[Evaporation]
i. I want to leave this place, Tsuna says. It is 12 o'clock noon – the sun burns hotly in the midday sky. There is an ice-cold can of soda in his hand, the condensation dripping around and over his skin and around his fingers like wax from a candle. They are sitting under a tree in the park; it's completely empty save for them. He throws back his head and squints up towards the crystal-blue sky hanging above and beyond the emerald-green leaves. There is a patchwork of golden sunlight on his face and clothes. He doesn't mind the blinding light.
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[Parents or Lack thereof Part 1]
parent [pair-uh nt, par-] noun, adjective, verb
A father or a mother
A source, origin, or cause
a faceless pair of people that-
A protector, guardian
did not want him and-
An ancestor, precursor, or progenitor
–returned him like he was some kind of defective object you hand over to exhausted customer service workers to get your money back-
In reference to biology: an organism that produces or generates another
–and he was returned over and over and over and over and-
When used as a verb (with an object or subject): to be or act as a parent of
–over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over…
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[Evaporation]
ii. I want to leave this place, Tsuna says. It is 10:15 am in the morning – the sickly sweet perfume of a snubbed beauty clings to Natsuki's clothes like a growing, infectious mold. They were careless and dropped their guard. Bronze skin and wide shoulders are revealed as Natsuki peels off his jacket and shirt with a sharp frown. They are at a Laundromat hidden behind a maze of walls and buildings. It costs 525 yen to wash his clothes.
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[Deleted Photos That The Sun Used to Keep]
A new house. A crystal chandelier, the lit candles creating arches of fractured light. His black leather boots. Himself dressed in a pressed suit. Himself dressed in a pressed suit with a gorgeous raven-haired girl hanging off his arm – her dress is as red as blood. A litter of kittens. Another new house. The distant ocean from the inside of an airplane. A blue sky. A crowd of well-dressed strangers at a long-forgotten dinner. A selfie taken in a random restroom – his smile is too wide, too perky, too fake. Another new house. The breath-taking landscape of a nearby mountain from the balcony of a high-end hotel. A shaky image of flying birds. Yet another new house.
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[Ownership]
That Boy is not good for you, his parents say one dry summer evening. Their voices are low and reprimanding and there is a sudden buzzing in the back of his mind, a sudden rush of blood in his ears.
He pretends he didn't hear them.
He's going to end up dragging you down, his mother says, one nippy autumn morning, catching him as he's just about to leave the house – a set of keys in one hand and a thick jacket in the other. He's not like us – not like you. You are destined for greatness! You were meant to shine above everyone else! That Boy is meant to stay in the shadows. A slim hand with perfectly manicured nails strokes his cheek. Natsuki, are you even listening to me?
He nods his head but his eyes remain on a hairline crack in the wall.
Your current actions are causing us trouble, his father says, one frigid winter night, from across the dinner table. Dinner is a cut of wagyu steak with steamed potatoes. In order for you to succeed in life, you must be constantly aware of the way you present yourself and be mindful of the connections you have. I heard that you turned down Commissioner Takeda's eldest daughter? Do not forget that we chose you and are raising you to continue our legacy, Natsuki. You owe your current life and lifestyle to us. His father places his silver cutlery down on the table and clasps his hands. Our family has a strict reputation to uphold and an image to maintain. You can continue this… affair with That Boy, but, be more discrete about it. I will have to contact Commissioner Takeda to apologize on your behalf; his eldest daughter would make a fine bride and addition to the family. In the near future, keep in mind that without us, you would have nothing.
He spends a few more minutes in his parent's presence before politely asking to use the bathroom.
He does not return for the rest of the night.
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[Parents or Lack thereof Part 2a]
He's been told that all his life that he's the spitting image of his mother.
Brown eyes. Slim build. Cherubic face. Brown hair.
For the longest time, he was proud of that fact – his mother was the very definition of beauty and grace in his (naïve) eyes and if he could obtain even an iota of that charm and loveliness, then he would be happy, then he could be something to someone one day. Just like his mother was to his nameless, faceless father.
Something changed though.
Somewhere between the first time his gender and identity was mocked by his peers (much too feminine to be a boy and much too masculine to be a girl) and the last time his pretty, wonderful, gentle, and kind mother (lies) crushed the remains of that Thing in his chest that ceased working years ago, something changed.
He wonders if it would be better if that Thing really did stop working.
No one would miss him, after all.
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[Evaporation]
iv. I want to leave this place, Tsuna says. It is 2 o'clock in the afternoon – the sounds of tittering students and the roar of passing vehicles is muffled by the expansive window they are sitting next to. They are getting lunch in a popular café near their school and decide to share a crepe with far too much whipped cream and strawberries and honey and powdered sugar to be considered anything but unhealthy. He ignores the glares emitting from the other customers. The crepe tastes like ash in his mouth.
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[Parents or Lack Thereof Part 2b]
He dreams sometimes – remembers – of a figure as tall and strong as a mountain, of a thunderous, booming laughter, of a warm hand on the crown of his head – grounding and comforting in its weight.
He wonders where that ghostly person went.
He remembers sometimes – dreams – of a life where he has both parents raising him, of a life where he could come home to a soft mother and a sturdy father, of a life where he had someone to look up to and aspire to be.
He wonders when he stopped hoping – praying – for that life to become reality.
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[Evaporation]
v. I want to leave this place, Tsuna says. It is 6 o'clock in the early morning – the curtains are drawn, casting the room in shadows. The radio is on and the sensually smooth rhythm and slow bass cords nearly lull him back to sleep. It is a Wednesday. They both have class in an hour. He, algebra. Natsuki, political science. Three hours later, they are still in bed.
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[written on the last page of a leather-bound notebook – the words are neat and concise, not a single letter out of place]
Everyone says you're not good for me.
They are wrong – I know they are.
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[Evaporation]
vi. I want to leave this place, Tsuna says. It is 3 o'clock in the early morning – the streets are dark and the air is silent. There is an ice-cream cone in his hand purchased from a nearby convenience store. They are sitting on the steps of an abandoned home in the seedier part of town. He drops his head and narrows his eyes as he tears opens the packaging of the ice-cream cone. It's melon-flavored.
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[A Moment]
Tuesday night, the wind rushes pass Tsuna's ears, the motorcycle's engine roars beneath his legs, the heat from Natsuki's back sinks deep into his left cheek. Tsuna opens his eyes and watches the moon reflect off the ink-black sea. The thin line where the sky meets the water is a dark, gaping void that he can't tear his eyes from. It's alluring – a siren's call. He shifts, propping his chin on Natsuki's shoulder.
"Let's go the beach!"
"At this time of night?!"
A smile. "Why not?!"
A grin. "Why not!"
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[Evaporation]
vii. Let's leave this place, Natsuki says. It is 12 o'clock midnight – the stars twinkle and wink mischievously overhead, silent witnesses to their conversation. He's wearing thin, cotton pajama pants and nothing else. There is a packed bag in the corner of his room and a set of keys in his left hand and the echo of freedom and new beginnings in the curve of his lips. It is the dark of night, but his golden eyes glow with all the brilliance and brightness of the daytime sun. Tsuna can't help but fall into Natsuki's arms, whispering a breathless, Yes.
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[Parents or Lack thereof Part 2c]
He realizes that The Sun would miss him – would miss its' Sky.