Credits :
kirika o7
The Yaoi MatchMaker
NoahE. Graves
FuyukoAme
LucasZorro
BabyNightmareLady
Rinfantasy
Mizuumi Yoite
Guest
Daygon Yuuki
Mitsuki Izumi
AddictedBxB
mwaheumi
ryu elchan
idklol
Salmon Head
READ THIS :
I'm. . . Sorry. I'm a bad person, making my readers waiting in such a painful arc. Ha. . . Ha. . . It's supposed to be a six-month break before university, it's supposed to be the time when I'm able to write. It's the time I'm supposed to be free. But. . . I don't know. I lost it.
A part of me wanted to write, my hands itching to type my keyboard and end the story all for once. A part of me couldn't, the words didn't come out how I wouldn't and I found myself stuck.
Was it because of pressure? I. . . I don't know. These days, I'm feeling lost. It's a hollow feeling that suddenly makes you feel like you wanna cry, and I. . . Well, I don't know. I'm confused too. But these days, I've been resurfacing old memories and mostly, I'm feeling a lot of remorse.
Well, conclusion-wise, I'm sorry I have to make this chapter short. It was all I could do for now.
I'm. . . Sorry. . .
PS, I never state Tetsuya have any occupation. Maybe I should change it; originally, I planned on making him a freelance author who published at least like one book. Well, yeah, I'm gonna edit everything once it's done anyway.
Love Me For Thirty Days
DAY NINETEEN
Wednesday
.
.
.
"It hurts to let go. Sometimes it seems the harder you try to hold on to something or someone the more it wants to get away. You feel like some kind of criminal for having felt, for having wanted. For having wanted to be wanted. It confuses you, because you think that your feelings were wrong and it makes you feel so small because it's so hard to keep it inside when you let it out and it doesn't coma back. You're left so alone that you can't explain. Damn, there's nothing like that, is there? I've been there and you have too. You're nodding your head."
― Henry Rollins, The Portable Henry Rollins
Imagine this.
Living in different places every week, switching between house number one and house number two, and sometimes you'd be transported to a rundown apartment filled with adult mags and military vests. Perhaps, occasionally, your real home was nothing but a communication with hand languages and listening to phone calls that seemingly disallowed you to speak to your mother.
And sometimes, you'd get a nice attention to a man who worked at home, his life in between making a home comfortable and nice to writing a thick book that you could have never read because you're not able to grasp most words yet. And sometimes, you'd meet with the husband whose eyes seemed cold yet tender when having you in his arms.
It was weird to Sakura, how one day everything seemed happy and the next thing she was facing with shouts echoing in every corners.
It was frightening.
But she kept quiet, sitting stiffly on the kitchen stool in her house number one ― her blue eyes watching her mother with her phone as usual. Somehow that day, her stomach was unable to digest any more dinner even though it came from one of her favourite takeouts but she pushed her udon away and decided it was best to brood in her bedroom.
Sometimes, she wished she has a phone. At the very least, she'd feel at least connected to her chichiue and perhaps she could contact him.
It had been two days and there wasn't any news about Tetsuya yet.
Her bedroom door slowly leaned forward to reveal her mother with those familiar expression which clearly stated ― "Honey, I might be busy again tonight. Would you want to stay with Sei-kun, hm?" ― and the question did popped out.
The child blinked, expecting but somehow disappointed at the truth of her random guesses. Still, it was better than being alone in a rather large space for her, so there wasn't any other excuses to refuse.
"Alright, go on and pack your things then. I'll call your otou-san right away, okay?"
"Okay."
After all, there was nothing she could've done. Nothing her mother could've avoid.
It was for the best.
And she knew, because that was what she had been taught.
But for now, at times like these, she wished she wouldn't have to stay at the Akashi residence at the moment. Seijuurou, by all means, was of course a nice fellow ― if not a tad too stern, even for a young girl, finding him intimidating in some sorts.
At times like these, she yearned for the warmest of the blue, the gentlest of the eyes, and the kindest of hands that often stroke the baby pink tufts too much.
The residence seemed bleak, it grew darker, like shadows creeping from the corners. She shivered, but grabbed her small bag pack nonetheless and smiled to her mother, the best that she could.
"Send my regards to Sei-kun, okay honey?" Her mother said, before planting a kiss on the forehead. Sakura nodded, although meekly and she entered the door which led to the living room of her house number three.
Dark, darker and darkest.
Her third home felt different from the usual vibrant, it changed and morphed into the moodiest of mood; not of a pleasant taste, and for a child, she felt more of a frightened feeling than concern.
"Otou-san. . ." she called out meekly, politely kicking her shoes to the side and stepping to the mid of the space, her little toe was met with a clank ― leading to another clanks ― and she almost stumbled upon the unknown source of the echoing sounds. "Otou-san, where are you?" Her voice became smaller, fear had grasped the audibility of her supposedly vivacious tone.
She bent down to pick up the source of clinks, reading the label from a green glass bottle and upon finding the word alcohol, she knew Seijuurou was up to no good.
"N-No. . ." she searched for the lights, it took her minutes but she managed, and she came to a conclusion ― a sight of more than a dozen bottles of wine. Wine her mother drank when her father had came to a disagreement with her, wine her father wished he could afford than the shit drink she often heard him mutter. "Seijuurou. . ." she whispered, and she dashed to the room.
I don't want to lose yet another family!
She breathed, gasping ― panic.
Kami-sama, give them chances. Give us your grace, your pity, your love. Give us anything, I'm begging you.
A tear rolled down her cherubic cheeks. She opened the door where Seijuurou and Tetsuya sleeps, and gave out a sigh of relief ― a shaky, long draw of breathe ― her legs slumped down and she prayed her thanks that her otou-san was fine.
Physically, at the very least.
There was an exhausted redhead, with ashen cheeks and an unrest expression. Yet, sleeping he did with the coat he wore yesterday and was too bothered to change.
Sakura touched his skin; it was cold and unshaven and dry but she stroked his face, gently and she sat beside him, resting her own cheek against the mattress and she whispered;
"It's gonna be alright. We'll find him soon. We will. . ."
She sobbed a little, but held back the tears.
"We will, we will. . ."
And she chanted the words till she, too, fell asleep.
TO BE CONTINUED
Mozu : I timeskip to nighttime right away, and yes after this I will make the following day but I'll tell flashbacks of what happened in Tuesday. PS, poor Sakura. Fyi, she was scared that Seijuurou might be thinking of something like suicide. How'd a five-year old girl would know this stuff, you wonder? ;) Who knows. . . /chuckles I learnt about suicide and homicide at a young age too, it wasn't me but I. . . Witnessed it.
What do you guys think? X for love, O for hate.
-Mozu The Mochi (2017)