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My Mama mapped out the road that she knows
Which hands you shake and which hands you hold
In my hand-me-down Mercury, ready to roll
Even at six years old you’ve got your mother's backbone and your father’s talent for getting lost in the clouds.
“Hey!” Someone waves their hands in front of your face. “We want to play ball! You’re in the way!”
You reluctantly take your eyes off the clouds above you and squint at the boy. He’s taller than you, with a dinosaur bandaid over his nose.
“Can’t you play somewhere else?”
“No, we always play here!”
“But I’m watching the clouds!”
“Samu!” The boy yells, “She doesn’t want to leave!”
You blink in surprise when the boy appears again, need a second to realize that you’re not seeing double.
“You have a twin?” You ask, amazed. “That’s so cool.”
The first boy points his nose at the sky but the second boy looks a little kinder, offers you one of his apple slices, his hands sticky when he hands it over.
“Your hairpin is cute.” He points out and you touch the little pin with the Onigiri on it.
“Thank you.” You tell him sweetly. “My Papa made it for my Mama. What’s your name?”
“I’m Samu. This is Tsumu. He’s dumb.”
“I’m not dumb!” Tsumu complains right away, slamming his feet into the ground and lunging for the apple slices.
You laugh. You like Samu.
-
By the time your mother calls you inside, there’s a bruise on your cheek and a grin on your lips.
You’d played ball with them for a while - to please Tsumu - until you didn’t want to anymore, ready to lay back down and look up into the sky.
Not that Tsumu took that decision lightly.
-
“What did you do?” Your mother asks, wiping your face clean of dirt. “Don’t you know that it’s better to play nice at first? You can still have some time alone but we only just moved here. You need to find some friends.”
“I did find some friends.” You point out. “I like Samu! And Tsumu isn’t that bad.”
She sighs, fingers the collar of your jacket, a piece she’d worn herself as a child, a hand-me-down that came with more than just memories.
“I just want you to have it easier than I did.”
“I do, Mama.” You remind her. “I have you. And Papa.”
She sighs.
“Yes, you do. Go get him for dinner. He listens to you more than me.”
She knew that I had to go
And hangout, make lots of noise
And lay out late with a boy
Make the mistakes that she make ‘cause she knew all along
I was already gone
Everyone at school says that your mom is the nicest, so laid back, young and pretty.
There aren’t that many rules at home. You’ve got a phone before anyone else and no one scolds you when you hike up your skirt, wear it shorter than anyone else.
But that’s because your mother doesn’t believe in rules you’ll just break, knowing you’ll just make the same mistakes she did.
After all, you’ve got your mother's stubborn head and your father's penchant for getting in trouble.
-
“Atsumu, Osamu! We’re home!”
You’ve met their parents briefly, in passing. They are strict, but not unbearably so. Not with two boys determined to bring trouble.
There’s just one rule they know they’ll never get out of no girls in their room.
You climb out their window, stick your tongue out at Samu’s worried face as you jump the last bit.
You both know you’ll be back here tomorrow.
Life is a runaway train you can’t wait to jump on
“What would you do for the rest of your life if you didn’t have anything to be afraid of?”
It’s one of those rare days where Tsumu has gotten lost with Ginjima and you’ve got Samu to yourself.
The sky is the perfect mix of soft blue and cotton clouds and there had been enough money between the two of you to buy pork buns and Mochi.
“I’d paint.” You answer. “Travel the world and do something crazy everywhere I go. You know, like Papa! When he painted the pattern of his shirt at different landmarks in Europe.”
He nods, looks up at the sky, and points at a cloud.
“Doesn’t that cloud look like an Onigiri?”
“What would you want to do?”
Osamu shrugs, bites into his pork bun to save time.
But you’ve got the patience his twin sorely lacks. And you’ve got the kind of smile that always gets him to talk.
They say the first time won’t ever last
But that didn’t stop me the first time he laughed
All my friends tried to warn me the day that we met
“Girl, don’t you lose your heart yet”
“Girrrl,” Suna snarls pointedly, resting his head on Samu’s shoulder. “Don’t lose your heart yet.”
“What are you talking about?!” Samu tries to throw him off, but Suna’s gotten too good at this game.
“Don’t deny it. I know you two have got history, but I’m telling you, this girl will not stick around.”
Samu shrugs. “Maybe not, but who said I will?”
Suna eyes him in that wary way he likes to seize the world with.
“You’d never. Leave, I mean. You can’t even say no to Tsumu. In the end it will be between her and Tsumu and I’m afraid you’ll always choose him and she’ll always chose herself.”
“Since when did you get so wise?” Samu asks, laughs, and shrugs it off like it means nothing.
After all, what does Suna know of those things?
From the other end of the classroom he can hear you laugh. It shoots right through his heart and he wonders when that started. Had there ever been a time before this feeling in his chest?
But his dark eyes dared me with danger
And sparks fly like flame to a paper
Fire in his touch burning me up, but still I held on
‘Cause I was already gone
Everyone thinks that Osamu is the gentler twin, the safer option, the calmer one.
But you know better, cuddling against him in the dark when his parents are asleep and even Tsumu doesn’t know you’ve snuck into his room late at night.
There’s danger in his eyes, grey like your favorite weather. They’ve always been able to look right through you, understand what you mean before you’re able to say it.
There’s danger is in his touch, his fingertips when they caress your cheeks, the weight of his arm when he puts it around you, the softness of his lips when he kisses you.
It’s the realization that he’d might make you stay when all you want is leave for the world
The last time I saw him, we packed up my things
And he smiled like the first time he told me his name
And we cried with each other
Your mother had promised you, when you moved to Hyōgo, that you’d have a different childhood than here. You would be able to stay in one place, put down roots and grow like a tree.
You’d be able to make friends and hold them close, fall in love and be able to stay if you choose to do so.
But you’re your father’s daughter, born with your head in the clouds and your heart flying with the birds.
She should have known that you were already gone the moment you stepped foot on this earth.
-
The day before your flight Samu found you packing, sitting between boxes and suitcases, a party hat on your head that you’d found at the back of your closet.
“You’re really leaving?” He asks and you can taste the grief on his tongue even though he tries to swallow it down.
“Yeah.” You pat the space next to you, lean into him when he sits down. “I’m sorry.”
“For what?”
“For not being the girlfriend that you need.”
“You don’t-”
“No.” You put your hand on his on the floor. “I know it’s not anyone’s fault. I just… wish, sometimes. That I could be like that. Stay in one place and be content with it. Love someone enough to consider staying. Isn’t that pathetic?”
“Are you talking about yourself or your father?”
You sniffle. “Maybe both.”
He puts his arm around you, pulls you closer. His voice is hoarse when he speaks, makes him sound so much older than he really is - just eighteen, not a child, and yet not grown up either.
“I wish I could be more like you.” He says. “Less afraid of leaving Tsumu behind. Less tied to places and people.”
“It’s less lonely your way.”
“It hurts less your way.”
You sit in silence for a while, not quite crying, but not with dry eyes either.
Eventually, you put the last box away, snap your last suitcase closed.
Osamu pulls the party hat off your head and puts it on himself, the elastic digging into the skin around his jaw.
“I promise you,” he says, “That we will be friends. No matter what happens.”
For a moment, he’s no longer eighteen. Not your ex-boyfriend, not the first love of your life. He’s six years old, offering you apple slices and a smile.
“No matter what happens.” You say and link your pinkies together.