author's note: warning for mothers, parents fighting, hand injuries, mention of alcoholism, divorce, and self-piercing
Souda's in his room, reading the manual on engine overhaul that he got for his recently-celebrated 13th birthday, when he hears glass break downstairs. Shouts echo up, seeping through the small gap under his door like poison. He skids out of his room and into the hall, making his way to the kitchen; he pauses before he enters the room, trying to figure out what's happening.
Before he can make out any clear words, however, his dad brushes past him and leaves, slamming the door. Silence crashes on his ears.
This is the third fight this week.
Souda debates on whether or not to enter the kitchen, where he knows his mother will be sitting at the table crying or staring blankly at her hands, a smashed cup or plate on the floor. He never knows what to say, but he hates the thought that lingers in his head if he turns away.
I can't abandon her like my old man does.
He steps gingerly into the room, making enough noise to let her know he's there, but not enough to intrude. When he gets closer, Souda can tell that today is a staring-at-hands day. He reaches out slowly and rubs his mum's back, trying to comfort her; the material of her shirt slips under his fingers. A shaky sigh passes her lips.
"It's okay, Kazuichi. He's just gone to the shop to cool off... probably. I started it anyway," she says, not looking up, not offering more information.
He stays quiet, thoughts racing in his head; was the fight about him? Had he done something wrong? Souda couldn't remember much of the past week, except for failing a quiz in science. He hopes that's not the cause of his parents' turmoil.
The two stay like that, the clock ticking minutes away into the silence. Souda isn't sure if he should leave or not, but the atmosphere is pressing on him, and his fingers twitch. He looks around the room at everything that isn't his mother's hunched over figure and spots the glass on the floor. Crouching down, he picks up a couple of pieces, piling them into his hand.
He hisses sharply in pain. An edge had caught the soft part of his palm.
"Oh, no, what happened?" his mum asks, hurrying over. "You're bleeding, Kazu! You should've been more careful."
She moves quickly out of the room, coming back a minute later with an antibacterial cream and bandages, fussing over him. The blood-covered shards fall back to the floor. Souda stares at his hand, not surprised at the injury, but feeling utterly overwhelmed by all the emotions welling up in him; the gentle movements of his mother only make him feel worse. He hates that he can't do anything right. He hates that he can't help. He wants to yell, to beat himself up, to make himself useful somehow, but all he can do is stare at the glass on the floor and his bandaged hand. The image blurs before him and his eyes burn for half a second before tears pour down his cheeks.
He lets out a strangled sob. The sound makes his mum turn around from where she was picking up where he left off with the glass, and she drops it all when she sees her son's pained face. She throws her arms around him, pulling his face into her shoulder, petting his hair soothingly.
"It's okay, sweetie, it's okay, it's just a cut," she says, voice worried. "You'll be fine, don't cry. You're a big boy now, right? You can handle this, it was just a little cut. You're okay."
Souda shakes his head, burrowing further into her shoulder. Her shirt is wet with his tears and his breath comes back hot and stuffy, unable to go anywhere in the small space between his mouth and her collarbone, but he stays, crying on her for as long as she lets him. She mutters "shh, shhh" every time he sobs.
Slowly, he calms down, breath catching in his throat with a few last half-formed whimpers. His eyes and throat are raw; he hopes his contacts are still fine. He doesn't exactly feel better about himself, but his mind feels clearer, heart a little lighter.
His mother says "shhh" one more time and pulls away. Souda notices her eyes are watery too, and hopes it's not because of him. Wiping his nose on his sleeve, he manages a tiny smile, trying to show her he's okay. She smiles back.
Watching her get out the dustpan and broom, Souda decides not to tell her the real reason he was crying; he doesn't want to stress her out more. He holds the pan while she sweeps the glass into it. She sighs.
"That was my favourite cup," she mutters, tossing the glass into the garbage. Souda realises this is his chance to find out what the fight was about. He rocks back and forth, deciding how to bring it up; he doesn't want to upset her just to satisfy his curiousity. In a small voice, he speaks up.
"Um.. what did Dad do, anyway?" he asks. Watching her expression, he mentally curses himself when her lips tighten into a thin line and her eyes narrow; after a minute, she sags, looking defeated.
"I told him I was fed up with how much he was drinking, and that he spends too much time in that garage of his, instead of being part of his family. But apparently I'm not allowed to expect things of him," she says. She scowls at the trash bin where the shards lay, then sighs. "Things just haven't been great lately, Kazu. I'm sorry you had to hear all that earlier."
"Are.. are you two gonna split up?" Souda asks. It had flashed through his mind when the fights first started up, but he had pushed the question down, refusing to think about it. But now, faced with the possibility for real... he swallows, hard.
She pauses, walks over to him, and ruffles his dark hair.
"We'll see," she says sadly.
A month later, Souda watches her drive away in a borrowed truck for the last time.
He skips school that day. Souda hadn't seen his dad since the morning, when he had stood on the tiny porch seeing her off, and assumes he's gone off to the shop for the day. Souda considers swinging by the school, but he doesn't want to get caught by a teacher; he just wants to see Hinata, but knows he shouldn't risk it. He sits back down on his bed and realises how exhausted he is. Deciding to spend the day in his room, Souda crawls back under the covers, trying not to think about how empty the house and his heart are.
Souda wakes up hours later, unsure of what time it is. It's hazy outside his window; most of the sky is blocked by the neighbouring house, but enough light is filtering in that he can tell it's not as late as it feels. Rubbing his eyes – Shit, he thinks, Fell asleep with my contacts in – all of the memories and feelings come rushing back.
The overwhelming wave hits him all at once; he hunches over, the weight of his emotions almost tangibly holding him down. With all of his strength Souda bites back the urge to scream, and bites his tongue instead. His sharp teeth draw blood and he gasps in pain. It's enough to snap him momentarily out of the meltdown.
Breathing deeply, he unclenches his hands and sits ups. Souda looks around his room, trying to find something with which to occupy himself; unfortunately, everything reminds him of his mum, from the manual left open on the floor to the video game she bought him months ago that he hadn't finished yet. Even his own hand, with the fading scar on the palm, takes him back to that conversation in the kitchen.
"We'll see," echoes in his head and he stomps in frustration, tears springing to his eyes. Out of anger Souda shoves everything off of his desk. Amidst the mess, a glint of silver catches his eye; it turns out to be a safety pin. Picking it up, Souda stares at it, then stares at himself in the mirror on his wall. Boring black hair, an ordinary face, the only thing that stood out about him were his pink eyes. An' even those aren't natural, he thinks sullenly.
"I'm nothin' but a background character..." Souda says out loud.
He stares at the safety pin again, forming an idea. Steeling himself, he raises the pin to his ear, determined to no longer be the mundane, overlooked Souda Kazuichi he had been all his life.
And, he thinks, Without Mum here no one'll even notice this. No one t'yell at me for anythin'. I can do whatever I want.
With those thoughts in his head, he lines the pin up to his earlobe, takes a deep breath, and –
The pain is instant, shooting through his ear. Letting go of the pin and leaving it stuck in his ear, Souda drops to his knees, tears in his eyes. His ear throbs, and he reaches up to feel it gingerly. There's a spot of blood on the pad of his finger. A tear rolls down his cheek as he curls up on the floor, unable to move the pin, not wanting to do his other ear. He cries quietly, without the cacophony of feelings that were in him before, barely restrained; now all he can feel is the slow burn of his punctured earlobe, salty tears washing over it.
It grows dark in his room. Shadows creep over his body; he hadn't turned the light on all day. He's lost track of how long he's been lying on the floor, except that his body is cold and stiff and his stomach won't stop rumbling. He wants to drag himself into his bed, but he can't find the motivation to get up.
Suddenly, light floods his room, coming in through the window. There's only one reason for it.
Hinata.
Souda wonders if Hinata had noticed his absence at school, and if he had even cared. From the shadows in his room, he can tell it's pretty late for Hinata to just be getting back now; Souda figures Hinata's given up on him as a friend.
Something comes flying in through his open window and taps on the floor. Shifting his head, he can see it's the cup on a string Hinata had made a couple years ago. He wipes his face with both of his hands, sits up slowly, and crawls over to the cup. He holds it up to his ear.
"Hey, man," comes Hinata's voice, and Souda feels the tiniest bit of relief. There's no anger or sign of boredom or obligation in his friend's voice.
"Hey," Souda croaks back. He suddenly realises how thirsty he is, as well as hungry.
"You doing okay? You weren't at school today, I was kind of worried," Hinata says.
You have no idea, Souda thinks, but doesn't say. Instead, he just says, "Yeah, sorry."
"Y'know, you don't really sound okay."
"'M fine," Souda says. Even though Hinata's his best – and only – friend, he's not sure if he really wants to talk about what's going on.
There's silence on both ends for a few minutes. Souda's convinced that Hinata's bored with him and his terrible attitude, and he can't really blame the guy. I'd give up on me, too.
"...Move away from the window," Souda hears, and before he can say anything back, a pair of socked feet, followed by two legs, come in through his window. He scrambles back, watching as his friend maneuvers himself into the room. Hinata falls less than gracefully onto the floor. Righting himself, he brushes his pants off and grins.
"Hey," Hinata says simply, as if he didn't just climb between two houses and in through a window.
Souda stares, taken aback, at the boy sitting in front of him. His mind is still racing, between his anger and sadness at his mother leaving, the pain from his ear, the apathy that took him over for hours, and now the strange relief and warmth at seeing his friend. He doesn't know what expression to make, so he settles for what he hopes is a neutral.
Hinata doesn't ask questions about where Souda was all day, or why he stayed home; he doesn't say anything at all, just sits on the floor in front of the window like he was born to be there, occasionally smiling at Souda.
Affection floods Souda's body and he starts to shake. He can't explain why it means so much to him that Hinata's here, even though neither of them are talking. Grateful for the unconditional acceptance, and what he assumes is support, tears fill his eyes again. Souda's lost count of how many times he's cried lately, but this time he doesn't feel so horribly alone.
He makes his way over to Hinata and sits beside him, resting his head on his friend's shoulder. Hinata puts his arm around him.
"Sorry I was so late getting to you," he says. "I checked around town first, 'cause I didn't know where you'd be."
Souda just nods and sniffles.
"Why'd you do that to your ear?"
"...Felt like a change," Souda says. Hinata showing up had made him forget about the pain in his ear, but he reaches up, closing the pin. He doesn't want to let it go to waste.
"You know, you should get the other side done too, so they match. I'll go with you, if you want," Hinata says.
Souda nods again. A professional piercer is probably a good idea.
He breathes deeply, feeling more calm than he has in a long time. It's comfortable, sitting on the floor against the wall with Hinata, watching the room get darker and darker, save for the light still coming in from Hinata's room. Souda stopped crying a while ago, but Hinata's arm remains wrapped around him. He yawns.
"Do you want to go to bed?" Hinata asks.
"Yeah.. But, um, would ya mind if..."
"Do you want me to stay?"
Once more, Souda nods. Hinata nods back, stands up, and stretches. He offers his hand to Souda and pulls him up. They both climb into Souda's small bed, trying to figure out how to fit two lanky growing-boy bodies in it. Laying back to back, sharing a pillow and their warmth, Souda realises it's his first-ever sleepover.
"Are your parents gonna care that you're here?" Souda asks into the darkness.
"Nah, I'll just sneak back in the morning before my mom comes in to wake me up," Hinata says. "They won't know I was gone."
"Ah, alright."
"Do you want to come over for breakfast tomorrow?"
Souda thinks about how empty his own table is going to be from now on without his mum there. His dad never talked much at breakfast; he was almost always walking out the door as Souda was getting up. He usually just ate with his mum. Breathing in deeply, trying to get rid of those thoughts, he turns his mind instead toward how lively and bright his friend's kitchen always is, and how he's allowed to be part of it. Souda smiles.
"Yeah, sure," he says, and yawns. "Good night, dude."
"Good night," comes from Hinata's side.
Souda lays awake for a little longer, listening to the slow, even breathing of his friend as he drifts off. There's no space under the blanket, and his arm is falling asleep from being crushed under him, but there's a warm, gentle feeling spreading through him that lulls him to sleep.
"Thanks," he whispers, and nods off.
