Chapter Text
“I’m home.”
No response. Well, he only said that in case his mother hadn’t left for her own appointment yet. Josh locked the door with a deep sigh before he went to his room.
He took off his shoes and placed them by his desk. Before changing the rest of his clothes, Josh bent over by his nightstand to plug his phone in the charger. As he straightened his posture, he made eye contact with his reflection on the mirror.
Slowly, his expression turned somber.
He recalled what started it all.
“Mom, what is this…?”
“You made it up! And you made me believe it! You made dad and I believe it!”
“Explain what?! That I’ve been living a lie my entire life?! That I’ve been treated badly by other people over something that never existed?!”
“THIS IS ALL YOUR FAULT!”
Josh relaxed his gritted teeth. As much as he still felt the heaviness of the shock like it just happened right now, he couldn’t be mad at his mother anymore. She didn’t do it for control. She didn’t do it out of malice.
She was traumatized, and that thing was an escapism that grew up with her.
Nothing was the same since. His father wasn’t the same. His mother wasn’t the same. He wasn’t the same. The chattering and laughter amongst them about this fake ruler was replaced by an eerie silence. The enthusiastic “good morning, mom” now low and sometimes not even heard, that was if he said it in the first place.
Josh studied his own appearance. With the truth landing, and with him realizing that, actually, it was all too flipping ridiculous to believe, he desired change. He couldn’t stand looking in the mirror and still seeing that foolish kid staring back at him. It made his stomach churn. It made him feel trapped in this part of his life.
Perhaps his makeover was out of compulsion, but it could also mean growth.
Josh reached behind his head, slipping off his black hair tie and letting his hair fall down to his chin. It was split almost evenly, his pink roots and the white dye. He wasn’t sure if he wanted to cover it all again once he was due for a haircut.
His clothing style was different. Every piece was solid black, but that was only because he didn’t have the guts to wear one of his lousy, graphic T-shirts. It scared him, like he was still wearing that stupid symbol.
Even his face was different. He looked tired, his eyelids halfway through closing his eyes. The dark circles demonstrated his sleepless nights thinking of his previous years, or maybe it was the depression and guilt for what he could’ve been…or the hours he spent crying until his eyes and stomach hurt.
Below his right eye and on his forehead were small square bandages. The anxiety that his past remained clutched to him made him let it all out in…less than ideal ways. He hoped that they didn’t leave scars. Well, at least he was…trimming his nails more often? Hey, don’t get the wrong message. He routinely did…just not excessively and not to the point his fingertips ached.
Oh, how convenient. Mentioning all of this anxiety and excessive behavior, the desperate attempts at erasing all traces of that flipping cult-follower Josh…now he was on medical treatment because of it. Actually, he thought of whether or not he was compulsive before, but he knew that this was when it got him on a chokehold.
…he wasn’t upset. If anything, he felt all of his muscles relaxing once he learned why on earth he felt out of control and his own body. And it turned out, all he needed to turn over a white page was to simply intend it. He only felt bad that he didn’t process this before he started punishing himself for getting into this position.
Josh’s eyes took himself up and down. The new school year was to start next week, and he felt as if his blood pressure dropped whenever he thought of how people would perceive him. Oh, how bad he wanted to scream out “I’m not this kind of person anymore” to them all, but that wasn’t any different than the rest of his behavior.
He didn’t owe anyone an explanation; that was what his therapist said. He should learn to live with the fact that some people would still see that weirdo (he didn’t say that word) in him, even if it hurt. And it hurt so bad.
But it was only a matter of time before all of it was forgotten, right? People would see a different shine in his eyes (if he still had one), or he’d become more open to speaking about his life. One day, just one day, it would be like that disgusting Josh never existed, and he yearned for that time.
Josh turned away with a huff and finally got to change to his homewear. He went to his closet for a jacket. It was much easier looking through his clothes now that he burned his old symbolic pieces down, even if that was also out of compulsion. At this point, he wondered if there was any decision he made with a sane mind.
But that wasn’t a problem, was it? That was one less thing to obsess over.
…
Josh turned to the door as he heard the clicking of keys behind it. His father walked in, on his expression a different kind of tiredness. Once they made eye contact, they were quick to turn these frowns upside down, as forced as it was.
In a few moments, the man joined his son on the couch, now in his own comfortable wear. The television was on, but it felt like their eerie silence was louder. Neither of them were paying attention to that documentary because of how heavy the atmosphere felt.
Josh didn’t like that. It had been two months since everything happened. He thought that, by now, everyone would’ve healed, and they would be happier than ever before. It turned out that he underestimated this situation, or that he was far too eager for everything to be forgotten like it never happened. Side-eying his father, Josh wondered if the gloom in his eyes told that he was thinking of the same thing.
“Josh.” The boy immediately looked away. His father kept his lips apart for a moment. “Are you still mad at your mother?”
Josh actually flinched, his eyes clenching shut. “No.” He choked out. “…what about you?”
“I’ve never been.”
That was an insanely huge relief. There was so much screaming and crying that day that Josh felt like he was watching his family fall apart. Alongside his more personal anxieties, he was waiting for the moment his parents would call him over and tell him that they ”needed to have a talk.” The entire time, he was thinking of how to balance between staying over at his mother’s and at his father’s.
But his father was wise. He wasn’t blinded by anger and shock to not notice that his mother really needed help. While his son blamed her for all his issues stemming from his odd beliefs, he realized how she so seriously believed it. He realized how weird she looked at Josh once he found the “evidence” on her computer, like she actually didn’t know what he was talking about. She genuinely thought that this “Kratok” thing was sending her messages.
“Is that, by any chance, related to the fact that I don’t know any of my relatives?”
The man’s expression turned blank. That was enough of a response for Josh.
…it was. As he learned these beliefs’ origins, his wife’s strange answers became clear, and so did his family’s concerns about his marriage to her. They were abandoned because they knew that his wife “was nuts.” It hurt. It hurt that they chose to cut off all ties instead of suggesting medical help, or at least make things clearer in his eyes, and he’d take it from there.
If only they just…told him that his wife’s “niche interests” were signs of an underlying condition…then Josh wouldn’t have grown up without aunts and uncles.
“You think we could patch things up now?”
“I don’t know, Josh.” The man sighed. He really couldn’t see a good outcome; with how unsupportive both sides of the family had been, they’d either keep rubbing it on their faces, or they’d still look at his wife with such annoying, pitiful looks, if not pure disgust.
He hoped he could have his family back. He knew that his wife thought the same thing, and he knew that this almost childish shine in Josh’s eyes told that he, too, wanted his family to become big.
…but he was scared that, in the end, they’d all say that things were better before.
“I hope so.” Josh averted his gaze, bringing a knee to his chest. But as soon as he said it, he realized how mixed his feelings were about those people. As much as he missed them, even though he never saw them, he was angry. He was angry that they left and let things go this far, especially his mother’s side. They ought to be aware of her rough background, yet they chose to let her suffer alone instead of helping her pick herself up again. They made her go this far.
Josh was snapped out of his thoughts when his father gently placed his hand on his clenched fist. With a sad sigh, he let his hand and all tensed muscles relax. He quickly glanced at his father and, pushing away his hesitation, rested his side against him. His father withdrew his hand, but only to wrap it around his back and bring him closer.
…
Josh jolted awake. Not because of the sound of shuffling keys behind the door, but because he didn’t expect to fall asleep at that moment. Looking over to his father, he found that he had the same outcome.
“I’m home.” A quiet, feminine voice spoke. Josh looked over the couch, observing his mother as she locked the door, her back hunched. When she turned to his direction, she gave him a smile, her hesitation and guilt showing through.
“How was your appointment?”
The woman kept her lips parted for a moment, eyes darting all over the carpeted floor. “Fine, I think. It was the usual.” She stammered with a quick shrug, kicking off her shoes by the door. “I’ll go change now. When do you want to have dinner?”
“Usual timing?”
“Sure thing…sweetheart.” She pattered towards the stairs, heading up to her room.
Josh kept his gaze even after she was out of sight. He sighed as he rested his back against the couch, his hands held together over his lap. He heard his mother’s footsteps again; he knew that she stopped to see if he would mutter something mean under his breath.
Josh squeezed his fingers. She was still thinking of his insults that day, wasn’t she? Now it was his turn to feel guilty. He wanted to excuse himself, that he wasn’t thinking straight through all the rage and confusion, and that hey, maybe she was actually to blame! After all, she was the one who made it up and taught it to him! But oh, no. No, no, no, no. She wasn’t purposely being harmful. She was just…a little lost, that was all.
Maybe it was his fault. Maybe he should’ve realized how nobody believed the things he did. Maybe he should’ve asked questions a little earlier. Or was it his father’s fault? He didn’t stop her! But…he fell for it just like he did.
With a loud exhale, Josh leaned his body forward, elbows on his knees and face in his hands. He didn’t know what to think. He didn’t know who to blame, if there was anyone to blame. Maybe it was everyone’s fault. Maybe it was nobody’s fault. He wished that he wasn’t so confused and conflicted.
He wished that none of this had happened at all.
————
What remained of summer break felt like it passed in the blink of an eye.
Josh sat on his bed, ready to leave but waiting for his mother to give him the cue. He wasn’t ready. People would be staring. Well, people always stared, but this time it would be because of something different. He fought against the impulse of chopping his hair off and changing into anything most similar to what he used to wear, just so they’d feel like everything was the same.
Josh squeezed his backpack. One thing that gave him comfort was the teal ribbon pin he decorated it with. He was still unsure of whether or not this was a good idea, but it wasn’t like people really knew what it meant, isn’t that right? They’d probably dismiss it as another symbol related to…the whole…frog thing…
He sighed.
There was a knock on his door. “All ready, sweetie. I’ll wait for you outside!”
No need to wait; he was already getting up. He threw his backpack over his shoulders and gave himself one last glance in the mirror. He quickly adjusted his headwear. It was like this was the only thing that didn’t change about him, but it was a beanie this time. He needed something on his head or else he’d have red trailing down his face and nape halfway through the school day.
He looked presentable, right? He wore a black shirt again, but this one had vaporwave prints on it. He had to gather all of his guts to allow it over his skin. Now that he was more adjusted to it, he realized how cool it was. Perhaps it could be his new favorite shirt.
His pants seemed fine. They were a pair of grey jeans that he hadn’t worn in…about a year, maybe. Neither his eating nor his workout habits changed over the time, but he was still surprised that they loosely fit.
Another bold step was to wear those yellow sneakers. They weren’t related to the stupid frog, but he would always get so anxious about getting them dirty whenever he considered putting them on. So what if they did? They’d just get washed. This stuff happened with all clothes.
He was just starting to smile in pride at his drastic change, but his lips curled down into a frown faster once he processed how anxiety-inducing it was thinking about his schoolmates’ reactions. He was quick to reconsider if he should really go. But it was the first day; not everyone went, so that meant less eyes and a chance to get himself comfortable.
You know what? Whatever. there was no need to overthink it; if he skipped today, then he’d still be scared tomorrow. Might as well just get it over with.
Briefly brushing his ponytail with his fingers, Josh exited his room and went down the stairs.