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“Hoeru. You already lost so much. You can never get it back. You’re just junk for life. You’re damaged goods.”
Hoeru had no reason to recall those words that day.
He was working at yet another part time job, this time at a small used bookstore. It was going well enough for the first few days; perhaps it would even last long enough to make it to payday.
He was tasked with stocking some shelves with some books that were recently donated. He wasn’t very good at it, knowing the correct shelf for each book and the order they were supposed to be in. He was pretty much just winging it; he doubted the customers even cared as long as they could find the right book eventually.
He wasn’t paying much attention to what the books actually were. His thoughts were more concentrated on what he could eat later. He hadn’t eaten since lunch the previous day, trying to save money and not put too much on his tab again. But maybe since this job was going well, he could treat himself later…
That train of thought took a wrong turn as he grabbed a book out of the box and got a glimpse of the title etched in bold letters on the worn spine.
Damaged Goods.
Hoeru hurriedly stuffed the book on the shelf. Those words were still staring directly at him.
He turned the book around so the pages were facing the outside, so no one could see that title. So Hoeru didn’t have to see that title.
He tried to carry on with the job, slowly putting a few more books on the shelves.
But he slowed down more and more until he stopped completely, left shaking in front of the shelves. He couldn’t even bend down to pick up another book.
The titles on display in front of him started to blur and blend together, slipping off of the book bindings into a puddle of sludge on the floor.
He shook his head, blinking a few times. The words were where they were supposed to be.
“Toono! You shelved these all wrong! Can you come fix them please?”
The store manager calling for him sounded so far away, yet it echoed and made his ears ring.
“Hoeru…”
Kuon’s voice chimed in his head, loud and clear enough as if he were right next to him.
Hoeru took a step back, looking around. He stumbled into the shelves behind him.
The structure toppled forward, crashing down into the next shelf. Books slid out, raining down onto the floor. No one was standing in the way, thankfully, though the few customers and other employees standing nearby jumped back and cried out as they were startled by the sight and noise.
“WHAT THE HELL IS HAPPENING?!” the manager roared.
Hoeru ran out of that place before he could be formally fired.
It was one of the few times he could understand why it ended up that way; someone could have really gotten hurt, and it would have been his fault…
His steps remained unsteady for his entire walk of shame back to Tega Sword Village. His uncoordinated movements and blurry vision made him bump into some people along the way, which wasn’t received kindly at all.
“Oi! Watch where you’re going!”
“Are you drunk?! Piece of shit…”
Hoeru wasn’t drunk, but he wished he was. Maybe that would silence the voice in his head, and maybe this dizziness and pounding in his head would be numb.
Every time he tried to blink, images would flash into his mind. And every flash would make everything feel more severe. Harder to ignore.
He stumbled through the front doors, falling to the floor as soon as he got through. He thought he would hear Kinjiro running to help him up or Ryugi scolding him for making a scene. But there was silence…Right. Kinjiro had school, and Ryugi was probably making a delivery or something. And everyone else was probably busy.
And Hoeru was alone.
Maybe that was a good thing. He didn’t want to be seen like this, by anyone.
He dragged himself upstairs to his room, kicking off his shoes and flopping down onto his futon. His stomach rumbled, but he ignored it.
He rolled onto his back, staring up at the ceiling. He shut his eyes, doing his best to push his swirling thoughts of his mind. He could just sleep it off. Yeah, he could just sleep for a bit, and it would all be gone. Maybe he wouldn’t even be hungry anymore.
He lay still, his eyes remained closed. When he didn’t immediately fall asleep, he tried to open them again, but he felt as if a pair of hands were keeping them closed.
Familiar hands. Hands that were like his, but not quite…
His body stiffened, his hands balling into fists, his nails digging into his skin.
Memories of the No One World pulsed in and out of view. Monsters, darkness, Mine disappearing, being separated from his brother—
Brother
Brotherbrotherbrother—
“Hoeru. You’re damaged goods.”
Hoeru shot up, choking on the breath he rasped in, clutching at his neck.
What he suddenly…remembered? No, he couldn’t remember that. That was fake. His brain just made that up. Brains do crazy stuff sometimes, don’t they?
It had to be fake. His brother wouldn’t do that, not to him—
Would he? Hoeru didn’t really knew Kuon anymore…Maybe he never did, if this is what his brain decided was a great time to recall.
Hoeru found himself dry heaving, doubling over as he tried to stand up, his legs shaking as he pulled himself out of his room. It didn’t feel safe in there anymore, all of a sudden.
He stumbled down the stairs, nearly knocking the Tega Sword figurine over in the process. The café was still empty. For a moment, Hoeru was grateful for that. But then, he suddenly felt afraid. He couldn’t stop shaking, and his breaths rushed in and out of him quickly.
What is this? I feel like I’m gonna die…
He couldn’t fight this alone.
He climbed onto one of the stools at the counter, his hands searching his pockets for his phone. Looking through the contacts of the others, there was only one he could call at a time like this.
There was only one person who could understand.
A voice. “Hoeru-kun?”
“Come over,” Hoeru choked out. “Just…I…”
“Hold on, I—”
Hoeru didn’t hear the rest. He let his phone fall to the floor. The screen probably cracked again, because of course it would.
He just needed to wait…Just a little while, right? But just how long was that? How much longer until someone would just make this stop?
What if it never stopped?
Hoeru found himself dragging along to the other side of the counter, where a notepad lay with a pencil, pen, and a permanent marker. Things Ryugi used for keeping track of notes and orders in the café. The marker in particular was used for writing labels
Hoeru would use it to label something too.
Shouldering his jacket off and letting it fall to the floor, he pressed the tip of the marker to the skin of his forearm.
Writing it down would get the words out of his head, right?
But as the tip trailed the ink into his skin, his brother’s voice just got louder and louder.
“Damaged goods. Damaged goods. Damaged goods.”
“Hoeru-kun!”
Hoeru tensed at the sound of Rikuo’s voice.
He had already finished writing those words onto himself. He had just been standing there, staring at the black ink trails forming into the words that just wouldn’t leave him alone.
He slowly turned to face Rikuo, his heart aching at the state his kind of-sort of boyfriend found him in. Granted, he had called him for help in the first place.
But still…it was embarrassing as hell when the tears started streaming as soon as he saw him.
“Hoeru-kun…” Rikuo approached, clearly cautious but caring. “It’s okay.”
Hoeru jerked away, squeezing his eyes shut as he shook his head. No. It’s not okay.
“Shh, come on.” Rikuo took hold of Hoeru’s shoulders, gently pushing him along to one of the tables.
Hoeru fell into a chair. He heard Rikuo taking the chair next to him, still a careful distance away. Or so he thought, but then he felt his hand brush against his arm, making him retreat further away, trying to take up as little space as he could. He folded his arms and rested them on the table, burrowing his head against them.
“You’re okay, okay?” Rikuo’s soft voice sounded so far away, just like what happened in the store.
That meant Hoeru was moments away from fucking up again.
He shook his head, his hair getting all messed up in the process. He couldn’t find it in himself to speak, only letting out a quiet whine. His hand felt the arm he had written on, his fingers pressing into the inked in words.
God, why did he do that? What he did just mere moments ago didn’t make sense anymore. Now that he wrote those words, in permanent ink no less, he really was stuck like this way, forever.
“You’re just junk for life. You’re damaged goods.”
No…No, I don’t want to be…
His nails dug into his skin, scratching back and forth. This could erase it, right?
“Hoeru-kun.”
Rikuo’s voice was close again. Firm but gentle.
Hoeru’s head lifted just enough to look at him, his vision bleary.
Rikuo took Hoeru’s marked up, scratched up arm, his soft hands gently petting it. “Take some deep breaths with me, okay?”
Hoeru followed Rikuo as he guided him though holding and letting out the breaths. It didn’t make him feel any calmer, but it let him be grounded enough that he was able to realize just how fucked this was.
And with that clarity, he was able to recognize the possibility that what happened in the past wasn’t his fault.
But why did it have to happen to me?
That lingering question kept the tears flowing.
“I’ll be right back,” Rikuo said, slowly getting up, brushing his hand over Hoeru’s messy hair before stepping away. “Keep up breathing, okay?”
Hoeru did as he was told, focusing on the breaths to keep himself from breaking down again.
Rikuo returned with a plate of omurice, freshly microwaved, and a glass of water.
“We noticed you didn’t eat last night,” he said. “Ryugi prepped it for you.”
Hoeru practically inhaled the meal. And once he had food and water in his system, he felt a little more…functional? Not that the emotions wracking through him suddenly disappeared or anything, but at least he felt like he could exist without being crushed by them.
He managed to not recoil as Rikuo’s knuckles brushed against his cheek.
“The marker should come out if you keep washing it for a few days,” he said. “Do you want me to help you with that now?”
“Maybe later,” Hoeru said, his voice small and hoarse. “Can you just…stay with me for a bit first?”
Rikuo smiled, leaning in to kiss his forehead. “Of course I can.”
The corner of Hoeru’s mouth managed to twitch upwards, the smallest effort of a smile.
He took Rikuo’s hand and let him guide him back to his room. They lay down on the futon together, and Hoeru let himself curl up in Rikuo’s arms.
He still wasn’t exactly okay, especially with those words still inked to his arm. But Kuon’s voice had quieted down inside his head.
It would probably come back another day. And it wouldn’t be any easier to deal with.
He would have to be prepared for when that happened, and remember he had someone to lean on.