Work Text:
The summer sun was hot. School was finally over — at least until you hit the next school year. But until then, there was bliss.
The graduation ceremonies had been unexciting. It wasn't as if you were moving into university right away, so no organizing or parties had been given to your grade. In fact, all grandeur had already been gifted to the departing alumni, leaving the rest of the grades listening to a droning assembly about family, ‘school pride', and education. When it was over, you were eager to spend the rest of the day out with your friends. The early dismissal had been a farewell present from the school. They chattered and you laughed with them, your heart light. However, before you could go, you had to grab your stuff from your locker. You left the group of your cherished friends at the door and dashed up the stairs. Your eyes scanned the locker room and fell on the figure blocking your way. Your cheeriness was dashed immediately.
"Kurashiki…san?" you asked, confused as to why he would be waiting here. He had his arms crossed loosely against his body, and his eyes were narrow. He looked like he was perpetually glaring at everybody. His silvery hair gleamed gently in the dull lighting of the locker room.
"Yeah, um, I needed to ask you something. Can you do me a favour?" He looked at you when you called his name and wasted no time in talking. He started to walk towards you, but you took a hesitant step back.
Aoi Kurashiki had been in your homeroom. However, you hardly knew anything about him, except for the fact that he was a real troublemaker. He'd always be in fights, whether they were violent or simply snarky remarks. Rumors would float around that he had killed somebody, and that was why he was so quiet. Others stated that he was plain dumb — an airhead with a taste for blood. You didn't care. You just took it upon yourself to steer clear of him as soon as he would even start to look in your direction. It had worked — the boy never noticed you, and you were safe. But now, his piercing eyes focused solely on you, and nobody was around to help. You swallowed thickly.
"Anything," you said quickly, in the hopes that he wouldn't hurt you. Your voice shuddered. His face was still slashed with a frown, so deep that you could easily mistake the 15-year-old boy for a grown, tired man. He stepped closer to you still. His height, and his position above you on the stairs made him loom like a giant. Your heart thudded steadily. Stairs…? Would he go so far as to push you? Your hand clutched the railing so tightly that your knuckles began to blanch.
"I'm not going to do anything to you," he sighed, after realizing why you were so stiff. He cracked his neck to the side absentmindedly. You followed the motion with your eyes and decided to stare at his scarf. Making eye-contact with him might aggravate the boy. The fabric was a deep blue, much like the noon sky outdoors. You shook your thoughts and tried to focus.
"Then what do you want… oh. My money?" Your gaze flicked to your locker, where your schoolbag sat. "I think I might have some change. That's all, though..."
"Are you kidding me? I'm not going to take your fucking money." The boy's dirty mouth made his tone seem harsh, but his body language was still relaxed. He shook his head as if in disbelief. "Damn. Who do you think I am?"
"U-um," you stammered, pretty sure that he would not like your answer. "Then what do you want from me?"
He stared at you again. His eyes were disturbing, in their pale coolness. You could almost see the sparks lighting up behind them. A faraway thought flitted to you. Those eyes could never belong to a loon. He was no idiot — perhaps his test scores were average, but you couldn't think of this boy as a moron. He had an edge to him, something hidden away but chilling nonetheless.
He was saying something now. You pulled yourself out of your memories and struggled to follow with what you'd tuned out on. Unfortunately, you couldn't process what he had said, until the last word.
"…right?"
Your stomach dropped when you realized you'd have to ask him to repeat himself. In fact, you were too timid to say anything, so instead, you nodded shakily.
Argh! You idiot! What did you just agree to?!
A more confident, mental version of you groaned with frustration, but dread had seized you so tightly that you could scarcely breathe. Kurashiki stopped talking and looked at you with a curiosity.
"What's wrong with you?" he asked suspiciously.
"Nothing!" you squeaked.
He raised an eyebrow almost lazily. "Okay. What did I just say?"
You were quiet. Blood drained from your face. You could feel yourself going cold. As you licked your lips, you muttered — your smartass taking over for just a few seconds —
"Words?"
Suddenly, as if stormy clouds had broken open, he smiled. He grinned. He was smiling! A boy that you'd never seen remotely happy before was practically beaming in front of you. And, even more impossible… he laughed.
"Damn. You're just like her." He was still chortling, and you could scarcely understand his clipped vowels. He uncrossed his arms and put them into his pockets instead, still laughing when he looked down at you. "My kid sis."
Something irked you that he would take you, a proud 14-year-old, to be a child. You ignored the annoyance. You just had to do his favour, and then you'd be free from that powerful gaze. You cleared your throat nervously.
"So… how long will this take?" you hoped that with the right questions, the task at hand would reveal itself to you without you needing to ask him. Besides, it was important to know how long you needed to be away, because your friends were surely still waiting.
"Oh. Um… I dunno… maybe a while. I'm not really good at it. It's my first time…" He looked away, his pale skin starting to turn a rosy red. His voice became eerily quiet. You gaped. Was he blushing?
If you weren't so surprised, you might've thought it cute. Kurashiki had only even been seen scowling or annoyed, so the sudden change in character was incredible. A miracle, even. However, his words caught up to you, and you understood why he was so embarrassed. Did he want to… do it?
"Uh…" You felt a few nervous tears prick your eyes. "I don't know if I can… do that for you… it's my first time too, and I'm kind of… saving it. You know? Please don't be mad!" You pleaded at the end quickly, closing your eyes and clasping your hands together in prayer.
"What? What do you mean, ‘it's your first time'? And what the hell are you saving?"
You opened one eye to see him staring at you, so taken aback he had even stepped backwards. You took the chance to advance, placing a foot on the floor, off of the brick steps.
"Well, you said this was your first time too! You should know… what I'm talking about!" Your face felt like it was burning with a thousand suns. Your neck itched with worry. Your hands clenched each other to hold yourself back from screaming. Was he just screwing around with you, now?
"How can it be your first time?" he looked less angry and more dumbfounded. "I saw you doing it!"
"What?!" How could he have 'seen' you? It wasn't as if you had ever done anything dirty for him to see. Was he interpreting some weird situation that could have been misleading?
"Cooking, stupid!"
The exasperated insult offended you deeply. You didn't want to be called that. Before you could yell back at him, the witty retort caught in your throat. Cooking?
You substituted ‘cooking' for the other thing you were thinking of, and it clicked. The rush in your ears began to die down as you had the epiphany.
"You… want me to teach you how to cook?"
"Well, don't say it so loudly!" He was still blushing, and somehow still reddening — his previously milky skin was now a beet purple, contrasting frighteningly against his white hair. "I…" he looked to the side, avoiding you. "I'll tell you later. Just come with me, okay?"
"Hey, wait, I never agreed yet!" You had gained a burst of confidence after seeing Kurashiki so vulnerable before you. Your fear eased away. He was just some other guy. The thought strengthened you.
"Yeah, you did. You said ‘anything'. This is anything, ain't it?"
You began to walk to your locker, calmly collecting your items. He moved out of your way and followed, far behind.
"Well, Kurashiki-san… I'll probably help you, okay? But not today. I already have plans." You refused to look at him, brushing past his lithe body once more to get to the staircase.
He slammed a hand down on yours when it touched the railing, and you screeched with surprise. You craned your neck back to look at him. He was surprisingly close, leaning forwards, his attempt to stop you placing him at a high risk of falling. His safety balanced on the hand pressing against yours. Your heart began to beat erratically.
"You're like, the best cook. Everybody praises you. So, goddammit, help me."
That wasn't surprising. Your friends were loudmouths and went on and on about your cooking — you had been bombarded with requests for food, and nobody stopped asking until you gave in. Your classmates were even louder and boasted about 1-A's Master Chef. You had thought it to be stupid and ignored it — eventually, the glamour died down, and you were just the girl who sat in the middle once more. You were still sort of shocked that Kurashiki had listened. You didn't think he had listened to anything regarding somebody as plain as you.
"Please." He sounded as if he was struggling immensely to get that out. You swallowed.
"I'm really not…" you tried to protest, wiggling your fingers. His hand was hot over yours.
"I need to learn. Now." His voice was steady, but there were hints of desperation. His voice even cracked towards the end.
"Why?" you asked. You stared at your hand. His was still pressing down on yours, as if to ground you in place.
"Because… ah, shit. Whatever." He withdrew, pulling himself back up to the top step easily. You turned around to face him, but he was just running his hands through his hair. He glanced at you briefly before turning away. "Forget it. If you don't want to, that's fine."
"Wait. Kurashiki, wait!" You had to chase after him, because he wouldn't stop — only when you managed to grab the back of his jacket did he quit moving. You breathed heavily, trying to catch your breath. "Why… do you need to know how to cook so badly?"
He hesitated. You felt his body freeze under your fingertips. You let go of him, but he waited before turning. His face was solemn and even pained.
"…I need to know for my sister."
You'd heard about the sister twice now, and inquired further.
"Why?"
He sighed. "You never stop with the questions, do you?" He then stopped himself, and his brow furrowed together. "…sorry," he muttered. You blinked.
"It's okay. Tell me about your sister."
He sucked his teeth reluctantly before his shoulders slumped. He looked like a robot, deactivating itself. "She's… she's 12. She doesn't know how to make food, either, so we always have to eat out... it's not like that's healthy, y'know? And I can tell she's getting sick of it, but I don't know how to make a damn egg without blowing shit up." He started to hastily cover his low voice with a burst of fiery temper, but the damage was done. Your heart felt like it was being yanked at.
"What about your parents?" you asked. He looked to the wall, his lips drawn into a tight line.
"They're dead."
"Oh." The statement was much too lame for the severity of his response, but you couldn't say anything else. Had he been raising his younger sister, all by himself, the entire time? It made more sense. Why he was always moody, and tired, and willing to fight other people about meaningless things. And, if he kept his grades at a solid medium, nobody would berate him over a D, and nobody would pay attention to an A. You felt yourself about to cry again, but for a different reason.
"I'll help you," you declared. You apologized mentally to your friends, who were still downstairs, and probably worried. You would have to take the back exit, because, despite your heroic tone, you were afraid to be seen with Kurashiki. He stared at you, surprised with the sudden change of heart.
"Okay. …thanks." He spun on his heel and began to stalk heavily towards the fire escape, despite not even knowing that you wanted to go that way anyways. He probably took the quieter exit on a daily basis. It drew less attention.
You followed him like a clingy puppy, having to jog at some places. He led you out the schoolyard into an unfamiliar neighbourhood. You walked after him, but stared down at your phone, texting your friends and your parents. You were also a little nervous, following a boy — a practical stranger — home. You steeled yourself but kept looking down at the phone surface. When your parents replied with a ‘Love you!' your heart felt heavy. Aoi probably hadn't heard that in years.
It gave you a disadvantage of not being able to see and you ran into a stopped Kurashiki, nearly bowling him over. He steadied you with an outstretched arm, his touch still like fire to you.
"Watch where you're going," he muttered, but it wasn't a derisive tone.
He left you standing there to unlock a front door. You realized, after a slow connection, that it must be his house. If his parents had passed away like he said, then it was just him and a 12-year-old girl: his sister. The house was incredibly small and almost shaped like a complete box, if not for the slanted roof. You didn't think you could manage being cooped up in a space like that. Much less with somebody else.
You followed him inside. You expected a mess — from two children — but it was surprisingly tidy. Small pictures in simple frames lined the walls. You saw Kurashiki and a swaddled baby. The sister. You also saw other adults, and you deduced them to be the deceased parents. You looked away.
He threw his bag down onto an ordinary couch and walked into the kitchen that was separated from the living room by a few measly steps and two half-walls. The kitchen's opening was in between the two slabs. The partition's surfaces were lined with toys: either dolls or small stuffed animals.
"Akane's," he said once he saw you looking at them. You glanced up. He was scratching his head and looked to the left quickly when your eyes met. "My sister's."
You nodded in understanding and headed towards him. The kitchen was small, and almost claustrophobic with the kitchen table crammed into the corner. You laid your bag onto it. You looked back over the toy covered wall into the living room. It was small and had a very old looking TV, one with an antenna sticking out like the television was one, big bug. The shelves were lined, to the brim, with books. The coffee table, which sat between a single three-seater sofa and the TV, had papers scattered over it. Since you weren't very far, you could read the covers of some books holding down the loose-leaf. However, they were filled with large words you couldn't even begin to understand, despite the fact that you were an avid reader yourself. They weren't just paperweights, either. Colourful tape stuck out of the pages like multiple tongues, clearly bookmarking things. The books had definitely been read. You looked at Kurashiki with large eyes.
"Are those yours?" you asked, jerking a thumb back to the living room. He shrugged.
"Akane and I work on problems together. She likes doing them."
You sighed quietly with a breath of disbelief. Not one, but two damn geniuses.
"Anyways, I don't know how you want to begin…" He looked sheepish and leant against the kitchen sink, folding his arms. "I've got some stuff in the fridge. So, like… do your thing? I guess."
You laughed a bit at his sheer awkwardness. You tied your hair back quickly and checked in the fridge. There was also a pantry, which was bountiful and full of everything you might need. You wondered what to start with, bending over to look more closely at an old label. You looked back at Kurashiki, whose head was turned deliberately to the wall. You ignored it and instead, opened the fridge, and collected two eggs. Hopefully, the boy would not blow things up. A distant, dry thought came to mind as you searched for a pan and a little oil. He could probably assemble a bomb if he wanted, given his smarts that you were only now just learning about, but he couldn't make a stir-fry? You shook your head to clear your thoughts and then looked at him expectantly.
"Let's get started."
---
Surprisingly, he was an extremely fast learner. Even in the span of a few days, he could do things like mince garlic as quickly as you, which he took no modesty in.
"See, Akane? I'm going to be the best freakin' chef the world's seen!"
The young girl offered to help, but her brother shooed her away. When you asked why, he told you that he was afraid she'd burn or cut herself. You still smiled at the memory. He was an excellent father-figure. You mused as you dried the dishes with a cloth — after all, he'd insisted on washing — if he was the father, did you become the mother? You gently shook your head. That was silly.
"What's up?" he asked, handing you a plate. You blinked, and then flushed when you remembered what you were just thinking about.
"Nothing," you mumbled hastily, placing the dish down gently. You were quiet for a few moments before a question popped into your head. You were very comfortable around Aoi now, unlike when you'd first talked to him. He'd let you see a side to his life that you were sure nobody else had saw — somehow, it made you trust him.
"Spit it out." Despite the words that could be taken as rude, you knew he was just putting up a strong front. You pursed your lips.
"Why were you so intent on asking me to teach you on the last day of school? You could have asked me any other day."
He looked surprised and nearly dropped a bowl from his soapy hands. He caught it swiftly and kept looking at you, though his ears were red.
"Oh, uh… because… I was nervous to talk to you. Around a whole bunch of people." He thrust the dish to you and you nearly let it fall to the ground, hastily bouncing it around your hands. He spoke with great speed, words tumbling over one another. "Besides, if I waited any longer, it'd be weird if I came to your house. So that's why I asked you."
You looked behind you when papers rustled. Akane sat, cross-legged on the ground, studying the advanced books on the coffee table. The sight still gave you chills.
"Also…" Aoi muttered. You looked back to him.
"Hm?" you asked.
"I'm moving away."
The words shocked you silent. You felt very cold, despite the heat radiating from outside, and the sink full of hot water. You were still disoriented when he handed you the knife, and you sliced your finger on it.
"Ah, son of a b…" you held your tongue for Akane's sake and shoved your finger into your mouth. The knife he'd been holding clattered into the sink. Aoi immediately moved closer to you, craning his head to see your injury. He was so close to you that his stray hairs brushed your forehead, like a cat's whiskers. You accidentally looked into his mint eyes.
"Is it bad?" he asked, hurriedly but hushed, not wanting to alarm his sister. You didn't feel any pain, but when you looked at your finger to check, blood oozed out like an angry spring. You shoved it back into your mouth. The rusty taste made you feel sick. He turned away and pulled down a box of gauze and bandages you had gotten for the duo, after being told they didn't have any first-aid at home. He gestured at you. "Let me see that."
You waited until he was prepped before hesitantly extending your finger. He pressed an alcohol soaked cotton ball on it. You squirmed, hissing quietly. The stinging was intense.
"What kind of idiot grabs a knife by the blade…" he muttered to himself, wrapping a bandage around your finger carefully. You pulled it back when he was finished like he was burning you, and didn't even bother to examine his handiwork. You turned away.
"Where are you moving?" you asked after a short silence, staring out the window. His lawn was overgrown with dandelions and green patches of clover. The yellow blossoms bounced in the wind.
"I dunno yet."
You shot your gaze to him. "What do you mean, you don't know?"
He shrugged, leaning against the counter and joining you to look out the window. "I mean, I don't know. I just know that I've gotta jump this place."
"Why?" you demanded, but you kept your voice quiet. You looked behind you. Akane was furiously scribbling on a paper, with a doll clutched in her left hand. You turned back to Aoi.
"There's a mortgage on the place from my parents. I can't pay it, and there's no way in hell I'm going to let Akane go into the system." His eyes were fierce and looked like they were smouldering.
"But… where are you going to go?"
He shrugged and looked back outside. The light reflected off his eyes, illuminating them, making them fluorescent. "I dunno. I'll find something."
An immense wave of sadness came over you. Despite the fact that you only really learned about the boy for a week or so, you had grown attached to him — and the sister. You turned back behind you to glance at Akane. She was playing with her doll absentmindedly. A feeling of love swelled in your heart.
"Does she know?"
"Yeah."
His voice sounded strained. You swallowed past a growing lump in your throat. The sound of water draining was thunderous.
"When are you leaving?" you asked, trying to control your voice so that it wouldn't betray any of the immense grief coming over you.
"Um… I don't know. Soon."
His vague answers angered you, but you bit your tongue. If he had to leave, then he had to leave. You would just have to enjoy the time left.
"Where are you going to go to school? Where will Akane…?"
"There's probably an elementary school somewhere." He glanced away and sighed with a puff. "I'm just going to work."
"What? But… then you won't be able to get into college…"
He laughed and looked at you, his green eyes twinkling with amusement.
"Man, you really are hilarious." He shook his head. "College doesn't mean anything to me. I just need to get Akane there."
You stuttered, trying to find something to say. "But…"
"Hey, Aoi! The cake's done!"
The older brother turned away from you and saw Akane peering through the oven door. Her brown hair was tousled from her constant pulling at it. She looked up at you and Aoi with gleaming indigo eyes.
"Cake…?" you asked, your brow furrowing. You tried to shake away the oncoming tears by swiping at your eyes.
"Come on, Aoi, let's take it out!" she whined. He obliged, and brought the pan onto the stove carefully. You peered over his shoulder and looked at the… mess.
"Huh," he said, looking at it.
"Hm," Akane said.
"What… happened?" You took a fork and poked the crumbled pieces. It looked more like a collapsed building from Pompeii than a cake.
"Aoi, you forgot the baking powder!" Akane accused, pointing up at her older brother. He looked bewildered.
"That was important?!"
You couldn't help but laugh. Your dark mood washed away with the broken, flat, awful looking cake. You were still giggling when you took a chunk and tasted it. It was undeniably sweet, and actually quite good.
"Why did you guys make this?" you asked, going back for more. Akane beamed at you.
"It's your birthday tomorrow, duh."
You looked at her strangely. "How did you know?"
"Aoi told me. He had the idea — "
"Yeah, yeah, that's enough Akane," Aoi suddenly muttered, cutting off his sister. He pushed her back towards the living room. "Did you finish your homework yet?"
"No…"
"Okay, cool, do that first, okay?"
She pouted but obediently stomped back to the coffee table. You laughed gently, turning back to the ‘cake'.
"Well," he muttered once Akane had sat down again. "Happy birthday." He was so quiet that you nearly missed his words entirely.
"Thanks… but how did you know?" You tasted more of the rich, chocolatey crumbles.
"I'm not deaf. I listened to people talking to you in class. You said August 20th. Geez, what do you think I am, stupid…?" he trailed off, glaring intently at the cake. You worried that it would break further under those eyes.
"Well… thanks, Aoi." You smiled sadly. It was your last gift from the Kurashikis. Then you remembered something that you hadn't learnt from him. "When's your birthday?"
"Oh, it already passed."
You frowned. "Why didn't you ever tell me?"
"It wasn't important." He shrugged. "My birthday doesn't really matter."
"Of course it matters!" you said. You took a piece of the crumb and shoved it into his mouth when he was about to speak. He gagged and tried to swallow, staring at you with wide eyes. You laughed again, having to cover your mouth so you wouldn't spew chocolate all over the floor.
A feeling would suddenly overcome you. When you looked at him, muttering obscenities and brushing crumbs off his shirt, you wanted to kiss him. You wanted to so badly that it almost felt like somebody was pushing you, desperately urging you.
But, you batted down the feeling. It wasn't as if he returned the affection. You were, at most, a friend — and you didn't want to ruin that.
Instead, you smiled again, your heart hurting deeply. "Happy late birthday."
He looked up at you and shrugged nonchalantly, his ears turning red. "Happy early birthday."
Then, before you could react, he threw a lump of cake at you. You shrieked, brushing it out of your hair, before laughing, throwing another piece at him.
You had no idea that he would disappear the next day.
---
A rapping on your door woke you from your deep slumber. You felt as if you had just blinked, but the time read 3:09 AM, meaning you actually had fallen asleep somewhere in between. You stumbled out of bed. The incessant knocking wouldn't stop.
Your eyes were too heavy with grogginess to be able to make out a clear picture through the peephole, so you opened the door. The dorms' hallway lights blinded you.
"What do you want?" Your words slurred together into a single ‘what' with some garbled mumbling, making you sound like an idiot. The person standing in front of your door didn't resemble any of your friends, neighbours, or even fellow classmates. You rubbed your fists into your eyes. The figure was dressed weirdly, with crazy hair held down with a black band. His slim frame made him look like a punk… or a burglar. You wondered if you were going to get robbed. You were too tired to care. "Well, all right then. If you want my money, I've only got change, so like, don't kill me... I've got finals tomorrow — "
"Why do you always think I'm going to mug you? Fuck." The figure shifted in the light and you saw him scratching his head, rolling green-hued eyes. You looked closer and squinted through the bleariness.
"Do I... know you?"
He shrugged, suddenly smirking. "I dunno, do you?"
You scowled and leant against the door. "Who are you, man? I'm just trying to get some sleep."
"Yeah, well, can I come in for a minute?"
Your frown deepened. "Hell no. I don't know who you are. If you've got nothing to say, I'm going to go back to sleep."
"Hey, wait. It's Aoi."
Your arm froze, halfway to closing the door. You opened it to look at him, closely.
"If this is some sick fucking joke," you warned. He raised his hands in surrender, shrugging. A smug grin still sat upon his face.
"Nah. It's me."
"You… you disappeared!" A faint memory of arriving at an empty house on your birthday drifted to mind. You brushed it away. It was still painful. "You never even said goodbye."
"Yeah, sorry about that… something came up." His face visibly darkened, even in the dim hallway. Your mind was too busy trying to process everything.
"If it's really you… why are you here now?" You warily pushed your door open the entire way, too exhausted to doubt him any longer.
"It's August 20th, isn't it?" He didn't walk inside, instead, picking up a package from the floor. It was a brown bag. He waved it in your face.
"So?" you muttered, adding a bitter 'barely' under your breath. You crossed your arms.
"Don't tell me you forgot."
Annoyed by the way he was shaking it in your face, you snatched the bag from him. You checked inside.
"Is this fucking dirt?" you asked, slightly disgusted. However, a warm smell drifted up from the brown lumps. Was it chocolate?
"Yeah, well, I forgot the baking powder again. I didn't have anybody by my side to remind me." He cocked his head to the side and looked away from you, staring past you. You tasted a bit of it. It was incredibly sweet.
"It really is you…" you gasped, realization slamming into you like a bus. The bag dropped from your hands onto the floor. He watched it fall.
"Hey, I spent precious time making that," he joked dryly, but you launched yourself at him. He stiffened as you wrapped your arms around him, the tears and emotion you had held back for so many years finally exploding. You stuffed your face into the crook of his neck, shuddering, relief and anger and passion boiling your blood. Your fingers wormed their way into his coarse hair. He was alive. He was real. And he was here.
"You idiot," you hiccupped, pressing yourself to him as if he could disappear again at any moment. An awkward hand patted you on the back.
"… I'm really sorry."
You pulled yourself away from him, and the memory of wanting to kiss him bubbled up from where you had shoved it away. So, you did. There was no restraint — no hesitation any longer — you kissed him. It tasted even sweeter than the cake crumbs splayed across the floor.
When you broke away, you were still blubbering, and his ears were tinged with a bright red. You punched him in the chest weakly.
"Happy late birthday," you whispered shakily, your knuckles resting against him. A long needed smile graced your lips. His face was pink and warm, but he nodded quickly. Maybe he was smiling too.
"Happy birthday."