Work Text:
Sometimes, it is all consuming.
Your anger is a dying spark. Sputtering weakly, a candle in the windowsill. Reminders whispered along the wind to stay calm, don't let your emotions get the best of you, don't be like him. Your mother's voice, and her calloused hands soothing Touya as he burned, even as the heat threatened to singe her, burn her aching heart. Fuyumi's unhappy eyes grasping Natsuo's fists, prying the tension out of his hands and smoothing out the crescent shaped imprints in his palms from how hard his nails had dug in.
Your mother's eyes, wide and fearful as she saw him in you. Fuyumi's gasp as she hears the screaming, and your brother's shouting when mom leaves , anger misdirected at you.
Your own hatred, simmering within your chest before you even understand the meaning of the word.
Your anger is a the flame of the candle on a birthday cake you never got, always extinguished by someone else before it can become a hazard. Still risky, if someone gets too close. Still able to burn brighter, given fuel.
Your classmates lives are so much better than yours. And for that, you hate them, too. Faceless, nameless. All meaningless, only useful for what Endeavour wants him to do. UA was not a gift. It was a requirement. A reminder of the only reason he was born.
Your chest aches, and your breath comes in short, gasping breaths. Heat licks at your skin, you can feel it, and that makes your chest ache more, stinging , burning with the raw sort of anger you've seen only in your brother, only in the way his fist slammed against the door, in the way he was the only one brave enough to stand up to Endeavour.
For him, it comes naturally.
For you, it feels like choking on air. You aren't allowed to feel this way. You were never allowed to feel this way. It's sickening, absolutely sickening, and you see your father's eyes reflected in the mirror his frustration reflected in your gaze as your eyes widen in the way the flames rise higher in the curling of a fist as you raise your hand
The mirror shatters. Your breathing is ragged, uneven, but the anger still burns in your chest, blotting out the pain of your bleeding hand.
( Sometimes, it is all consuming. )