Work Text:
Kengo had a lot of skeletons in his closet. Even now, in the past four months he'd been living with Wataru, there were things he wouldn't come out and say.
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His family was simple. There was no father; Kengo had a different dad than his two younger sisters, and their dad was distant after a fairly messy divorce. As Kengo entered his teen years, something had gone wrong.
He'd been a shy boy, well behaved, focused on his studies and his guitar playing. He'd started with acoustic and advanced into an eletric guitar later on, saving up money from chores to pay for them and an eventual amp. At the time, he still wore a uniform, his hair was short and black as coal.
Kengo had been ostracized, though; Something about his quietness, his look, had made people not want to talk to him, and slowly, Kengo fell into a depression.
He didn't know exactly why; He'd never liked talking to people that much, but it'd taken over him. He couldn't convince himself it was okay.
It came to a climax one night. He didn't know why. Kengo had stared into the mirror at himself, staring into his own eyes, and something snapped. He reached for the medicine cabinet, and grabbed what he could.
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There was screaming. It was the younger sister of the family, scared of the monster under the bed, wanting her big brother to help vanquish them. No matter how much she shook his shoulders, though, he didn't budge.
Her prodding turned into shaking turned into screaming, and crying, and sobbing. His mother and the other sister came, 911 was called, there was a stomach pump involved and hospital stay.
Everyone walked on eggshells for weeks. They were scared of him. His youngest sister especially looked at him as though he was a monster. He didn't tell them he'd tried before, and he didn't tell him his feelings. He stayed a monster for the next few years, staying out as often as he could. It was then that he learned about the joys of alcohol, and drugs, and sex. He got thrown headfirst into the music scene simply by wanting to avoid being at home.
When he was old enough, he fled. Kengo couldn't take it anymore. He moved to the nearest city he could find that seemed welcoming enough and did everything he could to make it live there.
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Wataru had changed him. Kengo wasn't quite sure why. Moving had made him confident and loud, happy to talk and chat with people. He was happy to end up in hotels and homes, happy to take a drink pushed in his face; He was happy in general. After that, though, Wataru had been the one to change him.
Wataru was sweet and caring, with a beautiful smile and eyes that shone any time they caught something of interest. The thing that stood out most to Kengo as a most as how kind he was to his family. Wataru was always kind to his brother, and he was always willing to invite his mother over for dinner.
Kengo thought to his family. He hadn't talked to them since he'd moved. His youngest sister would be entering high school soon, he remembered.
After thinking about it for a while, Kengo groped for his phone on the bed and dialed his own home phone number in, listening through the dial tone and eventual answer.
"Hey, mom. . .? It's me, Kengo."