Work Text:
Rejection, judgment, exclusion, isolation, being labelled, misunderstood, being dismissed.
All throughout his life, he had been dismissed, misunderstood, and even judged so often that he just got used to it - he took in stride and didn’t think twice on how it was wearing at him.
Doing a million things you don't want to do, to become someone you never wanted to be. Bending over backwards to please the crowd - trying to prove your worth, living a life that lacks meaning.
Back when both his parents still lived together, which wasn’t actually that long ago, they - his mum especially, had put so much pressure on him to do well in all his classes. So, to please them, he had been doing all the classwork, extra work and even stuff for higher grades. It piled up and like any pile, it was bound to collapse eventually.
The other students had made it known to him very soon that he wasn’t going to making any friends anytime soon - he was sure it was staged, absolutely everyone in the grade made it their job to hate him.
Death, grief, uncertainty.
That night, he had been at the table, making his way through a homework packet while his mum put together dinner when suddenly her phone rang. Not even a minute after she picked it up, the device slipped out of her grip and clattered to the floor.
“Slip some shoes on and get in the car,” she had told him before following her own advice.
He realized all too late that they were driving to the hospital, that was never a good sign; his father, who he hadn’t seen since his mum moved them both away to a different city and hadn’t had any contact since then, was dead, an accident at work, the doctor told them when he met with them.
He hadn’t really known his father that much, the man had been at work more than he was home before his mother had taken him to where they were now, but he still grieved for him.
Depression, loneliness, failure.
He would have to be lying if he ever claimed not to be lonely before he met the others, after all they were his first actual friends.
Music, symphonies, starry nights and holding hands
After that night Nya took him up to the rooftop and sung him ‘Who You Are’; it became a sort of tradition.
Whenever Nya sensed he had a not-so-good day - the younger Smith sibling must have a sixth sense for it - she would drag him up to the roof and sing him one of the many songs she seemed to have memorized.
Sometimes, when the night was clear enough, they would go up to the roof and just sit there, side by side, stargazing.
Sister.
Nya wasn’t his sister by blood. There was such a high chance that they would never have met at all and, not that he would ever admit it out loud, but he was so grateful they did. Because if they hadn’t, he wasn’t sure where he’d be right now.
Father.
He hadn’t known his father all that well before the accident, the man had always been at work or during the rare times he was home, he would be working on something, always. Looking back now, he wasn’t sure if he still wished he had known the man better, he had no idea how it would have affected him.
Brother.
Like Nya, Kai wasn’t related to him by blood, at all. But as time moved on, both siblings mutually agreed that he was their honorary brother; to which, he didn’t really know what to think - he did like it, though.