Wow, thank you for all the reviews so far! It really menas a lot.
Sure enough, the next morning, Kiku awoke to his mother's frantic shrieking.
"K-Kuro, darling, where are you? It's not funny anymore..."
Her shrill voice echoed down the hall, breaking off in misery. Kiku groaned, swinging his legs off of the bed. He felt sick. He'd been hoping that what Sakura had told him was just a dream. He'd been hoping it wasn't real. But wishful thinking never helped.
He could feel ugly, hot tears budding at his eyes as he thought about the ridiculous pain his mother must be going through. First she loses her husband, then her son runs away without even saying goodbye? Kuro was so... so selfish! He only ever thought about himself and never even considered what would happen to Kiku or his mother. He never even thought about them.
Kiku found himself wondering if Kuro actually hated his family that much. Angrily wiping the tears from his eyes, Kiku stood up, feeling dizzy with loss. Why did he already miss Kuro so much? It was hard to explain.
Despite all the terrible words Kuro had said to Kiku, despite all the terrible actions he'd done- Kiku still remembered Kuro's joyful smile, his laugh- his wonderful, bubbling laugh. Kiku still remembered the time when Kuro's eyes gleamed with happiness instead of malice. His mother must be feeling the same way. She must be feeling the same loss.
He didn't want to see his mother's face as she looked to him pleadingly; he didn't want to see that same expression she'd had when his father died. Kiku never wanted to see that agonized face again.
Yet he found himself walking out of his bedroom, in some kind of trance. A part of him wanted to believe that Kuro was still here, that he hadn't left. That he wasn't gone. But his mother's cries of sorrow told him otherwise.
He opened the door to Kuro's bedroom, and saw what he'd expected- his mother kneeling on the floor, hands covering her face, back to him. It broke his heart to see his own mother, his strong mother, fall to pieces before him. He reached forward, wanting to comfort her. No words of comfort came out of his mouth. He had no words to say. There were no words to say.
He watched as his mother turned to face him.
"He didn't even say goodbye."
She whispered hoarsely, choking on her words. Kiku opened his mouth, trying to speak. Trying to say something, anything.
Nothing.
He heard the door open behind him. Sakura walk in, her face knowing. She knelt by her aunt, embracing her.
In Kiku's family, there was always at least one person who Kiku looked up to. At first it was his father- his strong but gentle father, who embraced him constantly and sang to him every night before he went to sleep. When his father grew sickly, it became Kuro that was Kiku's role model- the caring brother who always seemed to have an optimistic outlook on everything. But when Takumi died, however, Kuro shrunk back. Kuro became the darkness in his life, the gaping hole in his chest. It felt like instead of one person lost, there was two. Kiku's mother became strong. Kiku's mother looked over them all, loved them all, and cared for them all. But now? Now, Sakura was the strong one. Sakura wasn't even part of his family. Why couldn't he do anything? Why couldn't he being everyone's ray of optimism? Why was he the one always looking up to people?
Kiku backed out of the room and fled, running outside. It was bright, and there was not a cloud in the sky. The mother of wilderness didn't care anymore, it seemed. Shielding his eyes from the bright light, he sat in the shade of a large oak tree just outside his house. Leaning against the trunk, Kiku closed his eyes, though he could still see the red glare of the sun through his thin eyelids.
Two years.
Two years before Kiku would leave to find his soulmate as well.
Kiku didn't understand why this made his stomach clench with a sickening fear.
Two years later
Marahito Teahouse
"Thank you very much for working with us. I understand you turned eighteen last February, yes?"
Kaoru, the Teahouse's owner, smiled a wrinkled smile at Kiku.
"Oh, um, yes."
Kiku responded awkwardly, fiddling with the hem of his shirt and looking down at the ground apprehensively.
"Well, it was wonderful working with you, dear."
The pretty smiling girl, Mihako, pulled one of the largest smiles Kiku had ever seen.
"I only have one year to go!"
She exclaimed optimistacally, almost bouncing up and down.
"Aaaanyways, that's stupid because it's in the future. My birthday was last month. I can't wait to meet my soulmate, oh, oh, I wonder what he'll be like!"
Kiku suppressed a smile at her enthusiasm. She'd always reminded him distictly of an Italian friend of his that he'd met over the internet. Mihako continued to babble on before Kaoru stopped her.
"Mihako, I think that's enough chatter for now, don't you think? It's well past six, so why don't you start cleaning up around here."
Kaoru suggested gently.
"Oh, okay!"
Came Mihako's eager reply, and she walked- or more accurately, bounced, away to clean up any spills and the like.
"Alright, so you, Kiku, you need to come again, yes?"
Kiku nodded, giving Kaoru a soft smile.
"I will."
He promised, nodding at her.
Then, to his great surprise, Kaoru reached out and hugged him.
"Oh, don't be so formal, Kiku. You've been working here for two years now, I think I deserve at least one hug when you leave."
Kiku laughed. "Okay, alright." He gave in, hugging the elderly woman back in a slightly awkward manner. Kaoru was, however, unable to read the mood. Ever. So, she was unable to sense the awkwardness that seemed to float from Kiku in waves.
Neither was Mihako, because she came bounding to them when she first glimpsed the hug.
"Group hug!"
She shouted, grinning, and flopped her longer arms around the both of them.
It was 6:30 by the time he got back. 30 minutes late. But, he held a cup of warm hot chocolate in his hand. Of course, the hot chocolate was complentary. And of course, the hot chocolate didn't have whipped cream.
His mother greeted him at the doorway, a small frown pulling her lips downward.
"You're late, Kiku. I was beginning to worry."
She said curtly.
"Sorry, mother. I was saying my goodbyes to Mrs. Kaoru and Mihako."
His mother's gaze softened slightly.
"Okay, I suppose it should be alright. Just don't be late agai-"
She broke off when she seemed to remember that Kiku was never going back to work at the teashop. He'd quit, because he was going to be far away in a matter of weeks, most likely. Only if he was very lucky would his soulmate already live close to him. That rarely happened.
"Anyways, Kiku, I need to speak with you about soulmates."
She said, leading him inside after her. Kiku followed her uncertainly, wondering what exactly she was going to be covering. Didn't he already know everything about them? Wasn't he educated enough?
Oh.
This must be the talk the was given to Kuro the night he got his soulmate. They'd only heard from Kuro once since he'd left, and it had been through a text message from an unfamiliar number that read
"Amy Jones
19 Cross Street, Camnden, ST
942-376-0158*"
The ST stood for Stellis, which was a state in the US.**
Everyone presumed that this 'Amy Jones' was Kuro's soulmate. They'd called the number many times, but the only thing that picked up was a lousy recording in English that neither Kiku nor his family could understand.
Kiku snapped back into the real world when his mother sat him down on the couch.
"Kiku,"
She began.
"Please don't leave like Kuro did."
Kiku shook his head.
"I won't."
He responded. He could see his mother visibly relax.
"Good. That's good."
With that, she stood up and left the room, leaving Kiku sitting by himself in the living room.
That night, Kiku lay restless in his bed, excited to change forms with his soulmate.
He couldn't sleep. All he could think about was what she would look like, what her smile would look like, what she would say when they first met in person.
He was certain his soulmate would be female.
I mean, he was straight. So totally straight. Absolutely. There was no doubt about it.
Kiku wiggled around in his bed for a moment, trying to get rid of curiosity that nagged at him.
He could feel his brain slowly but surely shutting off, telling him that he was tired, saying to him that he should go to sleep.
Eventually, that's exactly what he did.