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Another memory, shooting through his head and stinging him until he's left numb.
That kid, and that house, large and expansive, and nobody else in it except for him and his thoughts. That kid, he'd been forgotten again.
Saki must've collapsed again, and sent back to the hospital. He understood, he really did, he needed to be patient and wait. Saki would come home. His family would come home, and they'd apologize for leaving him again. Then, he wouldn't be forgotten again.
At least, he assumed, because there was never a note left saying so.
…
Calling his mom's phone went straight to voice mail, and he didn't know the number to call his dad.
Hunger gnawed at his stomach, and more than anything he craved a family dinner all together. Yet, at this point, he could make his own food, so it would be fine. How old was he in this memory? Maybe ten, maybe a little less.
He paused to take a shaky breath. The memory wasn't pleasant, none of them ever were, but it would help him. He needed this, to become successful as an actor. This was for the greater good.
If he was a better actor, maybe he wouldn't be forgotten.
How did the memory make him feel? That's what he needed to recall most.
…
That kid, not yet ten, always made extra food to set at the dinner table, to pretend his family was there alongside him. Four plates sat at the table, and only one would ever be finished.
When his family came home, the food would be cold by then, so they'd throw it out, but thank him later. They'd thank him, wouldn't they? If they said they were grateful, then it was okay.
He couldn't remember them ever saying thank you, when they did come home.
They'd come home, wouldn't they?
…
…
The next day came, but his family didn't.
Saki must be really sick, huh? Well, he could continue to wait. He'd always be here, waiting, waiting for them to come back to him, and he'd always be ready to see them again.
The dinner plates from the night before were still out, waiting for someone to come home and eat them. They'd be cold by now. Nobody liked cold food, so maybe they wouldn't be eaten, after all. He'd made too much food again, and it'd gone to waste.
Was Saki thinking about him, in the hospital? She was probably waiting to get out, so she could see him again. His parents would be there, too, thinking of him, right? They wouldn't leave him forgotten, after all.
…
…
The next day, and the next.
It was his birthday, now, and he was ten.
…
He'd been forgotten, hadn't he?
He'd make dinner, again and again, and nobody would ever eat it, or say thank you, anyways.
He could make a cake for his birthday, but it's not like he could ever finish it by himself, and it's not like anyone would be there to watch him blow out candles.
He'd stopped believing in birthday wishes, anyways, because everytime he wished for his family to stay with him, they never did.
…
This was always how it went, but then they'd come home and thank him for waiting, because that was all he was able to do.
Waiting, waiting, to be appreciated, to see his family, to be remembered.
They'd tell him he was such a good son, for waiting, and that they knew it was hard, but they would swear they wouldn't leave him again, and then they'd leave him again, and again, and again, and again.
He clenched his teeth. If Saki wasn't in the hospital all the time, his parents would be home, celebrating his birthday. If Saki was around, his parents would be, too. What if Saki wasn't around? Would his parents still be around? They'd have nowhere else to go, right? Its Saki's fault, then, and he should have gotten rid of—
A choked sob, and a body curling in on itself, hugging its knees to its chest.
What was he thinking?
If they could choose, they'd choose to be home with him, to celebrate with him, right? They didn't want to be in the hospital with Saki, and it wasn't their fault they had to be. It wasn't Saki's fault, either.
If they could choose between being home with him, or in the hospital with Saki, they'd naturally choose to be home with him, right?
If they could choose between him or Saki…
…
…
He'd wanted to kill Saki, right then, more than ever.
That was a good thing, right? That was the exact feeling he needed to channel, and it was right there, before him. He could use that loneliness and hatred he felt, and use it to imagine taking her life.
Saki's life? It was supposed to be his parents' lives that he imagined taking, right?
He didn't want to kill Saki, so why did he feel that way? Why was this feeling gnawing at his chest and swallowing him whole?
In his mind, he saw visions, of a staircase, of blood everywhere, but mostly on his hands, and he saw Saki in front of him, facing him. She was disappointed in him. Why was she disappointed? This was so he wouldn't be forgotten, because if he was a better actor, then he wouldn't be forgotten. He just needed to get better at acting, so he imagined taking that step, closer, and—
…
He couldn't bring himself to push.
…
What was wrong with him?
His vision blurred and he wiped his eyes with his sleeve. His head, really, really hurt.
He couldn't become a better actor if he kept this up, and it would all be in vain, because nobody would ever remember him, anyways. If he disappeared altogether, Rui, Nene, Emu, they'd replace him, because at the end of the day, he was expendable anyways.
If he disappeared altogether, Saki wouldn't mind, right?
…
But, if he…
If he…
…took the easy way out, they'd remember him.
They were always remembered. If something tragic happens, you'll never be forgotten. That's the only way, anyways, because it's not like anyone would care about an actor in a few years time.
If he were to take that rope and tighten it, his parents would never forget him.
They'd have something worth coming home to, anyways.
…
…
…
"Onii-chan, I'm back!"
A door opened, and Saki's voice called throughout the quiet house. It was still, everything was untouched, as if nobody was home, or as if nobody lived here altogether.
"Are you hiding? Come on down, I got you some cake from that bakery I was talking about!"
Saki looked back on her memories, now.
She'd remember everytime she had to go to the hospital, Tsukasa would say home and wait.
She'd come home, and they'd play a game of hide and seek, because Tsukasa was always hiding by the time Saki would come home. It was a game, Saki would have to find Tsukasa, and then he'd jump up, laugh, and say 'you're home!'
It was like that, then, but Saki figured she might be too old to be playing hide and seek… Ah, whatever. Who says she can't have fun?
Her eyes glanced up to the loft, where Tsukasa's room was, where she assumed he'd be. She remembered being jealous of his lofted room when they'd first got this house, and she'd have sleepovers with him up there, every night, until their parents said Saki had to use her own bed.
There were no lights on in the loft. She sighed. Was this him practicing for something? A new role, maybe? What role could possibly require staying in the dark, though?
She just had to go get him, then. She set the cake on the counter top, where it would wait for Tsukasa to come eat it, and stay waiting until he was ready.
"Oniiii-chaaaan?" She called out once more, before padding up the stairs to the loft and turning on the light.
…
…
…
…
…
"We know how hard it is," An old family friend would say. "But we're here for you, whenever you need it."
…
…
Saki's head was numb. What was she going to do now?
If she'd never left home that day, Tsukasa would still be around, wouldn't he? He wouldn't have killed himself, if she was still there.
She hated this pity, and she hated everyone saying they knew how hard it was. No, they didn't. They'd never know how hard it was. Most of all, she hated herself, because she couldn't bring herself to hate Tsukasa for what he did.
After all, he was just like the rest of them, flawed, and imperfect, and their dinner table would never seat a full family again.