In foresight, you were already nervous enough, but now you found yourself borderline insanity (you think that as though you aren't already insane, driven mad by your experience) about the upcoming events. Surely, you owed them at least something, but no matter how many ideas went in and out of your head, you couldn't pick one (nothing you could do would be good enough payment) no one idea seemed right (stupid, insolent child). Your classmates, surely, deserved a wonderful Christmas (they risked their lives for you and you nearly killed them, the monster you are), and your dear, dear brother deserved at least a pleasant birthday (he deserved so, so much more) and, (being the indecent creature you are), could barely construct an idea in that thick, hollow skull of yours. You promised yourself every day, every waking hour, that you would at least not be a reason that any of it could be ruined (but it's never good enough, and you know it's never good enough).
So, you think and think and think (your brother criticizes you paying less attention than normal) up a plan to make it, not just a wonderful Christmas and birthday, but a wonderful December altogether, and you find it was rather simple. In truth, it was something you realize you should have been doing all along (but never did because you're selfish, like storybook monsters, except this is real); avoid everyone as much as possible at all and any cost. You start skimming around the building rather than marching straight through and greeting all your friends (golden beings you share classes with, you correct yourself). You start wearing a hoodie to class to hide your form from the eyes of your brother (dear, dear otouto) and classmates. You only remove the hoodie when necessary, to avoid detention (added work for your brother), and in the dorm, you leave food for him in the morning and evening though you are long gone, up and out and in and down before and after he wakes up and falls asleep.
They start to become curious, and occasionally prod but never bother to try and remove it (they love it, and you know they love it), leaving you well enough alone. It is as though you are a spirit or entity, ghosting along the lines of reality but not quite entering that place. You find you are never truly there (and you hate it so much, it drives you even more insane than you already are) and it scares you, how easy it is to simply get lost. Yet, you brush it off and keep going. Oftentimes, you find yourself glancing at the calendar, trying to wish it to January so it could all be over (incapable of all and any self-sacrifice) but then you catch yourself and vanish before anyone realizes a that any semblance of a human (demon) conscience exists underneath the fabric and flesh, something you can't let happen (you owe them it).
They start to get worried (even in trying to do something good, you burden them) but you brush it off, tell them you're tired or weren't in the mood. For the most part, they respond with understanding words and gestures (you will never understand what this feels like, what any of it feels like, you think). You respond with a thank you and disappear once more, either physically or mentally (you wonder if your very spirit leaves, sometimes) and are gone for hours. Now, you find yourself disappearing more and more often. Sometimes you won't return to the dorm for the days, and, though rarer, will occasionally skip school. They start searching you out, prying harder than before (the concerned angels) but you never spill. Some part of you is concerned (you start to enjoy the silence, relish the company of non-existence), but you can't quite bring yourself to care as much anymore. You loosen your hold on reality and find yourself drifting further and further away from the shore you've tied yourself to. The rope started thinning just the tiniest bit, but you start hoping it will break one day (they don't want you there, anyway; both parties would be better off).
It's two weeks until Christmas, and your classmates are relaxing, anxious for the school holiday. Oddly enough, none of them were leaving the school, but you don't really care. One part of you is glad that you have more time with your new-found company (you named the quiet Cho, and the place you found beyond reality Maindo; they're always there for you) but one small part is worried about ruining your brother's holiday (failure is not an option, not that it ever was). The forest becomes your third friend; you've memorized every nook and cranny (you imagine your brother saying how your studies could use the same attention) and you name it Inpei; fitting for the reason you come to it. You hide inside its beauty (inverted geode, you joke to yourself) and begin meditating there one day. You find yourself at peace, and can't remember how you ever lived the way you did before. Cho became your loudest audience, Maindo became reality for you, and Inpei became a cloak. Something you fully loved. Soon enough, you gained a fourth friend. Sometimes you think it should be four and five, but for the most part you consider them the same (because they really are one and the same, aren't they?) You name the meditation and peace you find from it Suimin.
You hardly feel anymore, and are perfectly content with the way you could lay perfectly still for hours like the corpse you were becoming; because that's all your body really was anymore, right? You became thinner and thinner, never in the dorm long enough to cook and eat (you had a new source of sustenance) and were hardly ever in the body long enough to tell. Under the dirty and slowly rotting hoodie, you grow pale with odd shades of purple reaching across your eyes (who needs it, right? All you need anymore are your friends). You know your brother will be worried, so you don't even bother to show up at the dorm during the day anymore. It's one week until Christmas, but you don't think you will even make an appearance on the beloved day of the holiday or on one special day following two after.
While meditating, your senses reach and find things you would never find normally, and you love how substantially powerful it makes you feel (you start feeling it outside of meditation, and that feeling never does fade; getting stronger each time). As it gets stronger and stronger, you find yourself fading slowly, piece by piece, but you feel your mind being slowly enlarged to the universe. Your mental capabilities soar. Your memories comes into crystal clear detail, and you can recall each and every second of your life (the memories of your brother being bullied almost provoked you enough to accidentally hurt Inpei), and can separate actual memories from dreams. Soon after, other memories start invading your mind; memories that are not your own. At first, you resist, but only slightly, but soon revoke your defenses and allow it to wash over you. You find you don't care to draw lines between whose memories are whose and whether or not they actually happened or if they are dreams, but you always can (you never do, but you somehow just know).
The trees seem to hum and vibrate (you idly wonder why you were given this ability when so many others tried and failed) muted music that attracted creatures to itself. They were content, and were passive throughout their entire lives. You want to be like them; to be able to be at peace through your life. You spend the day a bit more active than the day before, ghosting through the forest like you did the school. Your legs are quick to tire and lungs quick to ache, but they faded into the idle background and you continued on anyway. The repulsive smell of your hoodie gently tickles your nose, but you enjoy it. You wanted to wake up for awhile (remember your purpose, demon child) and ideally balance the physical and the mental. When you take off the hoodie, your appearance startles you slightly; you feel as though you had seen this coming early on, but then chose to ignore it (impulsive, power-hungry). While it momentarily concerns you, you fail to continue caring and leave it hung on a branch, where you know you will find it on your way back to the very center of the forest, from which you feel the earth vibrate the most.
You decide to return to the dorm, late at night, long after you know your brother (you wonder what his Christmas and birthday plans are, now that he probably realized it won't be weighed down by your presence) will have gone to sleep. You can hear him breathing, his heart beating, from the edge of the forest. You can hear about who did what and who cheated on who and why so and so was stupid all the way back, from those unwilling to accept sleep's embrace, but most of it was drowned out by the sound of drums, most beating at different paces; everyone's hearts. Signs that they were alive and well. Sure, some were beating faster than others, some slower than others, but each and every life force across the campus was most certainly alive (this, you are glad for).
Finally, you reach the dorms you had shared with your brother. It is an hour past midnight, and nothing stirs, except the pitter-patter of Kuro pacing the same spot, over and over again. Like the ghost you've become, you vanish in and out of the halls, slipping through solid objects like mist. Kuro never finds you, not that he can. A sad hum emitted from his core, and when he came into view, he was pacing in front of a lone window. Occasionally he would stop and stare out the window, wishing for his master's return. Ukobach was to be heard shuffling quietly around the kitchen, lacking the vigor he usually put into cooking, likely from the apparent disappearance of his cooking buddy (lies, none of them need you). Your senses claw everything they can reach. The small herd of coal tars living in the walls feel a new presence, but you ignore them as they scatter, startled by the power radiating from your core (empowering the demon child, such idiots). You don't find that you care much for the emptiness Kuro and Ukobach feel now. Perhaps they miss you, more as kin, but consciously? Likely not.
At some point you phase through the wall and find yourself standing in your bed (like the nonexistent you should be, everything below your shins disappears in the bed) and your brother sleeping calmly on the other side of the room, undisturbed by your presence (just as it should be). Idly wondering why you felt as though you wanted to come here, you wandered the small room, going through your brother's briefcase (snooping, invasive) at some point. You find a notebook in the corner of the case, tucked away at the bottom (no one was meant to find this, you think). It seemed rather new, and as you flipped through it, you realized it was some kind of journal. The first listed date was the same day you started disappearing; December 4th.
All the entries list some kind of worry or anxiety, pointed directly at you (even when you're gone, you manage to burden your dear family and classmates, you monstrosity of a living being, hardly fit to be called human anymore; not that you ever were). You look over at your brother, who has moved in his sleep to face you, although not realizing exactly what he was doing. You think to yourself that there is one way you can fully remove yourself from their lives, but it is something you want to put more thought towards, being as serious a decision as it was (regardless of how much thought you put into it, you know which is the right choice and which is the wrong choice). You look towards the book again and will it to turn to the latest entry.
The book does as it is told.
You sit on your bed as a solid figure (go back to being a ghost, eliminate your own presence) and read the entry with careful scrutiny, analyzing it from every possible angle the universe gave you. The page was mostly filled with wishes that deeply expressed your brother's worries for you and about you (worried even more than you thought he was, you sick beast). The angry red ink contrasted sharply against the white paper, with penmanship just as cold and perfectly angled (your brother is the most perfect mortal you know you'll ever meet), forever burned into your mind, along with perfectly detailed memories, more than half of which aren't even yours (you feel sick to your stomach as you take an emotional perspective). The world starts spinning in your confusion and you're glad you're sitting down, else you would have fallen. Your brother doesn't awake at the sound of a quiet grunt you accidentally let slip out. Memories rushed through your head like blood, and though you were quickly drawing lines between them (else you'll lose whatever semblance of sanity you have left), you almost don't notice your brother surfacing from his sleep. You silence yourself and before you can phase through the wall, your brother opens his eyes, and you know the whole plan (you finally remembered to care about why you did it; too bad it's too late).
He blinks a few times and looks at you, likely confused by the blob, surrounded by a putrid odor, sitting on your bed, until he puts on his glasses and you come into clean view. What he sees, you know isn't pleasant; the rotting clothing and inhumanly pale skin, pulled taut over muscle and bones; an appearance akin to a long-dead corpse, perhaps having been starved to death and buried in the tundra.. He can only blink a few times, but you don't respond; your face is downcast, and you can barely comprehend that he is awake, until the flood of memories finally slows to a trickle, and the pain ceases. He waits impatiently, biting his lip and staring at you with wide eyes, unsure of what exactly to do in this situation (he's afraid of getting hurt if he touches you. How much more of a monster can you get, making your brother scared of you?) except hope that you make the first move.
You slowly look up and your heart clenches when you see the fear in your brother's eyes, and you can feel yourself shrink away a little bit, getting ready to phase through the wall, but unsure of how well that would after the whole mental catastrophe that he was glad no one could hear or see (stay strong, and don't let them see you cry. Make sure you stand strong for them, you can never wane). Your breath catches in your throat as you wait for your brother to say something, and after a few moments he blinks a few times and nervously glances around the room, trying not to stare at you (you are simply too disgusting to be looked at), so you gather up whatever you can find of your voice and manage to utter a few words after a few minutes. Your voice is raw, and that surprises you a little bit, but you try not to let it show.
"..H-Hey, Yukio..." You ground out, deciding to stare him directly in the face, wondering what would become of his brother's Christmas and birthday (you share it, but it's only his. It's not yours) now that you had 'miraculously' appeared. Your brother's gaze snapped to you, all sorts of emotions written clearly all over his face, unlike the stony mask he wore around during the day.
"...Hey, Nii-san..." Your brother greeted you back with a shaky voice, small and frail. Both of you sat in an odd silence, neither entirely awkward or comfortably, but an unstable, unbalanced combination of both, concerning you slightly. You idly wondered why you had thought it would be a good idea to return to the dorm tonight (selfish, touch-depraved) but some part of you, deep inside, was truly glad you had come back tonight. Regardless of where this conversation - if it would even become one - went, at least it would have been said and done, instead of unsaid and weighing on both for, possibly, several years.
Finally settling on something, you sighed and rubbed your eyes a little bit, clearing your throat a little. Your brother stares at you, waiting to see what you would do, curiosity written all over the left side of his face and fear written across the right, and it only made your heart sink, as if clenching it hadn't been enough.
"So, um.." You start quietly, playing with your thumbs, staring at them with half-lidded eyes, sometimes glancing at the moon from the corner of you eye, wishing desperately (desperate, you are, as you lust for power) you were with Inpei and Cho, meditating and not feeling so shitty right now for leaving your brother alone all of winter break, though that would make you even more of a monster to not feel the guilt, wouldn't it?
"Happy... happy birthday, Yukio..." You finish your sentence, blinking sleepily, wondering how long you had until your body shut down in its need for sleep - it had happened a few times before, although prolonged for an odd reason - wondering what your brother's reaction would be. He blinked a few times, then slowly got up from the bed so he stood up, looking down at you (he is your superior, you filthy abyssal creature. He places you lower, where you belong), and slowly makes his way over to you. You stiffen and ready yourself to be scolded, or slapped. Upon your reaction, your brother pauses in place and holds his breath, as though afraid you'll run, and feels as though he's trying to approach a scared, cornered animal. As it was, you already was cornered, you already are becoming scared (the only decency you have is to not hurt your brother, no matter what he does to you, but that means he can hurt you as much as he wants, even if he is afraid of getting hurt by you). There's a sad look in his eyes now, as he continued towards you, going slower and keeping his arms at his sides, not wanting to startled you as it seemed he already had.
When he reached your bed, he crouched down and climbed onto the bed so he was resting on his knees, but even so continued closer and closer towards you so that he was right in front of you. You pulled your knees to your chest and hid your face behind them, never having seen your brother have such an expression; never, not when they were bullied, not when you beat the living crap out of the bullies, not when something had inadvertently burst into blue flame in the monastery...
Your brother stopped crawling, but he leaned in and suddenly brought you into a crushing hug, digging his face into your forehead. Silent tears seeped through the thin fabric, and you felt them on your skin (making your brother cry? You're worse than I thought). You froze, but felt something lash uncontrollably from yourself; a sob. You put your hands to your closed eyes and sob. Tears drip down from your hands to your wrist, falling onto your brother. Your body shakes as your sobs wrack it, but your brother remains steadfast there, holding you close throughout the whole thing. By four, you're whimpering pitifully, but your brother is still there, wide awake, and your brother finally whispers something to you.
"Happy birthday, Nii-san."
The voice you that's always discouraging you doesn't come back.
Word Count: 3,448
You can't understand this without understanding it on a personal level. That, or you're perceptive.
-Scarlet & Alexia
