The Youth of Shizume

(Scar)

He needs a fire to melt the pieces back together.

...

He was sitting, cross-legged, on the coach. It was one of the spare rooms, the one with the video games and a dusted canvas in a corner. In front of him, that old 80's television displayed Kousuke's attempts first-person-shooting games.

BANG.

Until the screen was overwhelmed by red, splatters and angry scratches, and Kousuke 's shoulders sagged in defeat. He wasn't interested in games; he'd usually stand by the door and watch the boys take turns to play. He was silent, between the noise from the games and the players' screams, nobody noticed those times when Eric would leave his post to go downstairs.

A glass, a piece of cloth. A smirk and occasionally a one-sided small talk from the bartender. Eric was careful, never once dropping the items given to him. Concentrated, stroke after stroke after stroke...

He felt the pressure of a hand on his shoulder.

He turned to his left, Kousuke's eyes the first thing he saw. Seconds passed and the game kept calling for a player, with a start Eric gazed down to find a joystick being offered to him, and a scar on the hand holding it.

Kousuke smiles as Eric takes the controller, only to frown in confusion when the boy leaves it in the couch. But then his hand is grabbed and he stops thinking for a second, as he feels his palm connect with Eric's cheek. Eyes staring downwards, Eric mutters apology after apology, the words barely reaching Kousuke's ears. He starts when Kousuke rests his other hand on his head, and no sound escapes his lips.

Kosuke sighs. Eric lowers his head and his eyes open in surprise when he feels his hair being ruffled. The hands holding Kousuke's tremble a bit.

He's over-thinking again, because he didn't feel the hand leaving his head nor hear the plastic as Kousuke reached inside his pocket and presented Eric with a little red candy. Surprised, Eric let's go of Kousuke's hand and looks up at him, his mouth slightly open with unasked questions. It is not until Kousuke nods that Eric picks up the sweet, but it takes another for him to unwrap it and put it on his mouth, Kousuke's eyes never leaving his.

While Eric smiles uncertainly, Kousuke gives him the one that was always meant to be for him. The one no other can elicit, the one that keeps Eric away from memories of chains and limping in the dark, of blood scurrying down his legs and nobody to turn to.

And then Kousuke puts the controller in his hands, his arm on his shoulders and sits a bit closer, his gaze shifting towards the red-splattered screen.

Because there was once a little boy that would sit on the ground, pressing buttons while concentrated in the game, his parents smiling from behind him. Blond locks falling to his face as he moved and whispered commands to the screen, trying to beat the game before it was time to go to bed. A little boy playing games bought with smuggling money and the best intentions, though his parents never intended for him to be left to fend for himself and fail miserably.