15 years ago
Sakurazuka Setsuka's Mansion, Tokyo
Ever since becoming an elementary school student in Tokyo, Kanazawa born Seishirou had changed his calm demeanour into one nagging—albeit demurely—wayward son in the span of one week; until his homeroom teacher felt the need to put Seishirou in another class, all alone, throughout the final semester exam.
It's only yesterday that Seishirou dumped a rat carcass in his schoolmate's locker, in exchange of having his own locker filled with stack of papers bearing dozens kind of insults about his young and wealthy mother. Unbeknownst of the latter incident; his amused father Sanosuke thinks it must come from being an only child, a wild guess to which his mother helplessly agrees, only for them to find something entirely different comes out of Seishirou's mouth on Setsuka's latest arrival at home.
"Why bother coming back? You've never been home, Mom," spats an apathetic Seishirou, amber eyes blazing sets on her challengingly.
While Setsuka somehow knows she deserved that, she never expects herself to be welcomed by such raw "confession" coming from her usually amiable son. After all, the never-ending out-of-town jobs her family demanded her has paid the bill, and being his mother, Setsuka knew enough that Seishirou should've at least tried to understand her frequent absences by now. Still...
"What is wrong with him?" Setsuka asks incredulously to Sanosuke, who then sends her a cheeky smile. He tapped Setsuka's shoulders lightly before he took her cloak off.
Nonetheless Setsuka tries once again, "Seishirou... we've talked about this, have us? So I think I'm going to forget what you just said..." to which Sanosuke flinches beside her.
"..."
"Aw... okay, I'm sorry; could I at least get a hug? I've missed you too, Kiddo."
His mother's soft tone finally turned Seishirou's head. Both his parents still standing on the doorstep, he quickly eyed his father with silent plea, and then he dashed off the living room, leaping from the opened windows in his bedroom to somewhere his parents wouldn't know.
Sanosuke and Setsuka still enter his room, though.
There, lain on his desk, they see pieces of shattered glass scrambled over an empty picture frame.
Present Time Shinjuku district, Tokyo
The Sumeragis' condo is rather... comprehensive, to say the least. If it wasn't for the brightly lit lobby and wide hall of the apartment building, this condominium that's made of squeaky clean black and white kitchen, an actual spacious living room, two bathrooms, three bedrooms, and a dressing room—not to mention that every rooms are already complete with its appliances, furnishings, supplies; all styled precisely in Keiko's order—would certainly made no difference to that of a minimalist house.
Subaru glance around as he gingerly follows his excited twin. "...well, marrying a Sumeragi does have its perks!" and that voice belongs to his mother, awkwardly keeping up an intrusive question from a bellboy trailing behind. Both adults are also bound up with suitcases, some trunks, Subaru's pillow, and whatnots to be able to see Subaru's restless gestures upon entering the premises.
"What's wrong, Subaru?"
Arriving on a crimson carpet in the living room, he looked up and turns his head right toward Hokuto, who had taken a seat on a white leather sofa. She sat there cross legged under knee length purple skirt, facing him whole. Subaru's body remain in facing the kitchen, an LED TV standing proud in front of Hokuto, across his shoulder.
They looked at each other, and found that afternoon humid weather on their trip gave their fluffy cheeks a pair of similar pink hue, along with locks of wet hair from sweaty foreheads. For once Subaru's assured he can give up to the familiar feeling of looking into a mirror.
"Come on, Subaru. Pitch it on me."
Subaru cleared his throat, breaking any eye contact. He frowns and asks himself where should he begin now? There're too many racing thoughts any proper or clear sentences are lost to him.
He knows he can't feel more grateful to have Hokuto in his life, but honestly, now that the distraction's gone and Hokuto's safely back into her composed self, Subaru can fully admit he's just not as ready to move out of hometown as he thought he was... now can he? He ignore the changing shape of his guilt rising rapidly in his gut, all the while managing to push himself deeper onto the shimmers of round brown eyes fixed only at his emerald ones, so willing and ready to take in every teeny tiny wound he's going to share. It won't be that bad, her eyes tell him.
Oh if only she can really read his mind.
"For three days and two nights, I've only slept for six hours in total."
Hokuto's agape, "What?" and before Subaru can do anything; a forming headache got the best of him. His tongue rolled faster than his blurry mind could wrench; "and how on earth did you know I was looking at that guy, Hokuto-chan?"
"Hokuto, Subaru!"
"Yes, Mother?" the twins answers in unison.
"It's time for dinner!"
Rising from the sofa, thus entering their mother's sight, Subaru can see Hokuto's rapid blinking—in response to his last question—ceases casually then and there. Walking a step behind Hokuto, Subaru gulped down a disturbing lump in his throat. He knew Keiko could hear his question. The kitchen is not that far from where the twins were seated, more importantly, Subaru has watched her with his peripheral sight, moving warily back and forth since he began talking to Hokuto. She wasn't even as affected as Hokuto... but why?
He's been losing weight, tells the hanging frameless mirror aside his bedroom door. He's been losing sleep, whispered the growing throbs in his head. Underneath Subaru's tremor ridden fingers, creaky window panes amenably herded summer breeze inside, forbidding any late night wont left in him—because to keep standing there watching the smoggy, starless midnight sky should help him quench this strange predicament. Or so he thinks.
Slumping on his bed, Subaru tried to dodge the questions already swirling within, triggered by a honking truck and squeaky car brakes from so far below. Lying on his back, the stale ceiling opens yet another sleepless drowse.