Chapter Text
The hardest part of when his sister had to leave for hospital stays was when his parents had to say goodbye. Everything was so climatic when it all started at the beginning, and it always ended with Tsukasa alone. It hurt to hear his parents tell him that they loved him as a goodbye. ‘We love you so much’ hurt more than any goodbye, because it felt more like a last-word resort than a ‘see you soon’. The anxiety always died out at the end of the day, always ending with the same conclusion of just laying down and using sleep as a form of break. It could be him staying at a friend's and finally passing out, or at home all alone falling asleep to the silence.
It seemed to hurt worse now.
There wasn’t a reason why it hurt more than it always did. His parents had taken Saki to the hospital for her health when she had felt dizzy and lightheaded just from a simple task like walking, maybe an overaction, but seeing as they weren’t home yet she must have been kept overnight for some simple monitoring. Sitting in a dim room wasn’t exactly the most positive mood, but Tsukasa wasn’t quite the one to complain first thing in the morning over that kind of thing. He felt some stings coming from his wrist when he rolled over, but knew what it was already the moment he felt them. The disinfectant and healing cream didn’t seem to help quite as much as he hoped, but it was also something he could use to his advantage. A weak spot, something similar to a bruise, to make it easier to feel pain for reminders.
He did as he usually did. Got up, unplugged his phone, went downstairs, and started his day. Breakfast (or, if it was a day with an early show, he would skip over it), change, and out the door. He had slept a good chunk the night before from being exhausted out of practice energy, but he still seemed to be in a groggy state of mind. The entire day before he had worn himself out to where his knees wanted to break and sink, but now he had to face the consequence of exercising on them even while they still ached.
As he walked over to the door he noticed his mother on the couch. His father must have switched her for the night shift, something that had become routine once the hospital stopped offering them their private room for the two of them. His mom was passed out, sitting up with her head lying on the pillow. Her phone was still on, opened up to text messages with her husband. She must have been staying up late trying to keep him company over text. Tsukasa just sighed, shaking his head as he sat his practice bag down.
He grabbed the blanket that was draped over the side of the couch, laying it on top of his mother grabbing her phone and shutting it off, putting it on the coffee table. His parents gave their lives and everything for Saki to be healthy, and Tsukasa had come to the acceptance that his sister would need more than he. Many things had been sacrificed for Saki’s life, and Tsukasa was so grateful for that. Though he felt alone, he knew none of this was anybody's fault.
He sighed as he sat down on the floor in front of her, watching her stomach slowly rise and fall with each breath. His eyes trailed down to his own wrist, slowly pulling the fabric of his sleeve down to where he could see the bandage he had tightly wrapped in an attempt to hide the bleeding. His parents had the right to know about what he had done, they had the right to try and help him. He had the right to tell somebody how and what he had been doing and feeling. Maybe knowing he could get help was something that helped others, but he just remembered the fact that people had their own lives. His parents had Saki to worry about.
Tsukasa mumbled some sort of love message to his mother before going back to the front door, putting his practice bag over his shoulder.
Practice was a highlight of Tsukasa’s day. A place to work on yourself, to be in a positive environment, and to be around people who love you. It was also a place to be taken seriously. It was also a place of work. Conditioning is part of an agenda everyone boded by because they had to put their own work into it. Everyone trusts each other to do their part of this job, and if you don’t everyone else follows down with you.
Something felt so different about his ideals of practice now.
His hand was on the doorknob, not quite twisting it to its side yet. It stayed on the cold metal, almost a way of pondering if it should be opened or not. Tsukasa usually had the strength to push himself out the door with a smile and energy, but everything felt drained. He had no motive to continue to try. He let go of the doorknob, releasing it from his grip and putting his practice bag back down near the door, grabbing his phone and sliding it into his pocket.
He walked back over to his kitchen, grabbing a Gatorade. A particular red one, one he always recognized as his favorite flavor. He had once been told that the color difference actually made your brain think the drink varied between flavors, but he never looked into the topic. He saw no reason to try and ruin the flavor for himself, not when it was a small thing in his life that seemed to make him happy for no necessary reason.
Turning the lid, it made a few cracking noises before releasing and the cap was off. Taking a quick drink, the drink invaded his throat. It has a certain relief to it, helping the dryness. Sometimes the cold felt good, especially when people act on the heat of the moment. The plastic wrapped around it, crinkling under the grasp. He put the cap back on, tightening it around the lid.
He held onto it as he walked up the stairs, stopping when he heard a text notification. He pulled out his phone even though he felt no vibration, being greeted with the no notifications screen. He heard shifting a few feet below him. He glanced at his mother, who was frantically opening her phone to check a text, then letting out a sigh of relief. It was good to know his sister was alright even though he wasn’t the one who was updated on her status. He never really was updated on people he loved health, maybe because when he did he was bombarding people with questions about small details.
Sometimes he could be quite annoying, after all.
It felt right to know his sister had people who really cared about her. He always thought of the three of them as a team, people who stick together no matter what. Tsukasa? He himself was his own team. That's because he never needed help. Never had to be talked to about his grades, never yelled at or punished. His parents already had enough trouble when trying to take care of his sister, why give them more trouble when he can do the basics?
His father was caring. He had always tried to make sure Saki had activities to do in the hospital. That helped Tsukasa grow into his entertainment hobby. Though he doesn’t like to remember it this way, he always did it to try and become somebody who could make everyone he loves smile. To help out his parents when they needed that extra positivity, or even a place to go to when they needed to talk about their emotions. He always was free to lend an ear.
His mother was extremely bright. She was good at discussing things with people, a strategic person. She could tell what Saki was thinking and always helped her with her feelings. Tsukasa got his people skills from her, which, he mostly learned from taking notes in the background when she spoke to Saki. Tsukasa always saw his mother as a person who could help people.
Sometimes he wished she was good enough to help him when he needed it.
But those thoughts were always pushed away in Tsukasa’s brain. He can’t blame his parents because they're trying their best to help Saki. He can’t blame Saki for anything, that would be unfair. She never asked for these medical conditions and is trying her best to take care of herself the most she can.
So to be truthful, when Tsukasa needed help he didn’t know how to cope with it. Tsukasa didn’t have problems. Tsukasa won’t have any problems. There is not one thing that somebody else has to deal with. When Tsukasa gets a problem, it’s his problem, and he fixes it. There won’t be a problem. Not when you ask somebody about it.
Maybe that's why hurting himself felt like a way to relief. A cheat code. Harming himself gave him something else to focus on. Instead of focusing on the pain of bottling things up, he used the emotions when he cut the skin he himself grew. That explains the empty feeling he got when he finished. That odd feeling.
He walked into his room, a buzzing in his pocket taking over his attention halfway to his bed. It was a text from Rui.
“Tsukasa? Are you alright? Practice started a few minutes ago. Did you want me to cancel our slot?”
Tsukasa sighed, opening up his phone and responding to the message.
“Don’t cancel the slot! I’m not feeling the best today. I won’t make practice, but feel free to practice without me! I’ll make sure to work hard on the dance to learn it later when I’m feeling better. Thanks for checking in! :)”
“Should I come over? Is this still about the curtain check? If it’s a mental thing you know I’m always here for you!”
Tsukasa didn’t text back to the last message. He simply left Rui on read. He knew it was bad to leave people on read, but he rather do that than have to lie to Rui. It wasn’t a mental thing, was it? He was just exhausted and sore from practice the day before, that’s all. He has to work harder like that more often to get his body used to it. Make his body similar to clay; you have to work to mold it to how you want.
He put his phone down on the nightstand, lying down on his bed. He stared up at the ceiling. Once Saki came home from a hospital visit she had brought glow-in-the-dark stickers for her room but had some leftover. She had given them to Tsuksa, even though there were only five or so left. Tsukasa had put them above her bed’s ceiling, a reminder that he was a star.
He laid and laid, stared and stared. He was thinking about whatever truly came to his mind, good and bad. He usually didn’t allow himself sessions like this, times to relax and actually think about his life. He didn’t reflect on what bad happened, but now it seemed like there wasn’t anything good necessarily to think back onto. Practice was one of the things that brought him joy every day. Now he didn’t even have enough energy for that.