When one loses sleep, it seems one becomes more in tune with the wants that they hold down. Least, that's what I have found. Cigarettes, for example. The cravings for such poison becomes nearly irresistible, or might, had I put up any true form of resistance. Once I've had my fill of that toxic smoke, fatigue washes over me. In the mornings, smoking tends to be the farthest thing from my mind. Yet exhausted, it calls to me. And so I cannot help but wonder, does that mean I should follow every impulse that strikes me whilst tired, or avoid them all completely?

That is a good question.

Karamatsu was just so tired by now. He wanted to go home but he wanted to stay far away from home. At this point, he just couldn't win. After his talk with Homura-chan, he had enough to think about. Then Kin-chan somehow found him? And he was exhausted.

I could go into detail about their conversation, but that would be a waste of my time and yours.

To summarize: Kinko spent a good half an hour tracking down Karamatsu, and he had a conversation with her much like the one he'd had with Homura-chan. But different.

Now, instead of considering if he should return home, he was considering when he should go home. He couldn't keep running like this. Of course he didn't believe anyone was looking for him, but that didn't mean he was right.

So he walked.

He walked more, much as he had been.

And he thought, much as he had been.

He was almost positive he would return home, at least for a while.

But he was afraid.

There was so much to consider.

Had his family even noticed he'd left?

If so, were they happy about it, or worried?

If not, was that because they didn't care, or just couldn't keep track? There were six of them after all.

If they were happy he was gone, should he leave completely? Where would he go? And why on earth was he so sure that they would want him gone? He didn't want..

Wait. Him. He forgot again. He had to consider himself as well.

That was most of what his two most recent conversations were about. Homura made him question what his family would really want. Kinko made him question what he really wanted.

What did Karamatsu really want?

He…

He wanted to stay. He wanted to stay!

But not if the others wanted him to leave…

Why did this all have to be so complicated. He just wanted everyone to be happy. That is all he wanted. He was beginning to hate himself even more for making that impossible.

If only he were someone else, if only-...

Wait. Someone else? Someone else…

He knew how he felt about his family. He loved them unconditionally. He would do anything for them. He would die for them. Of course, sometimes fear made him forget that (sorry, Choromatsu), but he would! But they didn't love him the same. They tolerated him.

Osomatsu. He tolerated him so well. He'd even started to become immune to the broken ribs Karamatsu would unintentionally cause. He'd encouraged Karamatsu. But wouldn't it be easier if he just...didn't cause broken ribs?

Choromatsu. He seemed to be on Karamatsu's side. But he called him Kusomatsu, too. Imagine if he wasn't Kusomatsu, but rather, someone better? Someone Choromatsu didn't have to reprimand, or someone he just liked having around?

Ichimatsu. He would love for Karamatsu to be different. He hated him so much. No matter how hard he tried... Wouldn't he much prefer never having to bother with Karamatsu ever again? Wouldn't he rather…

Jyushimatsu. He loved everyone. Surely though, even he would prefer a big brother he could actually look up to.

And Todomatsu. He disliked all of his big brothers, but even he set Karamatsu apart as 'Kusomatsu-niisan'. Sure, he added the honorific, but he always did, unless he really, really needed to get a point across, which was rare. Imagine if he had a Karamatsu-niisan he actually liked!

The best option was making itself clear.

To please himself, he should stay. He loved his brothers. He wanted to stay!

But if they didn't love him as well, well then… He just wouldn't come back. Not as himself. He would come back as someone new. Someone entirely different.

It was perfect! Everyone could have what was best for them! He could go home, and they could be rid of him!

Not only that, they could have someone new! A brand new family member that they didn't hate!

He'd drop his Perfect Fashion that he knew they all hated (though for the life of him he couldn't understand why, that didn't matter.) He would speak less, drop the extensive vocabulary. Speak only when necessary, only as much as necessary. As it was, he really didn't talk too much, but when he did he apparently didn't know when to shut up. He would get rid of his prized mirror. Of course he loved it, but it was one of the things he was made fun of for, always looking into it.

Oh, his mirror. He'd had his first one for so long, and he looked into it for so many reasons. To practice facial expressions, to make sure he looked good (he was starting to believe he never really did. Maybe he should do something about his eyebrows. He had always been so proud of them, how they always seemed so perfectly groomed with minimal effort, but maybe they were also a problem), to nervously play with his fringe without drawing attention to the fact it was nerves, to have silent conversations with himself as he often did, oh, he loved that single cheap mirror so deeply. Had he ever actually thanked his mother for getting it for him? She had only gotten it for him so he would stop hogging the bathroom to practice for drama club, but he should have thanked her by now. Maybe thanked his brothers for not intentionally shattering it.

He'd bought his new one himself after Todo-... er, after his other one had been unintentionally broken. Of course, he blamed no one! It was an accident. Right? ...Right?

Okay, he'd get rid of it. Put it away, not toss it. He couldn't handle it being broken, if he were being entirely honest with himself.

His clothes. His leather jacket, his favourite belt, his sparkly pants, his wonderful shorts, his tank tops, all of his fashion that his brothers had complained about, he'd store it all away. He couldn't bring himself to be entirely rid of it yet. He loved it all. Yeah, he knew some of it looked like trash on him (maybe all of it did, but he didnt view it that way), but he still loved his sense of fashion. But even he knew how to turn it down. He knew he was extra, but if he had to minimize his fashion sense to appease the masses, he would. He'd stop casually showing his nipples too.

Shut up. Dress well. Be invisible. Don't fuck up. He could do that. That's what the others wanted, right?

He could do this. He could! He could reinvent himself, become someone else! Oh, his brothers would be so happy! Losing an inconvenience and gaining a welcomed commodity.

With a broken and empty smile, he turned around. He began heading back towards home. He knew his idea would work. It would take effort, but, as he always said, anything for his beloved brothers.