7. Scars – Papa Roach

Hebereke Jounouchi stood in the doorway and trembled – not in any sissy way, but with pure rage.

"You're not going."

Fuseiseki kept stuffing clothes into a suitcase. On the bed, Shizuka sat cross-legged, a blanket wrapped around her as if to shelter her from the force of her parents' argument.

"Fu -"

"You can't stop me."

"I … I wouldn't … Shit, Fuseiseki, please -"

"Don't you dare use that kind of language in front of our daughter!"

"Because you don't want me setting a bad example for her?" The rage reared up like a terrible beast inside him. "I think their mother fucking another guy behind her husband's back pretty much has that covered."

Fuseiseki stopped and stared hard at him, brown eyes narrowed. He used to think her eyes were soft as melted chocolate. He was pretty sure he wrote it in one of those god-awful poems her sent her back in college, actually. Now, however, they were hard and assessing – and hurt. He'd hurt her when he said that.

Well, fine. She'd hurt him too.

"I'm leaving," she said, the barest hint of a tremble in her own voice. She zipped the suitcase shut and yanked it by its handle. It wasn't even half full. "And I'm taking the kids with me."

"Oh no you're not -" Hebereke took a step into the bedroom, but she held the suitcase in front of her like a shield.

"Don't you come near me! Don't you touch me!"

What? She was acting like he was the bad guy. He'd never hurt her, not like that.

Except that hurting her was exactly what he'd wanted to do when he found out. He'd wanted to tear both of them limb from limb – his loving wife and her boyfriend. The weight of the desire was like an iron band around his chest, and it frightened him a little, that he was capable of such hatred and such love at the same time. Because he still loved her. As much as he never wanted to see her again, the thought of her leaving just about killed him.

Hebereke frowned, fists opening and closing by his sides. "This isn't … what I wanted."

"It's not what I wanted, either, but it's how things have happened." Still keeping the suitcase between them, Fuseiseki edged to the bed and fumbled for Shizuka's little hand. "Where's Katsuya?"

"How should I know?"

"He's out with Hiroto, Mommy," Shizuka said helpfully.

She wouldn't wait for him. "I'll be back for him. Later. I will. I'll be back for all our stuff. So don't you …" She opened and closed her mouth, then turned her face away, eyes squeezed shut as if in pain. "Come on, honey."

"Where are we going?"

"To Grandma's."

"But she smells like wee and her cat hates me."

"Fuseiseki, wait -" Hebereke caught her arm on the way past.

She didn't shout at him not to touch her this time, but she refused to look at him. Her throat bobbed and she seemed on the verge of tears, until she closed her eyes and sucked every little tick out of her face and posture. When she opened them again a stranger looked back at him – someone blank and totally unlike his passionate Fuseiseki. "I don't regret anything," she said, voice hard and cold.

Instinctively, he let go of her arm.

The front door banged shut. Seconds later a car engine roared.

Hebereke sank into the armchair in the living room and stared around their moth-eaten apartment. It wasn't pretty, wasn't even nice, but it was theirs and they'd been happy here – or so he thought. Fuseiseki had made it worth coming home for after each crappy day at his crappy work, doing crappy things and being yelled at by his crappy boss – ten years his junior but with Asshole enough for both of them. He'd lived for her. The kids, too, but they'd both been accidents he was told were happy ones, and in the end it'd always been Fuseiseki first.

"Why?" Hebereke asked, pressing his face into his hands. Eventually he got up and fetched himself a beer from the fridge. It morphed into two beers, and then six. By the time Mrs. Honda dropped Katsuya off, Hebereke could barely see straight and squinted at his son, who seemed to have shrunk to just a pair of brown eyes.

"Dad?"

"C'mere, you." Hebereke wrapped Katsuya in a clumsy, foul-selling hug, ruffling his hair. "I love you kid."

"I saw Mom and Shizuka when Honda and I were at the playground. Where did they go?

His rage stoked up again, making him tighten his hug until Katsuya squeaked in pain. "Away. Your mother's … gone."

"When's she coming back?"

"Forget her; it's just us guys now." And I'm never letting you go, Hebereke thought, looking into his son's eyes and both loving and hating what he saw in them. His fists opened and closed again; a reflex that would come to be habit as time went on – as would his coping mechanism for living with a constant reminder of what he'd lost. "Fetch me another beer from the fridge, will ya?"

A/N: I am by no means an expert, since I use internet translators, but 'Hebereke' is Japanese for 'drunk' and 'Fuseiseki' means 'failure'.