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The equation just wasn’t adding up to Choromatsu.
He’d been sitting at his desk, staring in dismay at the first problem--the very first problem--on his math worksheet for what felt like an eternity. He’d already worked it out three times, and each time he’d gotten a different answer. An answer he was certain each and every time wasn’t the right one.
Why can’t I get it? Why can’t I figure out this one stupid problem? It’s only the first one at that...it’s going to take me forever to get through this homework, I’m going to be doing this all night...and I still have English homework after this. How am I ever going to get all of this done…?!
He took off his glasses for just a minute, rubbing his tired eyes, and peered down at the paper again. The problem still loomed ominously before him, as if taunting him, only now it was muddled and blurry in his vision. Which, if he were being honest, wasn’t all that different from how it appeared to him with his glasses on. Even when he could see clearly, the answer was hazy and out-of-reach.
“Choromatsu…?”
Choromatsu jumped, so wrapped up in his own problems that he’d completely forgotten he wasn’t alone in the room. He quickly put his glasses back on and whipped around to face Karamatsu, who was perched on a seat near the window with a script in his hands. The second-oldest brother had landed a small role in the school play, which was coming up in just a couple weeks, and he’d been diligently studying his lines every day since he’d been cast for the part.
He’s only a tree though, Choromatsu reminded himself, hardly anything to get so excited over.
He was a tiny bit jealous that his shy and self-conscious older brother had found the courage to audition for the play in the first place though...something Choromatsu wouldn’t have felt the bravery to do even if he hadn’t committed himself fully to his studies and passed up on any extracurriculars for the rest of the year. Not like he was willing to admit that though.
Karamatsu wasn’t reviewing his lines (or rather, line), now though. He was gazing up at Choromatsu with an expression that was a mix of curiosity and concern.
“What is it, Karamatsu?” he asked, irritated at being interrupted and slightly anxious Karamatsu had noticed him panicking. “I’m busy here, if you can’t tell.”
“I just wanted to ask, um...are you okay?” Karamatsu asked quietly, as if hesitating to even bring up the question. “I saw you take off your glasses and rub your eyes...are you getting a headache?”
“Oh, that...I’m fine, I had something in my eye.” Choromatsu refrained from mentioning the dull throbbing that was starting to pulsate at his temples. He got a lot of headaches when it came to homework, it was nothing new. He wasn’t about to worry Karamatsu over it.
“Are you sure?” Karamatsu questioned, frowning a little. “It seems like you’ve been working for awhile now. Maybe you should take a break.”
“I don’t need one,” Choromatsu responded hastily, straightening his spine so his posture was stiff and flat against the back of his chair. How could he let himself slouch so lazily? That wasn’t what an honor student would do. “It’s important to get homework done as soon as possible. The sooner I finish it, the sooner I can focus on organizing what I’ll need for tomorrow. That’s what a proper student is supposed to do, after all!”
“Well, I guess so...I mean, if you say so.” Karamatsu looked unconvinced, but he wasn’t one to pry when he didn’t have to. He liked to avoid conflict as much as possible, especially where his brothers were concerned.
“Of course I say so! It’s the truth. You can’t be a proper student if you’re just screwing around and wasting your time away, unlike some of our brothers,” Choromatsu asserted, thinking scornfully of Osomatsu in particular when he made his last point. “You should get started on your homework, too, Karamatsu. That’s more important than memorizing lines for a play.”
“I suppose so...I’ll get to mine in a little while,” Karamatsu replied, seeming unaffected as he rose to his feet and tucked his script under his arm.
“Suit yourself.” Choromatsu turned back to his homework again as Karamatsu left the room, not even bothering to say goodbye.
Karamatsu slid the door shut softly behind him. The second he was gone, Choromatsu let a long sigh escape his mouth, his shoulders slumping. Back to work.
He stared at the math problem again for a long moment, then reluctantly picked up his pencil and attempted to solve it again. Little pink shavings of eraser soon covered the desk as he feverishly erased his mistakes, scribbled down something new, and then erased it all over again, nearly tearing a hole through his paper. After two more tries, he still wasn’t sure of his answer, but he hesitantly copied it down onto the worksheet anyway. After all, what else could he do? He was either right or wrong, and more than likely he’d be wrong, no matter how many times he reworked the same stupid problem.
Choromatsu’s gaze wandered to the next problem on the sheet...and then the one after that, and the three other rows of questions after that... and suddenly he felt so overwhelmed he wanted to scream.
It’s no use--there’s too much to get done, I’m never going to finish it all! And even if I do, what’s the point? I’m not even going to do it right, I’m going to get another bad grade and everyone is going to be disappointed in me again…
Tears sprang to his eyes then, blurring his vision. One dripped from his cheek before he could stop it and landed on his homework sheet, creating a wet spot that dampened the ink on one of the problems and caused it to run. He frantically grabbed a tissue and blotted at the spot, but the damage was already done.
Great, on top of everything else he’d be turning in tear-stained homework. Maybe the teacher would just assume it was water. For some reason Choromatsu doubted it, though...tear stains always seemed to give themselves away.
Perfect. That’s what I needed...for the teacher to know I’m a failure AND a crybaby.
Choromatsu removed his glasses again, this time putting them off to the side, then folded his arms on the desk and rested his head on them. All the while he struggled to hold back his tears of frustration, squeezing his eyes shut and sniffling hard. One or two may have slipped out, dropping into his papers, but at this point he almost didn’t care. What did it even matter anymore?
He was a failure. He couldn’t deny it anymore. His grades were horrible and they only seemed to get worse instead of better, no matter how much effort he put into it. His teachers were constantly telling him he needed to work harder or else he’d never get into the college of his choice...well, maybe they never said it directly, but they implied it, with their severe expressions and no-nonsense tones leaving no room for doubt.
It hurt. It physically hurt, a dull and ever-present ache in his chest that grew worse with every failed quiz he received, every homework question he struggled through, every disappointed look he got from the people he strived so hard to please. He just wanted to be successful, wanted to have a promising future and fulfilling life. But how could he possibly achieve that when time after time, he let everyone down, including himself?
I failed everyone, he thought miserably, sniffing. Everyone thinks so. My teachers, my parents...I hate this, I tried so hard, why is this happening…? I guess I’m just not good enough…
Just then he heard a soft clink beside him, and raised his head just enough to see that someone had placed a steaming cup of tea on the desk next to him. He lifted his gaze to find Karamatsu standing beside the desk, offering him a small, if somewhat hesitant smile.
“I know you said you didn’t need a break,” Karamatsu began, “but I thought I’d bring you some tea. You can sip on it while you work, at least.”
“Oh....” Choromatsu blinked, surprised yet touched by the small gesture and not quite sure how to react to it. “...thank you.”
“You’re welcome.” Karamatsu shifted awkwardly from one foot to the other, glancing down at the floor as though unsure if he should make eye contact with the third son.
Choromatsu was suddenly acutely aware of the state Karamatsu had found him in, and scrambled to sit up straight and put his glasses on again. He could only hope his eyes weren’t red from almost crying. “H-how long were you standing there for…?”
“Just a couple seconds.” Karamatsu bit his lip anxiously, and Choromatsu’s stomach lurched, sensing something was coming. “But, Choromatsu...you know, I think you’re really overworking yourself lately.”
“I’m not working myself enough,” Choromatsu insisted hurriedly.
“How can you say that?” Karamatsu wanted to know—even when he raised his voice a little, it wasn’t very loud. “Every day after school you either come right home or go to the library to study. You spend hours with your nose in a book and taking notes. I don’t remember the last time you joined us to do something fun. Wouldn’t you say that’s working a bit too hard, devoting every second to studying?”
Choromatsu swallowed hard, and took a small sip of tea, hoping it would wash down the lump rising in his throat. “But I have to...if I’m ever going to be a proper student, I have to work harder.” His voice softened, almost speaking to himself, as he added, “I’m barely scraping by now as it is…”
“Why are you so fixated on being a…’proper’ student, anyway?” Karamatsu asked, reclaiming his seat by the window but keeping his eyes on Choromatsu. “Isn’t it enough to just do your best?”
Choromatsu blinked, taken aback by the question. He'd never really thought of what his answer to that would be before. It took him a minute to collect his thoughts before he finally said, “Well, because...because that’s what we all should be aiming for. We should all be working our hardest to get good grades, so we can go to a good college once we graduate. I’ve always wanted to go to college and get my degree, and then get a good job. I can’t do all of that if I’m a bad student, if I’m a...failure.”
He nearly choked on the word as he said it, that lump wedging itself in his throat again as more tears stung just behind his eyes. He ducked his head, watching his hands as he drummed his fingers against his knees.
“But Choro, you don’t have to be so, um... intense about it,” Karamatsu replied, carefully choosing his words. “You don’t have to pretend to be someone you’re not. It’s enough if you’re just doing your best, you don’t have to be perfect or anything. No one expects you to be.”
“You don’t understand.” Choromatsu sighed. “It’s not like I want to be perfect. I just want to be successful. I want to be recognized for working hard and achieving big things. I don’t think that’s going overboard. But…”
His voice trailed off and he quickly clamped his mouth shut, realizing what he’d almost said.
Karamatsu caught on too fast, though. “But...what?” he prompted quietly.
Choromatsu finally peered back up at Karamatsu, reading the earnestness and concern in his expression...and suddenly it was almost too much to bear anymore, too much to keep within himself. With a shaky breath, he finally spoke up.
“But I’m...struggling,” he confided at last, his voice dropping to nearly a whisper on the last word. “I’ve been struggling for awhile. I am doing my best, but it’s not enough, my grades are so bad and no matter what I do they never seem to improve. I’m afraid... really afraid I’m going to flunk, because I’m so stupid.”
The second the word fell from his mouth, it was like a dam within him had broken. The tears that had surfaced in his eyes spilled over, rolling down his cheeks in burning trails, but he didn’t bother wiping them away as he poured his soul out to his brother. It was like he couldn’t stop, blurting everything out in a crazed rush.
“I’m stupid! I’m so stupid! I’m such a fool to think I could ever be successful—look at me, I’m barely passing my classes and everyone thinks I’m just a big, fat failure!”
He buried his face in his hands and sobbed. A voice in the back of his head screamed at him, demanding to know why he had lost it and dumped all of this on Karamatsu, who probably didn’t even care that much—but he was too exhausted, too miserable, to care now. It was out, and he couldn’t take it back.
Everyone already knows I’m stupid, might as well own up to it.
“Ch-Choromatsu, um...h-here.” Karamatsu’s voice cracked with uncertainty as he pushed a box of tissues toward Choromatsu. “Just...just blow your nose and try to calm down, okay? It’ll be fine.”
“It won’t be fine,” Choromatsu croaked hoarsely, taking a couple of tissues and blowing his nose. He took a few more to dry his eyes too, which now felt swollen from crying. “How can it be…?”
“First of all...you’re not stupid, Choro, not at all,” Karamatsu began, in as firm of a voice as he could muster. “You’re smart. But that doesn’t mean homework is always easy...it can be really hard, actually. But you don’t have to struggle alone, you know? You could always talk to the teachers about getting help.”
“Like...tutoring?” Choromatsu asked, his dread mounting. “But...but if I get tutoring, people will think I’m dumb...that I’m weak, and couldn’t do it by myself.”
“Needing help doesn’t make you dumb or weak,” Karamatsu replied, with surprising conviction coming from him. “Everyone needs help sometimes, even you. And it’s better to speak up and get help now when you still have a chance of turning things around, rather than push yourself to a breaking point where it might be too late.”
“Maybe…” Choromatsu fiddled with his glasses in his hands, chewing at the inside of his cheek apprehensively. “But it’s...it’s just really hard admitting I need help, when I want to be able to do everything on my own.”
“You were able to admit it to me,” Karamatsu pointed out gently. “That’s a start.”
“I guess so.” Choromatsu wiped at his damp, sore eyes. His chest still felt tight with anxiety at the very thought of approaching one of his teachers about getting help...but he did feel just a tiny bit better, getting his feelings out in the open. “I should probably do that soon, shouldn’t I?”
“It’d probably be for the best,” Karamatsu agreed. “Do you feel better, though?”
“I think so, a little...sorry I broke down like that.”
“It’s alright...sometimes I need a good cry to help me feel better, too.”
Choromatsu glanced up curiously at Karamatsu, not that he could read his expression well with his glasses off. He wondered what Karamatsu broke down and cried about, and why he didn’t know about it...then again, this was the first time he could recall talking to Karamatsu in a very long time, without the others around to butt in and pick fights. He felt a little guilty about that.
Before Choromatsu could ask him about it though, Karamatsu stood up again. “Well, Mommy asked me if I’d help her make dinner tonight, so I should probably go. I’ll let you work for now, alright?”
“Karamatsu...wait.”
Karamatsu paused at the doorway, turning back to face Choromatsu.
Choromatsu fidgeted a little, searching his mind for the right words but ultimately coming up with nothing. He didn’t feel right prying right now when it had been so long since they’d had any form of one-on-one conversation. If Karamatsu wanted to talk about it, maybe it would be better to let him do it on his terms, and not just immediately after talking Choromatsu through his own breakdown. He could always try talking to him later.
“Choromatsu…?” Karamatsu prompted hesitantly, and Choromatsu realized he’d gone quite awhile without speaking.
“Um...please don’t tell anyone else about this right now, okay?” Choromatsu asked, casting a pleading gaze up at his older brother. “I know I should at least talk to Mom and Dad about this, but...it’s embarrassing, and I need to figure out how I’m going to do it on my own.”
“Of course! I won’t tell a single soul,” Karamatsu assured him, and smiled a little, which Choromatsu managed to weakly return.
“Thank you. And...thanks for, you know, for being there for me today and listening to me when I needed it. And for bringing me tea. I guess I did need a break after all.”
“You’re welcome.” Karamatsu sounded sincere as he added, “You’re my brother, after all. I’m glad I could be there for you. I’ll see you at dinner.”
With that, he left, leaving Choromatsu on his own once again.
Choromatsu wiped his tear-streaked glasses on the bottom of his shirt, put them back on, and drank the last of his tea that had now gone cold. Then, wielding his pencil once more, he set about tackling his homework with renewed determination.
He knew telling Karamatsu about his troubles wouldn’t make his homework any easier, and just thinking about admitting he needed help to his teachers had his stomach twisted up in nervous knots. But it was comforting to know he didn’t always need to act like the perfect, proper student he always instructed himself to be. At least he knew one person who he could be more himself around, even if he wasn’t ready to reveal that side to anyone else yet.
He hoped that he and Karamatsu could start getting along better from now on, instead of growing farther apart.