Kuroko was quiet while everyone ate. He had tried to sit at the end of the table, or even removed from it entirely, since the curry had no appeal for him and he didn't want to intrude. But Midorima and Kise had worked together to box him in, and he ended up sitting between them with his bowl of porridge. He kept his eyes on his food, unable to look anyone in the face.
People were talking, but he couldn't hear the words. The majority of his attention was focused inward on the strange shifts and movements he could feel inside his chest. He felt like his inner self was a continent that had suddenly broken up into pieces, and now they were all thudding against each other and seeking a place to settle. It was painful and distracting, but it also seemed necessary. He needed to sort this out. He needed to understand.
How could he have been so selfish? He had never stopped to consider how his friends must feel about this situation. How it must look from their point of view. How it must wound them deep inside.
Kuroko had known, of course, that Kagami and the others cared about him. He had wanted to spare Kagami the distress of worrying about him unnecessarily, which was one reason he had tried to conceal his difficulties in the beginning. But this was different. This was much worse.
With one question, Imayoshi had tilted Kuroko's world on its side.
Would you still think it was normal for a son to be so used by his father?
No. No, Kuroko would not think it was normal. If it was Kagami, or Aomine, or Kise, or...or anyone else. The thought was unbearable, unthinkable. Even with the same mitigating factors, even with a father who was ill, or not himself, or deluded... No. No, it could not be borne.
Kuroko felt hot all over, prickly and uncomfortable. His head spun, and he could not stand to eat another bite of food, not even inoffensive, easy-to-digest rice porridge. He suddenly felt closed in and surrounded by too many people in too close a space.
Kuroko set his spoon down beside his bowl with a clink and stood up, only swaying slightly where he stood. "I...I need some air."
Kagami looked up at him from the other side of the table, his mouth still full of curry. He looked worried, but not like he would try to stop Kuroko. "The balcony is right behind you," he said.
Kuroko nodded and turned to go, then almost ran into Kise, who had stood up next to him. Kise reached out and touched his shoulder as he swayed, keeping him upright, then pulled back when Kuroko steadied. Kise's face was apologetic, but somehow determined. "Is it... Is it all right if I come with you?"
Kuroko nodded. He didn't feel like he could refuse any of his friends anything right now. They had all suffered today because of him. He was only now beginning to understand that.
They moved out onto the balcony. It was early evening, the sun still hovering above the horizon in a bath of warm yellow light, but the air was cool. It felt good on Kuroko's over-warm face, and a breeze combed through his hair with gentle fingers. He grabbed the railing with both hands and leaned into it, grateful for the immovable support.
Kise looked with him over the cityscape. He leaned against the railing, too, even more heavily than Kuroko did, as if he couldn't quite hold himself upright anymore. Kuroko glanced at him out of the corner of his eye and couldn't help noticing how he stood hunched over, as if he was in pain.
Kuroko wanted to apologize, but he didn't know what to say. He had a feeling that Kise wouldn't accept it, anyway. Kagami never did. If anything, Kagami had seemed even more pained when Kuroko tried to apologize for the trouble he was causing him. He didn't want to cause Kise more distress.
"Kurokocchi..."
Kuroko looked up and found Kise watching him frankly, his head turned toward him while his body still leaned on the rail.
"Are you in pain, Kurokocchi? Please be honest with me."
Kuroko looked forward again, his cheeks flushing with more than fever. He supposed he deserved that. He had concealed the truth for as long as possible, but it had all come to nothing in the end. "I...a little," he admitted after a long moment. It was hard to say aloud. "My...my back is sore. And my head is light from the fever. But the air feels good, and the light is pretty. I'm glad to be standing here."
"I'm glad you're standing here, too."
Kuroko lowered his eyes.
The quiet didn't hold for long. It rarely did, with Kise.
"Kurokocchi... Did you... Please tell me... Was this happening to you for all the years we knew each other? Even back in middle school? And we never knew?"
Kise sounded like he was about to start crying again. Kuroko shook his head, though he still couldn't look at him. "Not like this. My father did...hit me. Once in a while." He'd almost forgotten that part until Kagami asked him point blank. Had he really gotten so good at lying to himself? At forgetting facts that he found inconvenient? "But he didn't beat me. Not like this. That part is...new."
Kise drew a shaky breath. "How new?"
Kuroko had to think hard about it. "Three weeks. More or less. The last time was Wednesday night. On Thursday, Kagami-kun came over for a study session. When my father came home, he hit me. Kagami-kun was still there and...he was displeased. So he brought me home with him. He says I'm never going back there again."
"You're not." Kise's voice was low and fervent. "Never again, Kurokocchi. We'll never let you."
Kuroko glanced at him. Kise had slid closer along the railing, but when he saw Kuroko tense up at the proximity, he stopped. Kuroko looked away again, ashamed by the involuntary reactions of his body. He wasn't afraid of Kise. He just...didn't want anyone standing so close, not right now.
"Kurokocchi, this is a lot to ask, but... Would you do me a favor?" Kise's voice was soft and pleading.
"Of course."
Kise huffed out a breath. "Don't agree before you know what it is."
"I'm sure Kise-kun wouldn't ask me to do more than I'm able to."
Kise still hesitated. "You don't have to answer if you don't want to. But if you can, I'd really like you to tell me... What was it like?"
Kuroko's mind was blank. "What...it?"
Kise pulled in a breath. "When your father beat you. I know...I'm sure you don't want to talk about it. But I can't stop thinking about... The things Midorimacchi said... I know he was speaking from his imagination, that he didn't really know what happened, and still... I can't stop thinking about it. So I would very much like to know the truth, please."
Kuroko could feel Kise's eyes on him, warm and golden as the sun they stood in. "What...what did Midorima-kun say?"
"He asked your father how many times... How many times he made you bleed. And cry. And beg for him to stop. How many times he ignored you when you asked for mercy. Your father didn't deny any of it, not in the end. So, please tell me... Are those things true? Did all of that happen to you?"
Kuroko stared over the city, seeing none of it. He no longer felt too warm. His arms and legs felt cold and numb. "The first time it happened, I didn't understand what it was."
Kise went very, very still. He even seemed to hold his breath.
"My father told me to bare my back and kneel on the floor. I did as he said. He was...unstable...and I would do anything to placate him. He said he'd had a vision. I was an unnatural son, but he could cure me. He could make me human. Then he left the room, and when he came back...the strap was in his hand. He said his father had used it on him, and it had made him human. And now he would do the same for me."
Kuroko held the railing so tightly that his fingers began to ache. He could see the floor as he knelt there, feel the sensation of cool air on his bare skin, hear his father pant for breath. He was confused and helpless and very, very frightened. He couldn't move, couldn't speak. He had no words to stop this, to convince his father that this was not the way to cure him. That there was no cure, that his son was perfectly natural as he was, just a little quiet and closed off, and too good at hiding.
"Then he struck me with the strap and...I still didn't understand. It was such a shock. It didn't even hurt at first. I couldn't believe that it was happening, that he was really doing this to me. It didn't seem real. Then the pain started, and... Yes. I cried. I begged him to stop, but he did not. I said that I would do anything he wanted me to do, be anything he wanted me to be, that I would be a good son, a natural son, I would do anything he wanted... I think I was screaming, then. And he just kept hitting me, and hitting me, and..."
He had fallen forward as the beating continued, catching himself with his hands on the floor. His arms shook, barely strong enough to hold him up, and he stared down at his hands, curled against the floor with his nails biting into palms, his eyes blurred with tears, his throat raw with crying, yelling, begging... Had the neighbors not heard? How could no one have heard that? He hadn't learned how to be silent until later.
Warmth touched his cold hand, wrapped tight around the railing, and Kuroko looked down. Kise had worked his way into Kuroko's personal space one careful step at a time, and now his hand covered Kuroko's, warm and strong and trembling just as Kuroko was. Kuroko let go of the railing and turned his hand over, and Kise folded it into his. Kise was very warm and very close, but Kuroko didn't mind now.
"I didn't bleed the first time," Kuroko said. "I couldn't believe it when I checked in the mirror, much later. It felt like I was bleeding from the beginning, it hurt so much. But they were just welts. It was later, when he whipped me again on wounds that had not healed, that I began to bleed. It was never very much. Just a little here and there. I was always able to stop the bleeding and go to school the next day."
"You sound like you're trying to comfort me," Kise murmured. His voice was trembling, too. "Trying to tell me that it wasn't so bad."
Kuroko shook his head. "No, it was bad. It was very bad. It was terrible, and I couldn't make it stop. I could not rescue myself. I didn't even understand that I needed to be rescued."
"I see." Kise's hand tightened around Kuroko's, pressing him close and safe. "And do you...do you still not understand? Do you still think that what he did to you is forgivable?"
"I don't know." This was exactly what Kuroko had come out on the balcony to try to figure out. He lowered his head, staring at Kise's hand clasped around his. "I don't think so. I..."
He floundered. Kise was silent, letting him work through it in his head. The breeze washed over them, carrying the scent of the city, of pavement and dust and blossoming trees.
"I kept thinking..." he said slowly, quietly, for Kise's ears only. "...while I was telling you that, describing what it was like... I kept thinking, as Imayoshi-kun had asked... What if... What if it wasn't me? What if it was someone else? What if...what if it was Kise-kun who suffered such a thing? Would I be able to forgive that?"
Tears were blurring his eyes again. Kuroko lifted his other hand and swiped at his cheeks, but he couldn't stop them from falling. They felt warm, too.
"And the answer is no. Of course not. I could never forgive a thing like that. Never. If Kise-kun...if anyone else... I couldn't bear it, Kise-kun. It was terrible..."
Kise tugged him closer, using their clasped hands as a tether. He tucked Kuroko's hand against his heart, and his other arm wrapped around Kuroko's shoulder and head and drew him down to hide his face against Kise's chest. How did they all instinctively know to hold Kuroko's head like that? He didn't know, but he was grateful. It always felt very nice.
He could feel the pieces of himself settling down inside him, each finding a place to rest, trembling and tentative and delicately balanced. If he felt that this was terrible thing to happen to Kise, then it was also a terrible thing to happen to him. His friends valued him greatly, and he could not disregard that. He could not say that they were wrong, that their judgment was flawed. It might be, a little, but it couldn't be that far off. Kuroko should value himself, too.
Kuroko wasn't used to thinking like this. It was difficult and uncomfortable. But it felt good, too. It felt right. It felt like shining a light on dark and shadowed places, revealing them to be lovely and pleasant, worth showing in the sun.
He only wept for a couple of minutes, this time. These tears were very different than the ones he'd shed before. And Kise accepted it all, standing solid and firm and steady, as if there was nowhere else he'd rather be.