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“I’m not fucking coming home,” Akito snarled, slamming the shift into park with definitely too much force. He sort of expected the mechanical crunch to soothe him, but it only made him angrier. He wasn’t supposed to break things anymore. He was supposed to be better than that.
He squeezed his phone in his palm, letting the hard corners dig into his skin. He’d shattered a phone once— not his, his mother’s, in a hotel room in some tiny tourist trap country he couldn’t remember. He’d really been in for it after that. Hitting your little brats is legal here , his dad had growled, dragging him into the bathroom and pressing him up against the wall. You’re going to learn not to mess with your mother’s shit. You’re going to learn to respect the people who gave up everything for you.
The walls of the buildings there had been mostly stone, rough and unforgiving, and Akito remembered peeking up at himself in the mirror after his dad had left, seeing the red spots littering his cheeks, tiny pinpricks of blood drying up as soon as they surfaced. In a way, it had hurt more than anything else that night; he couldn’t hide it, and getting comfortably to sleep was near impossible.
So he wouldn’t break his phone, and he wouldn’t break the car. And he couldn’t break anything else, either. Ken would never forgive him, probably, and it really would be little brat behaviour. He was probably on thin ice already.
"Dar-ling,” his mother chastised, the disapproval thick in her voice, “but you said you would, didn’t you?” She clicked her tongue, and Akito could hear her shaking her head. “You always go back on your promises.”
“Shut up,” Akito grumbled, more to the floor than to his mother. “I said I’m not. Not if Dad’s there, not if Ena’s having her little friends over, not if you try to talk to me like I’m a little bitch who doesn’t know shit.”
“That’s no way for a lady to speak, honey,” his mother sighed. “Gosh… I love you so much, it just makes me so sad to realise this is what you’ve turned into. Your daddy and I raised you better than this, didn’t we?”
“Shut up, shut up, shut up,” Akito muttered, his phone slipping through his fingers and clattering as it fell beneath the car seat. His mother’s voice grew muffled, just enough that he couldn’t make out what she was saying, but he could still hear the way she was talking at him. Soft and sweet and melodic as if she was the prettiest thing in the world. Like she’d never done anything wrong in her life. She had this way about her, all the time, of making sure he knew he could never do anything right. It didn’t matter what she was talking about. It was the way she looked at him like he’d hurt her beyond belief. Maybe he had.
Maybe he really was such a fuck-up that it actually made his mother sad to look at him. But it wasn’t like that was his fault.
Akito sighed, stretching out his fingers as far as they could go, watching his hands tremble in the low light while his mother chittered away. “Yeah, yeah, whatever.” He was losing more and more of his nerve by the second, draining away from him until he was nothing: discarded junk sitting outside the house of a father that wasn’t his, blood-rushing anger fading to silence, nonsense syllables in his mother’s cadence flitting through his mind.
He dragged himself out of the car with shaky legs, barely remembering to lock it on his way out, barely remembering how to stand as he pried open the keypad outside An’s garage and put in a code he was pretty sure was right. He hated his mother. He wished she hated him back. It was worse, somehow, knowing she adored him, knowing she genuinely thought she was helping. Knowing she was so fucking stupid she couldn’t see anything wrong with her husband or her firstborn. Knowing she was never lying when she told him how sad she was that he’d ended up this way, that she mourned her second child every day of her life because he’d turned out a hard-edged asshole instead of the darling daughter she’d tried her hardest to raise.
He trailed his fingertips up the wall until he found the button to close the garage behind him, leaving him in total darkness. He swayed slightly where he stood, trying to remember where to go from here, squinting into the blackness for even a silhouette that could tell him what direction he was facing. There was nothing there.
He wasn’t exactly angry anymore. It was hard to stay mad at his mother, a fact that pissed him off more often than not— his sister was easy to get pissed at, and so was his dad, but there was something about his mom’s cloying cruelty that just left him sort of… numb. He couldn’t be angry with her. She didn’t know what she was doing.
She doesn’t know what she’s doing , paired with a shrug and a smile as he ducked his head, standing shamefully in front of his mother’s sister. We were raised in a different time. She doesn’t mean it.
She doesn’t know what she’s doing , whispered comfortingly in his ear as his own sister held him tight, rubbing his back and holding his hand while he cried. It’s okay, Akito. I promise she still loves you.
She doesn’t know what she’s doing . She never did. His mother’s parents talked about her with pride in their eyes, lighthearted laughter at their dumbest daughter’s expense. Her husband, Akito’s father, did exactly what he loved to do to his children, but more quietly, more subtly, until he had her head-over-heels under his thumb. She didn’t know. It couldn’t be held against her. She loved her family. She was trying her best. It was Akito’s fault for antagonising her, time and time again, even though he knew exactly what she wanted. It was Akito’s fault. He couldn’t deliver.
He wasn’t angry with his mother, but he was angry all the same. He had to do something with the restless energy burning him from the inside, his fingers twitching at his sides. He had to do something .
He paused for a moment, clarity arriving a second too late, vague shapes forming in the shadows. Wait .
He didn’t wait. The impact of his fist shot through his skull. His phone clattered to the stone floor, screen up, the light from his lockscreen sort of blinding him. He gasped, his knees buckling a little bit, wincing in equal parts shock and thrill. He’d never hit himself so hard before. His eyes fluttered open. He kind of liked it.
His surroundings grew clearer as he kept going, relishing in the pain inside his head. With every strike, he relaxed more, the discomfort fading, the shriek in his mind softening to a hum.
At some point the clarity gave way to fuzziness, lines blurring, a pleasant buzzing enveloping his thoughts as the screaming pain dissolved to a dull ache. It was probably okay to go inside now. He’d set his stuff down, and say hi to An and Touya and Ken-san if he was home, and he’d go to bed and everything would be fine. And he’d come home eventually. Probably.
He struggled to stand straight, dizzy and disoriented in his satisfaction. It wasn’t far to the door. And then he could sit. He was tired, more exhausted than he remembered being in a while. Maybe he could just pop in to greet everyone and then go straight to bed.
The garage spun as his legs crumpled beneath him and Akito found himself on the floor. His head hit the stone with a crack, echoing around the quiet, empty room. He was more inconvenienced than anything. He tried to push himself back up. His limbs couldn’t seem to cooperate.
Despite the chill of the ground, Akito felt warm, sleepy, comfortable. He could take a nap here. Just for long enough to get his strength back. Just for long enough to make the world stop swimming.
He drew in a deep, shaky breath, letting the pounding in his head lull him to sleep.
“Is your dad home or no?” Touya asked, peering at An over the side of the bed. She shrugged as well as she could from where she was splayed on the floor. “He is, right?”
“I mean, I thought I heard the door open, but it’s been a second,” An replied. “Why? You want something?”
Touya sighed, following An’s gaze to the ceiling. She didn’t want to be annoying, or kill the mood by worrying, or make An think she wasn’t having a good time, but she was also pretty sure she heard the door open, and Akito hadn’t come in yet.
Then again. It was practically impossible for anything to happen to anyone in the two seconds it took to walk through a garage. It didn’t make any sense. There was nothing to worry about. There were plenty of things with engines and mechanisms in An’s house, plenty of things that could’ve made the same humming sound as a garage door. Shiraishi-san probably got distracted going off on some errand, or stuck in traffic, and Akito was never quite on time, always hung up somewhere running his dad’s errands or convincing his mother to let him go or doing whatever he did between school and nights at Ken’s if he didn’t go home. She was just being silly. Everything was fine.
“No, I’m okay,” she said, trying to let herself relax. She knew she was making something out of nothing. She was all too good at that.
“Okay!” An reached up to tap Touya’s ankle, holding up a picture of a small dog holding a balloon in its mouth on her phone. “Look. POV Akito when he does a good job at rehearsal.”
“Oh my God,” Touya giggled. “He’d get so mad at you if you said that.”
“I knoooowww,” An replied. “Wait, wait.” Touya rolled over onto her stomach, resting her chin in her hands expectantly for whatever An was going to pull up. “POV Akito when he does a bad job at rehearsal.”
Touya couldn’t stop herself from laughing out loud, taking An’s phone just to look at the picture closer— a tiny puppy sitting on its tail and scowling at the camera. “It’s so sad. Why are you so mean to him?” she teased. “Look at its face.”
“I’m mean to him ‘cause someone’s gotta be,” An joked. “Kohane loves him and you practically idolise the ground he walks on, I gotta keep his ego in check. Besides. What are friends for if not affectionate bullying?” She clambered up onto the bed next to Touya, gently pulling her phone back and sending the picture to the VBS group chat. “Speaking of Akito, where the fuck is that guy?”
“I’m saying!” Touya replied, way louder than she meant to. “I mean…” she took a deep breath, picking at a loose thread on An’s comforter. An was no stranger to her freakouts by now, but the last thing she wanted to do was be a controlling or demanding girlfriend. “I don’t know. And I swear I heard him come home.”
An shrugged, seemingly oblivious to Touya’s stress. “Stuff makes weird noises. Might’ve been the heater coming on or something. You can call him if you want. You’re his girlfriend. You’re definitely allowed.”
“I mean, yeah.” Touya shifted uncomfortably where she sat, staying focused on the stitches she was pulling out. “But I don’t want to bother him. I trust him. I know he’ll be here.” She did her best to let herself believe what she was saying. As guilty as she felt for setting her boyfriend aside in any capacity… she knew he’d want her to chill out and enjoy having fun. “It’s all good. I promise.”
“Alright!” An splayed herself out on the bed, letting her phone slowly slide off the bed. “What should we do?”
“Wasn’t there that video you wanted me to watch?”
“Right!” Delighted, An lunged for her laptop, dragging it onto the bed and sitting up against the headboard. “Sit,” she insisted, patting the spot next to her. “Thanks for reminding me! You’re the best.”
“Awww,” Touya replied, blushing a little bit as An wrapped her in a bear hug. “I’m glad. Thank you.”
“Yeah!” An pulled up YouTube as Touya watched over her shoulder with bright eyes. They leaned against each other, An snuggled tight against Touya’s arm, pausing the video every few seconds for An to explain something silly or Touya to make a joke. Neither of them noticed the shouting in the garage.
“Holy fucking mother of shit!” Ken spat, slamming on the brakes as his car screamed at him, red lights flashing from every direction. “What the fuck?”
The car shuddered to a stop, warning sirens still blaring even though Ken had turned the system off. “Christ. Jesus. Fucking. Shit.” He sat back in his seat, taking deep breaths to try and calm his racing heart. “What the fuck. What the fuck. Okay. Whuh.”
Shaking, he unbuckled his seatbelt and practically jumped out of the car, slamming the door behind him as he hurried around the hood. There— illuminated by the headlights, centimetres away from the front bumper, slumped on the floor, was Akito.
He almost looked like he was asleep, with his hoodie balled up and tucked under one of his arms, but his half-open eyelids showed nothing but white. Ken scrambled to his side, falling to his knees next to him, grabbing one of his shoulders with both hands and shaking. “Akito?” There was a small click as the car’s headlights turned off, leaving Ken in total darkness, but he didn’t care. “Akito? Fuck.”
With clumsy fingers, Ken picked up one of Akito’s wrists and tried to feel for a pulse, laying his other hand on Akito’s chest. His heart was beating. He was breathing. He was, at the very least, alive.
“Come on, kid,” Ken murmured, lightly tapping one of Akito’s cheeks. “Work with me.” He rolled Akito to his back and slid his arms underneath the boy’s shoulders, pulling Akito up into his lap and leaning him against his chest. “Wake up, kiddo.”
Akito didn’t respond. Didn’t even twitch. His head lolled on Ken’s shoulder, almost slipping off before Ken caught it and gently placed it back in the crook of his neck. “Kid,” Ken breathed. “Come on. Come on, you’re scaring me.”
At some point, he was supposed to call 119. He couldn’t remember when.
Softly, Akito stirred, just a bit, burrowing deeper into Ken’s chest, opening his mouth to take a breath, and Ken nearly cried with relief. “Akito, Christ, Akito, buddy,” he murmured, holding tight to the child in his arms. “Oh my God. What happened?”
Akito’s only reply was quiet, unintelligible mumblings. Obviously he probably wasn’t gonna be able to make a whole sentence. Ken had to take things a little slower than that.
“Do you remember how you got here, buddy?” he asked, gently repositioning Akito in his lap so Akito’s head was resting on his chest. “It’s okay either way.”
“Yeah,” Akito sighed. Ken sighed, rubbing his shoulders.
“Okay. Good. Do you know your name?”
“Akito. Ssnnnome,” Akito murmured, clearly exhausted, as if just two words had taken what was left of his energy— if he had any to begin with. Ken nodded, humming his approval.
“Okay. You don’t need to tell me anything.” He knew he should ask what the problem was, try to figure out how Akito had ended up like this and apologise for nearly running him over, and he knew an answer to one simple question wasn’t enough to verify that Akito was entirely there. Hesitantly, in the back of his mind, Ken knew he probably wasn’t, if only because Akito was laying in his lap and clinging to his shirt and didn’t seem to mind at all. “Let’s get you inside, okay? It’s cold out here. You want me to carry you?” He could get his phone and his bags from his car later— hell, they could stay there ‘til morning and all day afterward if they had to. “Come on.”
“I can walk,” Akito said, clawing at Ken’s shirt to sort of pull himself up. “I’ve got it.”
“You don’t got it, but okay,” Ken replied softly, helping Akito stand and putting his arm around Akito’s back to guide him. “Lean on me. Come on.”
Silently, Ken and Akito stumbled through the garage together, pausing every so often so Ken could make sure Akito wasn’t at risk of falling again. The door squeaked as Ken pushed it open, holding tight to Akito with one arm.
“Hey, Dad!” An shouted from somewhere upstairs. “What’s— uh.” She screeched to a halt at the end of the hall, staring in silent confusion as her dad slowly led a limp, miserable version of Akito across the floor, shuffling with his head bowed against her dad’s shoulder. “Uhh.”
Behind her, Touya let out a small squeak, both hands clapped over her mouth, eyes wide, horrified, desperate for answers. An could only shrug.
Touya hovered for a moment at the top of the stairs. Akito probably wouldn’t want her to check on him. Ken probably wanted his space. Did she care? Could she? The body Ken had been supporting had barely been recognisable as Akito’s. Had he always looked so… sickly? Had he always been so weak?
“I have to go,” she whispered, and An squeezed her hand, a sort of silent permission. Without looking back, she took off down the steps, leaving An alone in the dark hallway.
“Touya,” Ken sighed, barely glancing up from Akito as Touya came into the living room. “Hey.”
Touya stammered for a moment, trying to figure out what to say. What’s wrong with him? What did you do to him? Who hurt him? Is he alive? What took you so long? What are you doing to him now? The right thing to do would be to offer pleasantries, hello and good evening and how was work and can I get you some water. She knew what she was supposed to do. If there was one thing she was good at, it was politeness, respect towards authority.
It would only take a few seconds. But, behind Ken, squirming on An’s couch, was Akito, coughing and curled up in pain.
A few seconds was a few too many. Touya scurried into the living room, squatting at Akito’s side and taking one of his hands, kissing each of his knuckles and then his forehead. “You’re okay,” she mumbled, begging for him to say yes, he was, everything was fine. “Akito?”
Akito whined and turned away from her, wrapping his arms around his head and burrowing into the pillows. “Oh.” Touya leaned away from the couch, her hand trembling in midair, her eyes still glued to where Akito’s face would be if she could see it.
“Don’t take it personally,” Ken murmured, putting a hand on her back and following her gaze. “He’ll be okay.”
Touya barely remembered to breathe. Akito was so thin. He’d only looked at her for a second, but his eyes… they’d glazed over in a way she’d only seen a few times before, only when his usual therapeutic tendencies hadn’t been enough, so he’d turned to something harder. “Is he okay?”
Ken was quiet.
“Do you know what happened to him?” Touya asked, feeling herself begin to freeze inside as dread and sorrow spread through her. Ken-san said nothing. That was as good an answer as any.