drank down another one, growing numb not only to the awful taste that had prolonged him before, but also growing numb to everything else. A sense of calm and peace replaced the aching sense of loss and agony that he had been fostering— the boy feeling as if a warm blanket had been applied to him on a cold winter night. His mind grew fuzzy and dark, clouded and incoherent as he came to the end of his second bottle. The teenager's eyes were half-lidded now, slightly vacant. There wasn't a sense of pain in the depths of his gaze as he stared straight forward, and there wasn't any more hiccupping sounds of grief or sadness. His shoulders had stopped in their uneven shakes, and even the tears, which had seemed never-ending before, only came across as small leaks every now and then. Instead, two bottles having been emptied now, two bottles having muffled everything around him, the teenager sank, crumbling to the ground and landing on his side with a small thud.

Sprawled against the wooden floor, Hiro was just a small heap, unmoving and limp. In his slack hand rested one of the bottles loosely; the other had rolled away from him once he fell down to the ground. He should have gotten up to hide the evidence. If Aunt Cass came upstairs and saw the sight, she would certainly freak out even more. But he couldn't scrounge up the effort to pick himself up from the ground; he couldn't manage the will to get up and tuck away the bottles in the similar fashion he had done before. His head was left swimming from that large intake of alcohol, and his stomach was more that sensitive at the moment— lying down was the only possible option.

Instead, he curled forward, his movements robotic and slow as he tucked down close to himself, his glazed eyes falling shut as he succumbed to sleep— something he normally would be unable to do. The boy sank into unconsciousness, not hindered by coherent thought anymore, and not sidetracked by midnight worries or agonies. He didn't glance over to Tadashi's things, and he didn't even stop to think about his dream, which the boy had been unable to stop dwelling over since this morning. There was nothing except the fuzzy sense of unconsciousness, which was relieving; it was peaceful. The numbness brought with it a sense of muffled serenity. Numbness was preferred. It was satisfying. It was enough to let the boy relax.

And that was all he needed…

He just needed to relax…

Relax…