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I heard the living room door open behind me and immediately turned around. It was Hitoshi. Hizashi and I had been calling his phone since 9pm with no answer. We called most of the students in class 1-A and were just moments from calling on Hawks to scout the city for him. Furious with him and worried about him was an understatement.
“Where were you,” I asked. As the first sound escaped my mouth Hitoshi flinched back and hit the door hard. His eyes grew wide as I took a step forward. Was he afraid of me?
I felt Hizoshi’s hand on my shoulder, “Take a breath” he whispered.
“Kid, you know I would never hurt you,” I asked.
Hitoshi’s breathing became quick as I continued to stare him down.
“Hey,” Hizashi said. “Kiddo,” he held his hands up “We just want you to call. Okay?”
“I would never,” I said in a lower voice. “Ever, hurt you.”
But it was too late. His eyes grew wide and filled with something I cannot name, and I saw his shoulders drop.
“I’m so sorry,” Hitoshi said. “I’m sorry. I’m sorry, I’m sorry. I’m so sorry, I’m so sorry.”
I saw tears well up in his eyes as I stood there, watching Hitoshi apologize. He was terrified of me, as if he thought I was going to attack him over something like this.
“Kiddo,” Hizashi said taking a step towards Hitoshi. This only caused him to push himself against the door and say his apologies louder. The look in his eyes became more prominent, and I knew I’d seen it before. I saw it in Eri. Hitoshi wasn’t with us right now, but instead was deep in his memories.
Hitoshi quickly slid down the door to the ground, he smashed his head hard on the knob which made Hizashi jump forward to see if he was okay.
“Are you bleeding?”
Hitoshi screamed and placed his hand over his head, “I’m sorry,” he cried looking at Hi Hizashi zoshi. “I’m sorry, okay? I’m so sorry, I’m so sorry.” His breaths were loud and raspy as he backed into the closest corner. “Please, I’m sorry. I’m sorry.”
I knelt to the floor as he placed his head between his legs.
“You are home,” Hizashi said calmly. “You are safe, in our living room. You’re home.”
Hizashi looked at me and nodded.
“My son,” I said. “Please, come back to us. You are home. Touch the floor, I beg you to touch the floor. It is carpet, not concrete.”
Hitoshi screamed and he slammed both hands on the ground and began to rub the carpet. He was grasping at it, as if to make sure it was real.
“The wall,” I began. “The walls next, Kiddo.” Hitoshi couldn’t hear me. He was sobbing so hard it was hard for him to catch his breath.
“You are home,” Hizashi said again, a bit louder. He sobbed for a moment longer, “you are safe. Surrounded by two people who love you, deeply.”
I crouched to the floor then slowly slid closer to my partner and son.
“They can’t hurt you anymore,” I pleaded. “Come back to us, Hitoshi. They can’t hurt you anymore. Those are memories, you are present.” Hitoshi quickly lifted his head and stared into my eyes. There was nothing but the fear of a small child. “Do you know who I am,” I pleaded with him. He just kept staring at me, his eyes searching for something.
“I am Shouta, your father. Come back to me,” I slowly reached my hand up to his red wet face, knowing that gentle touch grounds him. “They can never hurt you again,” as my hand gently cupped his cheek, I held soft eye contact, waiting for any moment of fear. “They can never hurt you again, my dear boy.” I used my thumb to clean the tears falling from his eyes as they began to soften. “You are home,” I continued to repeat.
We sat there for what felt like hours, trying to coach him back to the present. As Hitoshi’s eyes began to soften, his breathing became consistent. Hizashi moved closer to us. We continued to coach him through breathing and grounding himself until Hitoshi slouched deeply into himself and Hizashi began rubbing his back as I held our sons’ hands.
“I’m sorry I didn’t call,” Hitoshi said look at the both of us. “Please,” he gasped. “Please don’t make me leave.”
Hizashi and I looked at each other n confusion and heard break before speaking to our son.
“How could we ever make you leave,” Hizashi says.
“Hell kid, you could stay until you are one-hundred years old. No one is making you leave, or will make you leave.”
“You are our son,” Hizashi adds. “And we love you.”
“So much,” I learned forward and kissed his forehead as he began to breakdown again.
“What’s wrong with me,” Hitoshi sobbed. “Why can’t I get better. I was doing so well.” He leaned into Hizashi and was embraced. He grasped Hizashi’s arm, holding on as if he was about to drown, “am I broken?”
My heart sank for him as I responded, his eyes flooded with agony. “No, Hitoshi,” I said.
Hizashi spoke softly, “you are not broken. There is nothing wrong with you, it wasn’t your fault. You were only a child. You are only a child.”
I saw doubt in his eyes as he stretched his arm out to me, asking to be embraced by both of his fathers. And so I held them both. Hitoshi’s head buried into my neck as we repeatedly told him he was safe.