Chapter 2:
Yukiteru wiped the blood that had formed with the impact of the water fountain, his thumb shakily examining the wound at the corner of his lips. That's gonna leave a bruise.
He winced watching the group of bullies walk away, off to 'better things' as they smugly put it.
His hair tussled with the insistent tugging and favorite hat nowhere in sight. Not here. This school prestige was with the flawless conduct of its students, he couldn't report his harassment, he was okay with it.
He patted the dust from his pants and white button up, at his right was a cream cardigan, drenched in water and gaping holes. He would just have to save up and buy another.
He eyed the sky crestfallen, he remembered everything, and it was the that reality, the one where he ruined the lives of his family and friends that tortured him.
He didn't deserve anything. His new family were very different from his real mother and father. His aged mother detested even having to be in the same room as him, his father avoided him entirely and just gave him enough for transportation and paying for lunch.
He couldn't complain...even if he wanted to. Life was just too unfair, mercilessly tormenting him with voiceless cooes from his haunting memories, worse were the attacks.
He can't bear to be in crowded areas of the city or anywhere with people for that matter. He would close his eyes and hear the screams of his friends..his mother and father...of Yuno. That's when they came, whenever he thought about the past. The game. He would feel the sweat roll down his shoulders and neck and his arms itched protectively around him. He would fall to his knees and his chest pulsated into life, his voice refused to resound and he would stay frozen, alone, and unnoticed. He began his trek back to his last period class, dabbing the wound with his tongue. He opened the door discovering that his desk was painted in black, the vulgar speech having piled up, Yukiteru didn't care for hygiene at school. He kept his belongings with him at all times, his second week at school showing him that lesson. The whispers ran around the co-ed class and by the last bell he was running tirelessly from the mob of students.
When he arrived home Yukiteru went through the small estates back door, as requested by his parents and set to starting his homework.
His room was nothing special, a large storage room with plenty of windows which on its own expanded the room length.
There were no posters, or portraits. Just a small mirror that cruelly mocked him, a futon that his parents had awarded him after his 12th Summer, a crooked lamp that acted as his only source of light in the evening, two pair of slacks and two t-shirts badly stained, his uniform, some underwear, even scratchy pajamas that he couldn't be happier for, a small bathroom set in the corner with its shower, and one belonging that he refused to associate with.
A battered, cracked, layered in dirt, cell phone.
After the nightmares began Yukiteru avoided the machinery for obvious reasons. He couldn't bear writing anymore diary entries and the mere thought made him sick. Deep down he understood the fear of being in contact with Yuno, she was still out there somewhere, and wished for her to have a real family. Have real friends, fall in love with someone much better than himself, for all of his ghosts to be at peace. Maybe...just maybe they would leave me alone.
A rapture at this door calls his attention. Set at the foot of the door was his dinner, the leftovers of his parents' meal, and a small note. Knowingly he picked up the tray and note, opening the sheet he found a small, but precise message.
Go to the hair salon tomorrow.
He reached up and sighed. Pulling a brunette lock in his fingers he found that the nape of his neck felt warmer, his hair had grown again. He picked at the food scraps and hesitated before reaching across the futon for the phone. He flipped it open, eyes reflecting the white screen, and setting the alarm. He stood up leaving the tray outside of the door and changing into the plain gray pajamas.
He laid down consumed with lethargy and wordlessly into the trance of sleep.
Yukiteru woke before his mother and father tossing on darks slacks and his other unstained t-shirt. He grabbed an orange satchel he held onto since young stuffing loose bills and his phone in the bag after a quick exam of his appearance.
He quietly shut the back door and gate hoping that the elderly neighbors to the side wouldn't pester him with scrutinizing questions, nor wake up both of his working parents.
The salon would open shortly, and he would be able to return home quickly. Popular and one of the only salon in town, the establishment would fill up in the afternoon.
The manager gave him a nod and fumbled with his keys, after a minute the latch was lifted. He brisked behind the owner pointing to the over grown tresses. Yukiteru sat in one of many elevated arm chairs.
He shut his eyes, breath shaky and after some time he pondered if the torment was over. Yukiteru opened his eyes twirling the chair to the clerk desk.
Breathe. BREATHE. H-He's….It's so cold.
The manager was face flat in the ground, scissors displaced in his hands, while a black ball point pen was imbedded deep into the back of his skull. Yukiteru shivered feeling the straining tears rush down his cheek. His grip tightened around the satchel and he fled from the building.
Left. Right. Left. One more turn and he would be home! He is yanked back by his bag strap and slammed into a brick wall.
"Oi, oi, lookie who we have here."
Yukiteru whimpered. The bullies from school. Kensuke, the group leader sneered at his distress, Yukiteru clenched his teeth. Of all the times!
He was dragged back into the street and into an alley. Surrounded he hugged his satchel screwing his eyes shut, God please just make it quick!
Kensuke raised his fist striking down his fist on the ground. He screeched, eyes a blaze. "Who do you think you are!?"
Yukiteru kept his eyes shut, he listened to several shouts and the occasional dumpster colliding with what he assumed was just some stray. What he heard last worried him. "W-we won't forget this!"
The bullies had run off. He observes the gentle patter of steps nearing where he sat, and a laugh. "You can always find those type of characters." The voice stood so close, too close, and just as Yukiteru was to pull away he is held in an iron, awkward, and longing embrace.
Yukiteru's breath hitches and he can feel the tears returning eyes wide open. "A-A-Akise…?"
The boy detective graced the smaller boy with his brightest smile, red orbs softened, "Yukiteru."
Chapter 2: END
A/N: Sorry for the wait, but I am still very much alive and trying to improve my writing, thank you for your interest. Please make my day, I would be honored to hear your opinion!