Work Text:
Most people might say their parents were abusive if they ignored one of their children in favor of another, that it was neglectful, it showed a lack of love, and turned them into a bitter type of individual. But to Hiyori, that was just the kind of love that he knew. He had always known, from the very beginning, that he wasn’t meant to be alive. From when he was young, when he noticed how his parents fawned over his older brother and left only the scraps for him, Hiyori knew.
So he made the most of being alive, a small act of rebellion, while playing into exactly what his parents needed in order to justify their neglect of him. They would insist that he didn’t need as much attention, because the maids could raise him just fine. They had told others that Hiyori was gifted, and wasn’t to be the heir to the foundation, so his actions and education were of little consequence. Eventually, once he was conscious of his actions, Hiyori began to act out as a way to help his parents explain why they cared so little for him.
“A rotten child, she is!” His mother would exclaim one evening, as if Hiyori weren’t sitting at that very same table with the rest of the family, listening to her words. “Acting out constantly, making such trouble for the maids, it’s no wonder we don’t train her to take over in case something happens to her brother!”
Hiyori just smiled, an empty smile, as he poked thoughtlessly at his food. Another subtle way of annoying his parents.
“Hiyori, stop playing with your food. It’s unbecoming of a noble.” His father snapped, pinching the bridge of his nose, and Hiyori wondered what it would be like to be born as a commoner instead. Sometimes he fantasized about it, about being born into a family where there were no expectations except to bring home good grades, and to be alive.
Though, it wasn’t as if he could say he really cared about that, obediently taking a pleasant bite of his food and staying quiet. His parents would discuss his brother’s education, and Hiyori would exchange a glance with the elder, who looked on him with something akin to pity. His aniue loved him, Hiyori was sure of it, but he had a strange way of showing it. He would never stand up for Hiyori, never protect him from their parents. But in the quiet moments where it was just the two of them, Hiyori would find himself wrapped in his brother’s protective embrace, knowing that he was loved in the way that he had seen on TV.
When Hiyori was in middle school, he thought about that love he kept seeing on TV. He wondered why his parents didn’t love him the way fictional parents loved their fictional children, but he knew firsthand at the age of 13 that acting a certain way all of the time took quite a toll, so maybe it was normal for parents to divvy out their love strategically.
Hiyori understood. They couldn’t afford to waste their affections on their useless second child, the one they hadn’t even wanted. He couldn’t really fault them, because he figured he would feel the same in their situation as well. Who would want two children when one did the trick just fine? He convinced himself that it didn’t matter, and that he could just seek out love from others. The kids at school loved when he brought them gifts, when he bought their affection just as he’d become so used to. The shallow gifts his parents would buy didn’t have that effect on him, but he knew it worked on simpler people.
Gifts meant nothing to Hiyori, but evidently, the average person quite liked to receive things. He could buy many gifts for people that meant little to him, and they would like him more, they would talk to him more. This was a little bit of a cheat, he’d find himself musing, but he really couldn’t bring himself to care all that much. It meant he had friends, it meant people wanted to be around him, and that was all that mattered. Because as long as people wanted to be around Hiyori, he realized that he wasn’t so bad after all, as long as people could stand him. His parents were forced to put up with him, so he didn’t blame them for not wanting to spend much time with him. Aware that he had taken up quite an annoying persona, Hiyori never shamed his parents for avoiding him at times, not even in his head. He would do the same in their position, wouldn’t he?
In the end, though, the small things would tell Hiyori all that he needed to know. No one would ask him how he had been doing, what he spent his weekend on, when he turned up at school. And he knew that he simply was not doing enough, that he wasn’t providing enough reasons for the other children to depend on him, to love him wholeheartedly. So he learned, slowly, when a strange child was temporarily taken in by his family. He found himself bitter, initially, that it was almost as if this new addition to their home was more important to him. But he realized that wasn’t the case very quickly, when the poor boy, Nagisa, found himself stumbling around the house without a word to pass his lips. Hiyori could tell, as was in-character for his parents, that it was an act of pity and charity to uplift their image.
He adapted quickly. He showed Nagisa how to speak, how to learn, how to love. And Nagisa’s love was broken, he was a damaged child, and Hiyori found himself pitying the young boy at times. He had never known love the way Hiyori had, wasn’t that the saddest thing? His ‘father’ hadn’t loved him very much, though Nagisa struggled to verbalize this, Hiyori was a patient saint because what else would he be? He held Nagisa’s hands through learning to speak properly, learning to recover from the trauma that he had faced in the wake of the death of his ‘father’. And Hiyori grew used to love, finally, to being depended on. He held Nagisa tightly, so tightly as if the boy might slip out of his grasp, and perhaps Hiyori was aware of how possible it was.
The moment Nagisa grew to be self-sufficient, Hiyori feared for everything he had tried to create over the years. He feared going back to that darkness, that same loneliness which swallowed him whole as he struggled to make friends when he was younger, but when he opened his eyes, Nagisa remained there, and everything was good and nothing was wrong and Hiyori had worried over nothing because nothing was wrong. Their fingers entwined, Hiyori would only be able to feel relief when he realized Nagisa felt no desire to leave. Finally. Finally. He was needed. Finally. Hiyori was loved, he had a purpose. His purpose was to protect Nagisa. He had created someone who was dependent on him entirely by accident, only because he pitied the boy, and now he had created a child who would cling to him needily.
And Hiyori felt no guilt, because why would he? Nagisa had chosen this life for himself, hadn’t he? It’s not my fault that he clung to me like that, he wanted me more than anything because I saved him, because without me he wouldn’t even be able to talk, why am I being blamed like I’ve done something wrong? All I did was make him depend on me– And then in turn, depended on his dependence, and that might be a little cruel– But is it really so bad? It’s not like I meant to do it, you know? I just wanted to help him, and I wasn’t really sure how, so it turned out a little strange. I had no intention of damaging my emotional maturity. Why would I do that? I was twelve.
It’s not my fault. I just wanted to be loved, what’s so wrong about that? I was a kid, wasn’t that my right? I am loved, aren’t I? My parents love me more than anything in the world, except my aniue but I don’t mind, because I want to be good for them. I’ll let them favor him, I don’t really mind. I don’t need to be showered in affection and attention from them anyway, you know? It’s only something you see on TV. It’s not real, see? No one else’s parents do that.
Right? It’s normal. I just wanted to love, I wanted to be loved, in a way that made sense. Tell me that’s alright, okay? Tell me. I’m sorry that I used you as a crutch, Nagisa, I love you. I really do. I would love you even if you didn’t need me. But don’t leave me, even though it’s okay if you do. Just don’t do it, please. I won’t stop you. But don’t. Don’t leave me. Don’t leave me. Don’t leave me.
Don’t leave me. Don’t leave me. Don’t leave me.
Don’t leave me. Don’t leave me. Don’t leave me. Don’t leave me. Don’t leave me.
Don’t leave me. Don’t leave me.
Don’t leave me. Don’t leave me. Don’t leave me.
Don’t leave me. Don’t leave me.
Don’t leave me.
Don’t leave me. Don’t leave me.
Don’t le
Please, I need you. I don’t want to be alone again.