His voice croaked as she watched him sit up. A bundle of blankets bounced repeatedly against her chest. No matter how much he begged to every god he thought of in existence, just for a few more seconds to be left in peace, the heavens just wouldn't budge.
It's the eighth time she's forced him awake within a single night.
Len looked around.
The spot on the futon where a baby usually occupied is empty as if it had never touched, save for a small sock on the blankets that must've been kicked off in her sleep.
When Rin noticed the state of his consciousness, or lack thereof, the young lady clapped a hand onto his cheek to prevent a coming slumber. A curse came beneath her breath, warning him to listen to her if he ever wants to sleep again. So with dread pulling at his ankles, he questions her on the matter.
Her answer comes out in a flurry of words.
"I don't have enough milk. She's hungry. You know if she starts screaming, she won't stop for ages.. my feet is cold and I think I'm getting my monthly and ー "
Mirai sounded a fuss to interrupt, only to be hurriedly silenced by her mother's shushing. Len blinked again, once, twice, then shook his head again to keep a dream from taking over his mind. "There's still some..." He can barely remember the word. "... porridge in the.."
"-No, there isn't," The younger blonde cut in, lips lowered. She's already getting impatient with him. "We finished that yesterday."
"Mint biscuits?"
"She can't have those."
Not for the baby.
Obviously he's not stupid enough to need reminding, even with his head like this, but the better part of him keeps any retorts to the back of his throat. He stretched over for the bag beneath the piano stool, digging in search of the snack, only to go numb when he couldn't find anything save for an empty package they'd forgotten to throw away.
Right.. they'd finished that just the other night too.
Apprehension hit him in the back of the head, as if it were a chunk of ice, but when he turns around, he finds nothing to be there. The younger blonde folded her feet into her lap, "My throat is about to die. And my stomach. If I move she'll just start ー "
The hearth in the corner crackled the last of it's energy, and he couldn't help but feel his own life falter when he saw the fire running on it's final life. "ー screaming again. I know. You want water?"
"Yes, please..." His eyes softened, and he reached over to kiss her temple. "Mm..."
It took every effort to push his entire weight by the palms to stand on his own two feet.
He went to check for anything in the kitchen to soothe her complaints, only to discover half a mug left of water from the kettle. He quickly poured every last drop into a mug before returning across the hall to offer the drink.
The young lady took it into her own hands all too gratefully.
She took a small sip to make sure it was cool enough to not burn her mouth, following with a larger gulp.
He suddenly couldn't stop thinking about how parched he felt himself. Rin must've noticed, because she stretched over to offer him the remaining quarter of the drink.
"I'm good," The lie rolled off his tongue, as easily as the spread of butter across a knife.. "There's more in the kitchen. I could just get it myself."
Len bit his tongue to rid the last of his doziness before pointing a thumb over his shoulder, signaling he was going to get ready in the bathroom and fetch groceries to last for the night. She couldn't look as Mirai's renewed sobs began into another shrilling cry.
He's weighted with guilt at the idea of leaving them alone, but right now, a choice just wasn't in the question.
/
/
/
/
He doesn't like travelling alone.
He's never liked being alone.
But midnight, taking the last train back home because he had to take a journey far out into another district since there's hardly any stores going to be open this late other than those either within or nearby the capital city, he finds he has no choice but to hop on, hold onto the handlebars tight, even although there isn't a single seat within his proximity that's occupied.
An empty cart like this reminds him of one he took with his mother a few nights before she passed away.
A sour taste is left in his mouth when he realises he's allowing himself to think about her. That woman. Her.
Before he knows it, there are goosebumps riding up his arms. He stares at himself in the reflection of the glass window. It's cold, and he doesn't smile.
But he can't help but wonder what it would look like if he did. Without even trying it out, he begs every god that his smile shares a resemblance with someone, anyone, else. As long as it isn't her.
They're asleep when he finally returns home, the walls peaceful as if it had never heard the sound of a cry.
He dives his thoughts into something else, like cherry blossoms and the lush of leaves in spring.
He reaches over a hand to shake the young lady awake, say he's brought back a meal for her to eat, but when he sees her so settled into the wooden floor with one palm resting on the sleeping child's chest to feel a steady rise and fall, he finds he doesn't have the heart to break the serenity.
The blond does nothing more than to caress his fingers gently through her hair, then lift her head onto his lap where she'll be comfortable until dawn.
He whispers sweet nothings into the air, but they never reach the ears of any but his own.
/
/
/
/
The rain is gentle, as if the calm before the storm won't ever come. Not if the storm itself is like the caress of a a woman's hand to her lover's cheek.
A sharp voice breaks his thoughts, and he's forced to burst out of his shell and step into reality. The air is suddenly much more than thicker than he remembers, but he acts as if it doesn't bother him the slightest bit.
It's been three days since he'd come back to attend classes, though that wasn't his primary intention at all. He just didn't want rumours to pass around if he was seen walking in town during school hours without a guardian, even if his father doesn't question him as much as he'd been expected to.
Still, that's another problem in itself.
He can't go on ages lying about how he was spending every day at Fukase's house when people barely see him with that boy outside of school.
Then again, that's only because he himself isn't seen anywhere anymore.
The cloudy skies slip through the gaps in the curtains, and he can hear the clap of a storm somewhere in the distance. The movie loaded up on the laptop began to buffer, and while both of his friends huddled closer on the rug towards the small table, he was edging himself to the corner of his bed where he could focus on finishing his schoolwork.
I'll be back by Sunday, he said.
Sunday, Sunday, Sunday...
It's already Sunday. His friends are insisting to spend the weekend at his house, and he's fretting over unfinished schoolwork and visions of a mountain and blooming trees and soil in desperate need of flowers...or rather, the people he'd left there all alone.
By now, a perfect half of his life is built entirely on lies.
The blond sank deeper into his bed, throwing his book face-down and covering his head with a pillow where he could let out some unheard screams.
Breaking the rain money jar is the only option if he wants things to go smoothly this week. They're running out if supplies, fast, and he's not getting any more allowance until the end of the month. He'd rather cut into an open wound on his chest rather than take Rin's money again.
He's got pride, maybe more than anything else, and responsibility is the only thing shouldering that from harm.
/
/
/
/
He can hear the familiar noise of the small water pond, the fountain dripping, right as the focus of his ears are redirected to a loud swing of the front door. He finds an older blond looking back at him, cloudy blue eyes though only two years his senior in age, the formerly rose tint of his hair gone unseen after a recent trim.
He's about to comment on it, only to realise that would be unnecessary and stall him from what he came here to do.
But he's distracted again, just as usual, when he sees an abnormally large white cat perching on Yuuma's arm.
Oh. Len instinctively narrows his eyes. He knows who this cat is.
"Could you not glare at Mister Poochkins?"
"Mister ー Mister what?"
"Mister Poochkins doesn't like too much attention, alright?"
What an awful name. He's lucky that he hadn't said that out loud, or else he doubts Yuuma would be stepping aside to allow him entry, much less let him stay on the very same premise without begging on his hands and knees.
Len couldn't help but step through the frame with a bit of a shiver. A quick skim over the shoe rack proves that there's nobody else in the building except for the two of them, just as promised, so a large chunk of his hesitation took a leap out the window and flew into the wind.
The remaining wariness still stands, however, cautious as ever.
One hand runs across the cream walls for support as he kicks off his school shoes, and his eyes trail along the photo frames, finding school certificates one after another but not a single trace of a family photo even above the television set.
A sudden gust of cold wind floats in through the open windows, while the home heater doesn't seem to be working at all. At this point he'd be more comfortable with jumping into a bonfire than trying to stay indoors. Len tightened the blazer around his body. His mind drifted to last weekend, where his method of keeping warm, second to sitting by the fireplace, was to steam his face over an infant's rice porridge. He'd lift a scoop, let the scent of rice waft over his skin, then wait for an impatient wail before sacrificing the plastic spoon to her mouth.
Many of those attempts ended up with the rice being splattered back into his face.
They head up the stairs soon enough, the feline jumping to the ground and leading the way. It's the first time he enters the bedroom across from Rin's, and it's found to be nearly spotless, with only one stray article of a scarf hanging over the bed
The younger boy had his eyes land on a frame lying on the wooden workable, or rather the photo encased in it; a little girl donning rosy cheeks with a grin that stretched to her eyes, tufts of blonde curls falling around her face.
That star-kissed gaze reflected through the camera was uncomfortably familiar, like he'd seen it somewhere before. He stretched out to grab it, just to take a closer look, but Yuuma was faster to turn it flat, face-down.
"Don't get ahead of yourself, Kagamine. I'm not here to bring you on a little field trip... only to bring you what you asked for last time."
Yuuma got back to his knees to dig beneath the bed, so Len reached towards the frame again when he thought he wouldn't be caught. The blond's hand was quickly whacked out of the way until the photograph was stretched out of arm's reach, ending him with nothing but a spoiled opportunity and the weight of regret.
It's not like he was planning to do anything wrong. Just have a little look. His frown came with an opinion, as if he doesn't know any better, and he continues not to. "That looks like Mirai."
"It's not."
"Well, obviously, Mirai's a baby."
The picture is aged by ten years at the very least, coated with dust, visibly older than an infant.
Len peered curiously to where the frame was being held away. Once realising that a demand wouldn't get him anywhere, he softened his gaze into something pleading, much like that lost puppy look a particular young lady often uses on him to get things done her way that hapens without fail, every, single, time.
It seems this was a success for himself as well.
Yuuma gritted his teeth as if to fight with the feelings of guilt, hesitating, then finally set it on the table with a show of defeat.
The younger blond couldn't help but sigh when he got to grasp that frame in his own hands, admiring the picture as the other male went back to dig beneath the mattress.
He could see white pearls decorating the girl in the picture. Her hair shaped with a headband, telltale thin upper lips accompanied by a plump bottom stretched to both corners with deep dimples. The sight of her nose blossoms red, and he couldn't help but point out every striking resemblance from the clouds of her eyes to the chubb of her cheeks.
His mind drifts to whether his daughter will look exactly the same once she's older... as if she wasn't already a perfect duplicate as she is now.
Might as well go back and see the real thing. It barely looks like that young lady has aged a day, anyway.. not with the permanent baby fat in that face. His head whirred when he was shaken at the shoulders, called out by his name. "...?"
"I'll let you take a picture." Yuuma scowled. "With your camera. That's it. I'm not letting you have the only copy, so you've better act quick before I take back my word."
Len didn't have to think twice about digging into his pocket for his phone. He was busy checking the quality when a large bag of plastic was heavily shoved into his arms with no warning whatsoever, nearly choking him to the brim. His phone dropped in the process but that could be worried about afterwards.
He didn't even have the opportunity to ask any questions through the weight and dust collected from being under the bed.
A quick search of the contents confirmed that the bag was entirely full of small dresses, some with cotton and silk and frills at the perfect size and some even larger. Pictures of that pretty blue dress flashed through his mind. It wouldn't be the same, but...
"This is what you asked for, isn't it?"
"Oh. Yeah," Len agreed, breathless, "Yeah, I did. Thanks so much."
He'd nearly forgotten. Or rather, he hadn't thought the request would actually be fulfilled, especially when it was an afterthought worded on the tip of his tongue rather than anything else. The young man dropped to his knees, trying to shove the clothes into his slingbag between a file of books. The aftermath became a large bulge of leather that looked as if a single prod would make it explode.
"They're Rin's old ones, there aren't many. I found them by digging through the storage, along with a bunch of other things ー they haven't been touched for years so remember to put everything in the wash before you even think about using them."
A sudden thought holds him back.
Len chewed his tongue. "Won't she.. won't she recognise them?"
"These are from when she was a child. She won't recognise anything... there aren't many pictures of her to recall them by, anyways." Yuuma waved any hesitation away. "If she wonders where you got these from.. just say it's from one of your friends."
"Alright."
"Don't get me wrong, I'm only helping you out because I want my sister back."
It doesn't bother him at all, even if that was the truth. Not that he doubts it.
But he didn't have to be told twice.
/
/
/
/
/
The first thing that greets him as he steps through the open door is a blur of white.
He's taken aback at first, going numb from his shoulders to his toes at the thought that those ghosts Rin insists existed had actually been the truth instead of childish taunting. Darimg himself to look down, however, he finds that very same young lady with her head nestling beneath his chin, cheek red as the sun. He almost dropped the plastic in his hands.
The walls are orange, and it's warm, kissed by the last rays of daylight.
Her arms are wound tightly around his back, pulling their bodies together so suffocatingly he wasn't sure how much more could be handled until they became mashed into one.
"You're late!" Her voice muffled into his shirt. "Mmmpff.. you said Sunday!"
He forced distance between them by pushing back her shoulders, so she resorted to forcing her palms into fists and hitting them against his chest. "That's an- ow, a pretty dress, I've never seen you in white before."
She looked up with those lovely star-struck eyes, about to melt at the compliment ー she always did act so strongly over the simplest things ー only before realising she was allowing his words to get the better of her emotions. She locked up the previous pleasantries and forced her face to turn glum.
He knocked off his shoes before stepping onto the platform, the beat in his heart from running all the way home relaxing the instant he saw that same small lump asleep on the futon, thick lashes settled nicely against cherub cheeks. His fingers itch to come over and run across them, but his limbs are weak from his journey.
"Sunday!" Rin tugged his arm, forcing the spotlight of attention onto herself. "Sunday! Do you know what day today is?"
Friday.
Len decided to bluff. "Thursday?"
"That's right, Thursday!"
Well, alright then. Fifth day of the week it is.
He can't help but wonder whether, despite those perfect grades in arithmetic, she barely knows how to count when it comes to something outside of an exam. For the sake of morbidity, however, he decides not to correct the young lady and leave the date unsure instead of hanging a calendar on the wall.. it's more entertaining for him this way.
He wasn't too worried anyway, he'd left enough food in the storage to not feel so antsy when he was away, and he's confident there's still a few rations left to last at least another week
The only reason he's come back so late, just before the sunset, was because had to get some.. supplies he thought they'd need tomorrow night.
Len brought a finger up to his lips, signaling her to quiet down to prevent disturbing the baby.
"I don't care how loud I am," The blonde responds, but lowers her voice anyway, The hall is so quiet you could hear a pin drop from across the room. She continues with a whisper, "Otherwise you won't listen to me when I speak. You never even apologise, I'm not sure why I bother with you."
He'd be lying if he wasn't the least bit affected by her words. "Fine... I'm sorry."
He means it, but she claims to have every single sense of the world,, even from the sixth to the seventh, and she deducts that the apology isn't genuine at all. And she's already decreed that in this house, her word is the only law.
She frowns at him, shakes her head as if she were disappointed, and the young man can't help but find that to be more impacting than if she were to say anything at all.
Len tugged his lip between his teeth, figuring what to do to melt her into him, and his first move was to tilt her chin up between two of his fingers to break away a solid stare towards their feet and force her to meet him in the eyes.
"You almost missed her birthday..." Her gaze is the usual storm in the sky, pale and bright and glimmering all at once. "Do you even know when...?"
"I know," He interrupted, caressing a soft cheek with his thumb. "... I know."
He wouldn't forget. He'd forget anything, but not that.
His chin is suddenly tugged downwards, and he's sure he would've been much more intimidated by the action had it come from someone a head taller than him rather than a girl that weighs seventy pounds. She tries to seem larger than him, pursing her lips and narrowing her eyes, but he can't help but resemble her likeliness to a small rabbit.
But he knows if he laughs, she'll be angry even more, and he's already reached the limit of finding ways to dissipate this young woman's anger.
"Apologise again."
"What?"
"Apologise, Kagamine Len."
At this point he's not sure why he questions any of her orders anymore.
If her words are law, his lips are sin.
It burns his tongue to speak, but he does, because as soon as he utters the word in obedience, he can see a smile threatening to brim on her cheeks. "Sorry."
"Louder." She commands, visibly pleased. The corners of her mouth is already curled upwards, he can see her struggling to hold it back.
"Sorry," He repeats, but it's not any louder at all. He'd rather not risk ruining their daughter's slumber, no matter how happy he could get Kagamine Rin to be. "I'm very, very sorry. Forgive me."
It was luck that she decided to stop. "Cosider yourself forgiven. But don't make the same mistake twice."
"Yes, Ma'am."
Rin steps away, satisfied. She doesn't look back as she leaves the hallway, bounding towards the kitchen with a skip in her step. He can hear the echoes of her humming all throughout the house, but the elder blond decides not to react with anything more than a relenting sigh.
not sure if anyone's around anymore, sorry for the hiatus! these few months have been harsh and chaotic, i'm struggling to pick up the pace.
