I do not own anything.
Whelmed beneath her blanket, the teenage girl drowned in her self-deprecation. Since the curtains, usually pulled back, were blocking out any sunlight the setting sun could bring; the lack of light drained the room of its usual heart-warming feeling. Under the dim lighting, the bright pink that resembled Amu's hair dulled to a fuchsia. The entire room spoke for her silent sobs.
She hadn't remembered much after… that incident. She could remember the heavy, tolling steps up the Tsukiyomi's porch and the anguish of loss wash away the beaming happiness on Souko's face. She could remember her body crashing into the comfy blankets of her bed. Her body had maneuvered the entire way here off habit and pure instinct.
At the threshold of her daughter's bedroom, the mother gazed pityingly and caringly at the heaps of blankets that hid her daughter. The way Amu hid from the world under her blankets reminded Midori of the way Tsumugu hid in the bathroom. They both wanted to hide from the world's pains and troubles, but Midori knew both of them would always come out in the end for the sake of others. Amu was really her father's daughter.
"Amu, dear, do you want to talk about it?" Midori spoke with her smooth mother voice, trying to be calm. The death of Yoru affected her, as well; he had been like a second son to her, but she knew the bond the three of them had were one most people strove for.
"Mama…" Popping her head from the blanket, Amu looked towards her mother for comfort. The mother standing at the doorway cared for her always, but Amu blocked the pain from her face and tried to pass off a smile.
"No, Amu, it's alright. Smiling like that won't help anyone. Do you want me to call Ikuto?" As Midori spoke those words, Amu noticed the aging lines creep beneath her face. Sometimes, children didn't realize how many times they had made their mothers worry.
The sight of Amu's crying face worried the caramel haired woman, increasing the evident age in her face. Amu appeared younger than she had before. Tears were streaming slowly down from her daughter's hopeless wide eyes. Her lips forming a soft pout parted to say the words that would never come out.
"Here's your phone." Midori placed her phone in her hands. "You can decide if you want to." With that, she left the room, shutting the door behind her.
Dead Brother's Girlfriend
"I-Ikuto… Yoru's dead." The image of Amu's tear-stained face burned into the back of Ikuto's eyelids. He wanted to rush over to her and just throw his arms around her, telling her endless words of comfort.
"What do you mean, 'He's dead'?!" Utau screeched into the phone before he could speak. Luckily, the restaurant was empty save for them and the chef.
The words gradually took meaning to Ikuto. He had been focused on Amu and forgotten to listen. Yoru, his little brother, always seemed immortal to him. There were days when the two brothers would joke about Yoru dancing on Ikuto's grave, whenever Ikuto climbed higher than his sore loser brother.
"Are you alright, Amu?" Ikuto fought to keep his voice level and to keep back the tears burning at the back of his throat. Unlike Ikuto's struggle to remain a man, Utau let her tears run free and wild. Lulu sat there, agape. Lulu was different from Utau and Ikuto. She didn't know how great of a man Yoru was and never even met him before.
Amu ignored his question and answered Utau, "Yoru… was in a motorcycle accident. I watched him burn under rubble. I'm so sorry I couldn't save h-him." Amu swallowed a hard gulp and choked down her sobs. "He would have been perfectly f-fine. He jumped off the motorcycle before it c-crashed into the van's windshield… A woman told me he rushed back in to save her daughter, but by the t-time he unstrapped her seat belt, the fire only allowed a child-sized person to p-pass… I'm so very s-sorry." The pink haired damsel pulled the phone away slightly, as she sobbed into her pillow.
"Amu, it's not—" The line went dead as Utau slammed her hand on the end call button. Ikuto shot her a sharp, murderous look, but she returned his with one as well.
"Why'd you—"
"You were about to tell her it wasn't her fault." Utau hissed, standing up abruptly and slamming her hands on the table.
"Because it's true. She didn't plan on his death, now did she?" Ikuto's voice rose higher.
"You're always like this, Ikuto. The one you're probably blaming is yourself, but it's not you. It's her." Utau sighed.
"You're just trying to find someone to blame." Ikuto growled.
"Hey, guys, we shouldn't be arguing right after Yoru just died, right?" Lulu tried to quell the anger, but Ikuto and Utau just glared at each other, until Utau spun on her heel and left the store.
"You know it isn't your fault, right?" She tried to comfort him. Her hand rested on his, but he pulled away from her touch.
"If you're going to try to comfort anyone, go find someone else. I'm going to Amu." Ikuto's face remained a stony look that shut her out. Lulu knew it well. It had taken her weeks to finally make him smile, but even then, he only smiled at the thought of Amu.
"Amu's not going to comfort you, but I can," Lulu cried out desperately after him.
"I never asked you to do that." Ikuto stepped out into Tokyo's autumn chill.
Thanks for reading.