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Miya was having the worst day. When he woke up in the morning, his head was a mess, and his eyes were burning, a feeling he soon realised he absolutely despised. His mood immediately soured. He felt like burying himself in his blankets and hiding away from the world, but just as he held that thought, his mom knocked on his door, ordering him to get ready for school quickly.
He let out a long sigh. There was no use in going against his mother’s words because when she got angry, it was terrifying. So instead, he decided to brave the day and pull himself out of school.
School wasn’t any better. His former friends were hellbent on making him feel worse. Whether it was snide comments about his clumsy work or sniggering whenever they passed each other in the hallways, they found some way to rile him up and wouldn’t stop annoying him. He wanted to scream at them, curse them out, throw a tantrum like a child, because everything sucked and everything hurt, but he’d just end up making a fool of himself so he bore it all silently.
The ache and burning hadn’t disappeared, making him feel like he was one second away from either punching someone or bursting into tears. Or punching someone and then bursting into tears.
He thought maybe his time at S would make him feel a little better. But no, of course not . The universe probably had it out for him because S did nothing but agitate him even more, making him feel like his head was splitting and his eyes were about to combust.
He ended up leaving the place after snapping viciously at each of the men in their group for no reason. It was only when he was a while away that he realised how awful he’d been to them.
He’d pushed it, he realised. They’d been so patient and understanding with his childish tendencies, considering he was literally a child, but there was no way they would let him hang out with them after this .
The thought made tears fill his eyes and roll down his cheeks. Funnily, the tears somehow soothed the burn on his eyes.
He climbed into his bed and squeezed his eyes shut, hoping he would feel better by the next morning. Then maybe he could apologise to them, maybe beg for their forgiveness.
Spoiler alert: He didn’t feel better.
His mom still forced him to go to school, even if he felt like he was about to die every two seconds. He ended up stopping at the gates, frozen.
His head was killing him . He wanted to hurl himself at a tree. And strangely, he could feel dread filling his gut, making his stomach churn. His chest felt heavy and tight.
I should go inside.
His body didn’t budge.
The first bell is going to ring in a minute.
His legs refused to cooperate.
Suddenly everything was too much, and he ended up stumbling away. He pressed a hand to his mouth and scrambled away.
He didn’t stop till he reached the park near his house. He collapsed on the bench, squeezing his eyes shut.
He felt terrible. What the heck was going on? He felt sick, like he’d eaten three sticks of cotton candy and then gone on the spinning teapots four times right after. His head felt like it was slowly exploding, pulling apart at the seams.
He rolled into a ball. He silently prayed for it to stop. It was making him feel faint and weak, and he wanted it to stop .
As out of it as he was, he had enough wits to drag himself to a sheltered portion of the park. He hid under one of the play structures, curling into a ball and hiding his head in his arms.
He ended up falling asleep there.
When he woke up, he felt equally bad. While the throb in his head had simmered down a bit, his clothes were sticking to his skin thanks to the sweat he’d worked up. He felt icky and tired. He dragged himself out from under the structure and started walking home.
His mother didn’t bat an eyelash when he walked in, letting him go straight to his room. He stood under the showerhead, letting ice-cold water pour on him without a care.
He felt like he was on fire. Everything was suffocating and hot. The cold water helped in snapping him to his senses. He began gaining his bearings again, mind catching up to everything that had happened.
He’d skipped school. Fuck.
He rested his forehead against the tiles, letting out a tired sigh.
It was only after a few more minutes that he worked up the power to walk out of the shower.
It was still 5 o'clock, but he felt like he’d gone three days without sleeping. Deciding he didn’t need any dinner, he let his damp hair be and crawled into bed.
Tomorrow. Tomorrow would be fine.
Spoiler Alert #2: It wasn’t fine the next day either.
Once again, he stood in front of the gates, held back by some nauseating feeling that made him want to barf in the bushes. Once again, he found himself turning away and running to the park. Once again, he fell asleep there and woke up after school was supposed to end, feeling as terrible as ever.
And it happened the day after that too.
On the third day of walking home after skipping school, Miya felt like he was going to collapse. Actually, he preferred collapsing. He felt so bad he wanted to be put out of his misery.
He hadn’t gone to S either, and even though he could’ve texted the group, every time he picked up his phone, he was suddenly at a loss of what to say to them and ended up setting the device down when his eyes started burning.
He opened the door to his house and walked inside, feeling dazed.
“Chinen Miya!”
He winced at the volume. “Yes, mother?”
His stomach flipped when she grabbed his forearm tightly. “You brat.” she hissed.
Miya could barely think straight. He could feel panic in his stomach, tightening his chest, but his brain couldn’t keep up, hazy and lost. “What?”
“Three days!” she shrieked, making him flinch. “Skipping school!? I got a call from your teacher today asking if you were ‘okay’ because apparently you had ‘not been at school for three days’ !”
He pressed his lips together.
“Where the heck have you been, you stupid child?!”
His head was exploding. “I—”
“You’re grounded! You’re not leaving your room for a week. I’ll be dropping you at school and picking you up. Goodness, what will happen to your reputation? Did you even think about that?!”
He hadn’t. He’d been focused on how sick he felt, how much his head had been spinning and how anxious he’d felt at the gates. Not his stupid reputation. His eyes wandered around the house, looking for some distraction from her yelling.
His eyes settled on the table.
“Why is that album out?” he managed to ask, voice low.
She gave him a suffering sigh. “A reporter was by like usual. They asked to see your pictures.”
“But Mom.” For heaven’s sake, his head, could somebody rip it off his body? “We don’t show those pictures to anyone. I told you not to. I hate those pictures.”
Her eyes narrowed. “Who cares, Miya. They’re pictures from when you hung out with those boring friends of yours, so obviously, reporters would be interested. You weren’t even here, so it didn’t matter.”
That was all she cared about. His reputation. His image. His fame. What about him? What about how he felt? What about his life ? He didn’t want all that pressure; he wanted a family, somewhere to be at ease and feel okay.
He pulled his hand away. “I don’t like them for a reason! Maybe if you stopped letting random reporters into our house, then things would be okay!” he yelled. “For god’s sake, does no one in this house think about how I’m fucking thirteen years old and that mentally I’m not even conditioned to take this?! And you call yourselves my parents?!”
His voice broke.
“I hate this life. I hate this stupid reputation, I hate you guys, it’s like I’m not even your kid, I’m just some child that’s been put in your care! It’s like I don’t matter—”
His head whipped to the side.
Ow.
He looked up slowly. His mother’s eyes were cold and harsh. He saw the second slap before it came but still couldn’t stop it.
His left cheek stung.
“You—You idiotic child!” she screamed. Her palm met his face again. “Do you know who we’re doing all this for?! This is all for you! You stupid excuse of a kid!”
He barely reacted when she hit him again.
“Everything we’ve done is for your future!”
And again.
“All of our work is for you to be stable!”
And again.
He tasted iron. His cheek was numb.
“And you dare swear at me?! Your mother?! I gave birth to you. Without me, you wouldn’t exist!”
Tears were flowing down his cheeks. He took one step back. And then another. Before he was stumbling back.
His back hit the door, and he wrenched it open, scrambling out of the house, bolting down the stairs and past the gate, and running away.
“Miya!”
He couldn’t stop. He ran and ran and ran.
He finally reached the park. As fast as he could, he crawled under the play structure and huddled up, shaking.
What had just happened?
He was shaking so bad. He couldn’t even hold his phone properly. He should call someone. He needed someone right now. He felt like he couldn’t breathe.
Who—Who could he call?
The image of a certain redhead immediately flashed across his brain in the midst of his panicked thoughts.
Reki.
Right, Reki.
Reki would pick up, right?
Reki promised to be there whenever he needed it; he would definitely come.
His finger hovered over the contact.
Would they even care?
The thought made him pause actions. They probably wouldn't. Why would they? He'd treated them terribly at S. He'd just yelled at them and acted like a brat.
They would probably be happy he was getting what he deserved.
He was the one who had messed up.
His throat closed up, and suddenly he was suffocating again. He choked out a breath, feeling panic cloud his brain.
Suddenly the sound of dialling reached his ears. He looked down to see a call going out to Reki. Instantly he fumbled with it, trying to press end call.
But before he could, he picked up the call.
"Miya?"
His breath stuttered.
Reki picked up. Reki picked up? Why?
"Yo, Miya, are you there?"
"R-Reki?"
His voice was soft and shaky, cracking in the middle.
Instantly Reki's tone changed. "Miya, are you okay? Where are you?"
The evident concern made his chest hurt. Tears resurfaced, and a pitiful whimper forced its way from his throat.
"Miya, kiddo, I need you to tell me where you are, okay? So I can be in front of you. Do you know where you are?"
"I...I—" he took in a shaky breath, clutching the phone closer to him. "Park."
"Near your house?"
"Mhm."
"I'll be there in five minutes. Is it okay if I bring Langa?"
Miya's head conjured up a visual of the Canadian's kind eyes and the feeling of his cool palms. "Yes, please," he whispered.
"Okay. Okay, yeah. We'll be there soon, Miya. Hang in there."
The call ended with a beep, and Miya clutched the phone to his chest. He curled into a ball, wishing to disappear. Everything was so loud, so bright, so annoying. He wanted to leave, he wanted to be somewhere safe, he wanted to feel okay.
More tears ran down his cheeks. He quickly pressed a hand to his mouth to silence the sobs that wanted to make themselves known.
He felt like he was overheating but freezing at the same time. His brain was short-circuiting, and he couldn't think straight. There was a painful pressure on his forehead and cheekbones that made him want to pass out.
"Miya."
He raised his head and blinked the tears out of his eyes.
His eyes slowly adjusted to the sight in front of him.
Reki and Langa were standing there, sweating and huffing, telling him they ran here. Their eyes were shining with concern.
Tears fell faster now. He couldn't say anything but let out a pained noise that spurred the two teenagers into movement. Miya weakly reached for Langa, craving some relief, almost dissolving into sobs again when the elder held him.
"Miya, your cheek," Langa murmured. “What in the world happened?”
He buried his face into Langa's shoulder, shivering. Was it bruised? He had no idea about half the things he was feeling at the moment.
"Miya should we take you home?" asked Reki gently.
Immediately panic flared in his gut. He lifted his head sharply, regretting it when another wave of pain surged through his head. "N-No–!"
Reki rubbed his back. "Alright, bud, I got it, we won't take you there. How about Joe's?"
Miya settled his head down. Joe…Joe was usually with Cherry…Joe and Cherry…his brain started bringing up warmth and comfort, making him nod.
Reki smiled gently. "Okay. Let's go to Joe's."
Langa lifted him with surprising ease, letting him cling to him with no complaints. One arm supported Miya's butt, and the other held his waist, so he was stable.
His head turned hazy again, and he could feel himself start to lose his bearings again. But he figured that now that both of them were there, he could give in safely.
The next time he opened his eyes, they were walking into Joe's apartment.
Reki rang the doorbell, pressing his lips together impatiently.
The door swung open, and there stood Joe, in casuals and messy hair.
Cool air escaped from the unit, making him sigh at the soothing feeling.
"Reki? What are you–Miya?"
"He's sick, Joe," said Langa softly. His chest rumbled from the words, which felt oddly comforting to Miya. "And for some reason, he doesn't want to go home."
The man opened the door wider and ushered them in.
"I'll call Kaoru and Shadow. Go and set him in the guest bedroom. Also, make sure he has a lot of blankets on him." ordered Joe.
Reki nodded, walking ahead and leaving Langa to follow him.
They entered the guest bedroom which was already cool enough for Miya. Langa set him down gently on the bed and pulled the covers over his shivering body. When Langa moved away Miya felt fear strike straight through him. He grabbed Langa’s hand, gripping it weakly.
“No-don’t—” he was cut off by another wave of pain that made him curl in on himself even more.
Luckily Langa understood, sitting down on the side of the bed and letting Miya bury his face into his stomach. The elder ran his cool hands through his hair in a soothing manner. As he hoped, Miya’s shoulder lost some of its tension.
Reki sat in front of the both of them, eyebrows pulled together in worry.
“Miya, bud?” he whispered softly, making the boy stir.
“Can you just tell me how you feel?” he asked, making sure to keep his tone light.
Miya clutched Langa’s sweater, frowning slightly.
“Head. Hurting. And…stomach feels weird. And feelin’ cold. Also—chest keeps feeling tight. Randomly.” His words come out choppy and dazed in a way that makes the teenagers exchange worried glances.
Footsteps echo in the hallway and soon enough Cherry and Shadow are at the doorway.
“What’s wrong?” whispered Cherry, rushing over. He caught sight of Miya and immediately his face screwed up in worry.
“Miya’s feeling sick.” whispered Reki. “Cherry it sounds really bad, I think we should—”
A loud whimper made the room fall silent. Langa was holding Miya, scanning the boy's face worriedly. The boy’s eyes were squeezed shut, his face showing nothing pain.
Everyone froze as tears rolled down his cheeks.
“Miya?”
A sob ripped out from his throat as he clutched his head. “It hurts. Oh god it hurts.” he cried. “It hurts, someone, make it stop. Please someone make it stop . Why does it hurt so much, make it stop, make it-” His fingers gripped his hair so tightly, they were worried he was going to pull out more than a few strands. Langa gently tried to pry his hands away, and massage his head gently, to provide some sort of relief.
“Shadow the van now . Langa, pick him up. Reki, stick with them. Kojiro, call the hospital and tell them we’re coming. I’ll try to get a hold of his parents—”
Hearing that Miya grasped in Cherry’s direction. To their alarm, his tears had only increased. “No, don’t—Cherry-not my p-parents.”
“Miya, they need to know—”
“They don’t care!” he yelled, shutting them up. His sobs were unrestrained and loud, full of agony. “They never cared, so just don’t.”
Langa pressed his lips together. Fury danced in his eyes but he decided it was not the time to feel angry. Miya came first. He lifted the boy gently.
“Hospital first. You guys can sign in as a guardian or something for now. If we go to the one my mom works at she’ll be able to help.” he said, his voice low and firm.
The other four snapped out of their trances and nodded, immediately hurrying out. Langa and Reki sat in the backseat, with Miya on their laps, glancing at the suffering kid every three seconds. Just in case, Langa called his mother.
“Langa? Is something wrong?”
“Mom. We’re coming to the hospital right now, I just wanted to give you a heads up because we need your help.”
“Hospital!? Is everything okay?”
“I’m fine but one of our friends—he’s really sick, Mom, we don’t know what to do.”
Nanako could easily make out the distress in her son’s voice.
“Alright Langa, I’ll make sure to keep someone ready, okay? Don’t worry we’ll help him out.”
“Okay, thanks Mom,”
“Of course sweetie.”
Everything happened in a flash. They were carting Miya into one of the rooms on a bed, Nanako went with them with a promise to make sure everything turned out okay, Cherry and Joe were having a hushed conversation in the corner. The other three sat next to each other, mentally absorbing everything that had happened.
“How long do you think he stayed like that?” whispered Reki, clenching his fists. Langa took one of his hands and squeezed it.
Maybe an hour later Nanako stepped out, beckoning them over. They rushed to follow her, feeling worried.
He looked exhausted. He was fast asleep but even in his sleep, he looked tired.
“It’s a lot of stuff. Lack of nutrition, lack of proper relaxation and sleep, a terrible migraine, and even minor sinusitis,” she said, frowning. “His parents haven’t been taking care of him at all.”
“Will he be okay?” asked Langa, worried from the description.
She gave him a smile. “Yeah. He’s been assigned some medications. Once he wakes up he can leave, as long as one of the adults signs him out. I understand his parents aren’t going to be coming, right?”
“He asked us not to call them,” said Reki quietly. “Said they wouldn’t care.”
Her expression darkened for a second before returning to normal. “Okay. Whoever is going to sign him out, please follow me, we can finish the paperwork now. The rest of you can stay here.”
Joe nodded and followed her. The door shut behind them. Cherry sat down gingerly.
“The bruise.”
Their gazes settled on the bandage on his cheek.
“Did he say where he got it?”
“No. It was still pretty fresh when we found him,” said Reki.
A sombre silence settled on them.
It was only after Joe came back and fifteen minutes had passed that Miya woke up. They heard a tiny groan and in seconds everyone was by his bed. He held his head and pushed himself up slowly.
His eyes opened and he blinked a few times for good measure.
“Wha-?”
Everyone slumped in relief the moment he spoke.
“Miya, how do you feel?”
He stared at the blankets. “Uhm-kinda like shit.”
His voice was quiet and hoarse.
“Yeah that happens sometimes,” said Langa, nodding gravely. For some reason, that action looked funny to Miya because he managed to crack a small smile.
“Would you like to come to my house, Miya?” asked Cherry gently. His expression was soft and inviting.
Miya fiddled with the fabric. “I-”
Cherry stared at him before smiling softly. “Everyone can stay over too.” he offered.
“I-Is that really okay?” he asked, his voice small.
The pink-haired male pushed down the urge to hunt down the human who reduced confident, bratty Miya to this uncertain, scared boy.
Or maybe this was always the real Miya. Maybe Miya, Japan’s most hopeful, was just a convenient facade.
“Of course.”
Miya nodded slowly. “I’d like that please.”
He ended up walking with one hand in Reki’s and the other in Langa’s. The couple didn’t seem to mind, occasionally giving him reassuring smiles and squeezes on the drive to Cherry’s.
They gathered in one of the bigger rooms, all in their pajamas, in a circle. Miya didn’t mind being squeezed between Reki and Langa again. It made him feel secure and grounded.
“Miya I know you probably don’t wanna talk about it, but we need to know,” said Joe softly.
Miya swallowed nervously. “I—Uhm yeah I figured...where should I start from?”
“When did all this start? When did you start feeling sick?” asked Shadow seriously.
“I think…Monday?” he said quietly. “I-It was just a headache…I thought it would go away soon. Like I thought at least S would make me feel better but it kinda made it worse and—”
He stiffened, eyes widening. “I–I never apologised,” he said frantically. “For yelling at you guys-”
“Miya we couldn’t care less about that.” interrupted Shadow. “We could all see it on your face, you weren’t okay. So we knew that you were going through something. And that’s okay.”
“But why didn’t you at least come to us if you were hurting?” added Reki.
“Every time I wanted to send a message I’d freeze up. I didn’t know what to start with and I didn’t want it to seem like I was complaining or like I couldn’t handle myself…and then I started getting worried because what if you didn’t want to hear from me and you guys thought I was annoying and—”
Langa placed a hand on his chest. “Miya. Breathe .”
Miya blinked in surprise before taking in a deep breath. Oh, he had been rambling.
He let out the breath, frowning.
“Miya,” Cherry was frowning. “We’d never see you as an annoyance. As your group, we’d prefer it if you told us when you’re struggling. With anything. Even if we can’t help you out completely, we’d at least like to lessen the burden.”
“Even if it’s a lot? What if I keep bothering you? Like every day?” he protested.
“We wouldn’t mind.” he insisted. “There are five people here. Each one of us would be willing to help you with anything. So please, don’t forget that.”
He blinked before nodding. “Okay…yeah. I’ll keep that in mind.”
“Good. Now continue.”
“Yeah, uhm-so I thought sleeping it off would work but when I woke up I felt a little worse. I still had to go to school because my mom doesn’t let me skip school so I walked there but then-” he frowned, clutching his chest. “I felt weird. Like my head started aching even more, and my chest started feeling tight and I felt like I was going to throw up. I couldn’t move. It was like I was frozen. So I ended up skipping school. I ran to the park and hid under the play structure out of the sun and tried to calm my headache and eventually fell asleep there.”
Everyone wanted to comment on how dangerous that sounded, sleeping in the open, completely unarmed and defenceless, but they bit their tongues and waited for him to finish.
“That happened the next two days too. I’d walk to school, then at the gates I’d feel sick and I’d run to the park, stay there till school was over and go home.”
“And lunch?”
“It’s served at school so I didn’t get any. And my head ached a lot so for the last two days I didn’t eat dinner.”
They gaped at him. How could he say that so casually?
“Miya, one of the reasons the doctor said you got worse was because you weren’t getting enough nutrition! That means you weren’t eating enough food, you definitely need more than just breakfast!” spluttered Joe. “Has this happened before?"
He shook his head, to their relief. “My mom usually makes me eat well because…” his eyes dimmed. “As a pro, I shouldn’t ever find myself in a situation where I fall sick or faint…because it’ll reflect badly on the family.”
Cherry really had to find his parents and give them a nice talk, this was ridiculous .
“And then today apparently my teacher called my mom and asked if I was okay because I hadn’t come to school in three days, and she got mad at me and started yelling at me-” oh god he was crying again, “-and then I saw that stupid album on the table, the one with the pictures with all my old friends that I hate looking at because I still feel bad about not being enough for them to stay so I started yelling at her instead and she…”
He fell quiet as if trying to piece his thoughts together.
Their worst suspicions came true when Miya gently placed his hand on the bandage on his cheek. “She hit me.”
Reki grit his teeth. “How many times?”
Miya shrugged, trying to be nonchalant, but his hands were still trembling and tears still falling from his eyes. “Maybe f-four? Five?”
The silence was deafening.
“B-But that’s normal, right? A lot of parents hit their kids, it’s fine—”
“It isn’t, Miya,” said Reki, seriously. “My mother has never raised a hand against me in a—a disciplining manner. Yes, she yells at me and lectures me but any time she’s laid a hand on me it’s never been harder than a slightly rough tap or a clap on the back.”
Miya looked so small there. His head was bowed in defeat, droplets falling off his chin, hands clutching the fabric of his shorts.
Langa wrapped an arm around him. “You’re okay now. You’re safe.” he said softly.
Some switch seemed to flick in Miya because soon he had his face buried in Langa’s chest as he shook with soft cries.
“It’s alright, Miya. You’re safe. We’re not letting you go.”
Later, Cherry would make him promise to tell them any time he felt slightly under weather. Later, Cherry and Joe would personally go to Miya’s house to have a grave talk with his parents. Later, Reki and Langa would even treat the boy to ice cream just to see him smile and look carefree.
Later, Miya would be able to return to his snarky attitude, but it would be mellower than the usual because he trusted the group that much.
Later, Miya would get asked about the group he’s been seen with often and he would shrug bashfully and admit they were basically family to him.
But for now, they would fall asleep in a group pile, with Miya in the centre, protected from all sides. And he would feel safe and okay.