Chapter Text
It wasn’t the first time, and it wouldn’t be the last.
Thunder cheered his audacity, and lightning illuminated his pathless way. Droplets of the upcoming rain blended with his tears, his chest twisting with helplessness and regret. It was hard to breathe, his throat hoarse from the shouts that startled their neighbors, who thought they were the perfect family.
He tainted their reputation and brought unwanted attention to their name. And he didn’t care. The poison coursing through his veins and halting his proper functioning wasn’t from shaming his father; it was his latent wish to have done more.
So many words and insults were still bulging in his throat, desperate to escape his mouth. His hands were shaking, craving something to break.
No one, not even their father, could talk that way about his sister.
If Naomi liked to display her affection towards her brother in public, it wasn’t anyone’s business. Countless times they were mistaken for a couple, and when a stranger learned they were siblings, their face was always the same. It wasn’t their fault; they looked different and that the people who didn’t know a single thing about them assumed what they believed was the truth.
Yes, sometimes Naomi overstepped boundaries, but a light push was enough to make her calm down. She could be too expressive at times, but Junichirou just had to voice his discomfort, burdened by the careful gaze of the walls, and she would back down.
They weren’t doing anything wrong; they were siblings for goodness’ sake. No amount of public affection, or what people thought would change the fact they shared half of the DNA in every cell of their body. Naomi was his sister, and he loved her, why should they care about the unsolicited judgment of an ignorant?
Then, others thought Naomi would treat them the same, and she would find herself surrounded by many friends. Boys and girls gravitated around her brightness and her bravery, making her popularity increase. She advocated justice and wasn’t afraid to say what she thought. Honesty was her presentation card, and the transparency in her character made her easy to trust.
Weekend after weekend, she went out to have fun. The arcade or the mall, going for ice cream or walking around the park; there was always something to do, somewhere to go. And, once she was gone and Junichirou set the table for two, his father couldn’t stop himself from bad-mouthing his daughter, a fourteen-year-old.
To him, she was too carefree, too friendly, too touchy. What would the neighbors think of her going out every single day? What if she came back too late? Why did Junichirou have to make dinner if Naomi should’ve been in the house to do that? Why didn’t he scold his sister, as he should do?
It was easier to let him talk and tire himself out, going back to the same arguments and get lost in a circle of his worries, drowning in a glass of water he filled with his own hand.
His father’s words didn’t have access to his head, which refused to process the absurd sounds that came from his mouth, meaning to influence his way of thinking.
Once done, he’d get up and tell Junichirou to leave the kitchen to Naomi, something he ignored with consistency.
After washing the dishes, their father was already in his office, and Naomi would come in.
His father didn’t notice Junichirou never touched his food, knowing Naomi didn’t like to eat alone, and that he wouldn’t be able to eat twice.
Enduring his father’s nonsense was a small price to pay for them to have a peaceful dinner afterward.
He had learned to keep his mouth shut.
Then, what happened?
The stinging hotness that spread from his cheek reminded him that even his patience had a limit. When Naomi was involved, he used to have a short temper, but he learned through pain and beatings that he had to repress the anger in his heart.
He wondered which line his father had crossed to make the glass break and the poison overflow.
If she doesn’t learn, if we don’t discipline her, she’ll grow up to be a whore like her mother.
The quiet from his side shattered with the entirety of the tableware between them. It had been enough; he had had enough, and he wouldn’t spend another second biting his tongue back, making his inner cheeks bleed from forcing his mouth shut.
He didn’t remember what he said, but suddenly his father had struck him with a loud slap, telling him to get out and only come back when he had come back to his senses.
He had run into Naomi when he went out. She stood frozen in front of the door, wide-eyed and scared. Her hand hovered over his red cheek, and tears drew lines down her face.
Junichirou held her shoulders and told her to go to their grandmother, just for that night. He called a taxi for her, and he stayed behind.
Despite not wanting to, he had to go back. He had to ease the road for Naomi to go back home without facing the consequences of his actions.
He’d have to apologize, put the blame on himself, beg for his father to let him in, promise him he’d learn, that he’d change.
It was for Naomi; he reminded himself. If not, he’d rather live in the streets than go back to that apartment, where, if it weren’t for Naomi, he’d suffocate to death.
His wandering led him to a playground. Memories flowed across his mind, seeing his younger self running around with his mom following him, and then, him pushing Naomi on the swings.
He sat on one of the swings, ignoring the sky was falling over him, the strong wind reaching his heart, and the heavy rain soaking his bones. When did it get like that? He didn’t notice until he let his body fall on the colorful swing.
After being trapped in his head for what felt like hours, but had been mere minutes, he let himself feel. He shut down his mind, ignoring the worries that bothered him more than the loud storm falling on him.
Ignoring the voice in his head, focusing on his senses, and closing his eyes to give more attention to his ears. He wanted to only think of the many drops of water kissing and trailing his skin, the bone-chilling winds, and the white flashes of lightning with thunder following after.
For a moment, the raindrops stopped, but he could hear them falling around him. Opening his eyes, he saw black.
The umbrella shifted slightly, and he saw the worried face of Tachihara.
“Everything okay?”
Junichirou shook his head slowly.
He was already soaking wet, but Tachihara was still somewhat dry. He knew his senior would prioritize Junichirou, so he stood in front of him for Tachihara to place the umbrella over both of them.
“Let me take you home, Junichirou, you’ll get sick out here.”
“No,” he breathed out, shaking his head.
He didn’t know why. He knew he had to go back for Naomi. But he didn’t want to, not yet.
Tachihara seemed distressed, but Junichirou couldn’t think of anything he could do or say. He felt a cold sensation on his wrist and registered it as Tachihara’s hand.
“You can stay with me,” Tachihara assured. “I won’t ask anything, just follow me.”