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Madoka knew his brother, and he knew his brother well, but he was still surprised at what had occurred after he’d gathered his courage, swallowed his pride, and formally apologized to him.
Head bowed as the wind whistled and whirled around him, Madoka was staring at the ground as he waited for Misumi to say something, anything. There was a lump in his throat that he didn’t really want to think about, that he didn’t necessarily feel he deserved to think about, not when he’d treated Misumi like he had in the past.
And because he knew his brother, he knew that he would be forgiven way too easily. Misumi had always been kind and caring, more than willing to be there for Madoka. It was Madoka himself that had been the problem, it was Madoka who had enabled his parents’ way of thinking, it was Madoka who had messed up what could have been a perfectly good relationship with his older brother. Despite the fact that he knew Misumi would forgive him, he almost didn’t want him to. He almost felt as though he wasn’t worth it.
“Madoka...”
Misumi’s voice was a quiet whisper, a sharp contrast to the way Madoka had heard him talking around his friends earlier, and Madoka swallowed hard, praying that no tears would come to his eyes.
“You don’t have to apologize. I forgive you!” Madoka could hear the grin in his voice, the cheerful lilt he’d heard so rarely as a child but that he always secretly cherished, and it made him feel even worse. Those words and that tone shouldn’t have been aimed at him.
“Here.” Madoka looked up when he felt Misumi push something soft into his hands.
Misumi was smiling at him brightly, the nostalgia lining his eyes softened by a quiet kindness. Staring at his brother up close like this after so many months, Madoka felt a pang in his heart when he realized that Misumi still looked exactly the same as he had when they were younger, the only difference being the lightness in his shoulders and the easygoing gleam in his gaze. Madoka, feeling another wave of guilt crash over him, knew that was what Misumi deserved.
Misumi motioned to the object he’d handed Madoka, who wordlessly shifted his gaze downwards again to the object that had been shoved into his hands.
It was a bright yellow plush in the shape of a triangle. Of course. Much to his shame, and completely against his own will, Madoka’s vision began to blur.
“It’s a Super Sankaku-kun!” Misumi said softly. “So don’t cry, okay? I forgave you a long time ago.”
It had been what he had expected. Misumi’s reaction had been exactly what Madoka had expected, yet upon hearing this, Madoka’s shoulders began to shake, and a myriad of feelings started to swirl so violently in his head that he was almost sure he would’ve crumpled to the ground if Misumi hadn’t caught him before then, engulfing him in a giant hug.
Was it okay, was it really okay to sit here and be forgiven as easily as this, to be given one of Misumi’s super special triangles, when Madoka had contributed so much to Misumi’s unhappiness, when Madoka hadn’t been brave enough to stand up for what he knew was right? When he’d caused the both of them so much unnecessary, seemingly permanent pain? When Madoka was the only one to blame for years upon years of hurt?
His heart and his brain told him no, of course not, of course his actions couldn’t be swept under the rug just like this. But Misumi’s embrace said otherwise, it told him that it was okay, that Misumi would be here for him, because Misumi believed he was a good person and that he could change and that he knew Madoka would try his best to not hurt him anymore.
(It was quite astonishing, really, how well Madoka seemed to know Misumi, though he’d estranged himself from him for the majority of his life.)
So Madoka, even though his heart and his mind were telling him not to, allowed himself to relax into the hug and let his tears drip silently down his face, landing gently on Misumi’s shoulder.
Feebly, as a final attempt to satisfy those dark corners of his conscience, Madoka said, “I don’t deserve to be forgiven.”
To which Misumi hummed, hugged him tighter, and replied, “But you’re apologizing to me, right? So only I can decide if I want to forgive you or not.”
Madoka felt something inside of him crack at that, a tiny part of him finally releasing its hold and letting go. He squeezed the Super Sankaku-kun still clutched in his hand.
“And I say that I forgive you!” Misumi continued, rubbing small circles on his back. “Despite everything, I’ll always be there for you. You know this, right?”
Yeah. Yeah, Madoka knew that. Deep down, he supposed that he’d always known that. Once again, it had only been himself that had tried to convince him otherwise.
“I-I’ll always be there for you, too.” Madoka croaked impulsively.
Misumi had let out a small laugh at that, and hesitantly, Madoka finally reached up to wrap his arms around Misumi as well.
Though he’d been expecting to be forgiven, Madoka was still surprised. Madoka had never expected to forgive himself, but as he hugged his brother back for what seemed like and what might’ve been the first time in his life, Madoka felt himself strangely at peace, and strangely ready to start anew.