Chapter Text
Touya starts his second year of middle school friendless and in a perpetually terrible mood.
It’s never easy being the new kid, but starting a year later than everyone else at a new school is a special kind of hell. It paints a target on Touya’s back. He feels his classmates’ stares, hears the whispers. Then again, he is the kid who showed up with lopsided double piercings and a noticeable chip on his shoulder. He couldn’t blend in if he tried, and he doesn’t.
Given the house he grew up in, he expects punishment at just about every turn. Especially when he’s done nothing wrong, though that’s rarely the case. He fights back. Bitterly. Touya gains a reputation for it quickly. Delinquent. Problem child. A bad kid. His teachers lose interest in straightening him out. They just send him to be reprimanded in the principal’s office.
Principal Aizawa quickly grows tired of Touya’s antics as well, though the dark circles under the man’s eyes tell Touya Aizawa is always tired and for reasons beyond Touya. When Touya sits in his office, Aizawa sometimes sighs and tells him there’s no use in being so angry. That holding onto grudges will only weigh him down. Touya thinks the principal should shut up and mind his own damn business.
Touya’s got every right to be angry. It’s not his fault his mother chose now to grow a backbone and leave his shitty old man. Touya has spent countless sleepless nights staring at the ceiling of their living area while Natsuo snores and drools on the futon next to him, wondering why his mother held out for so long. Why didn’t she leave the first time her husband backhanded Touya, or when he began neglecting Natsuo and Fuyumi? Even when Enji smacked her so hard her head hit the wall with a sickening crack that resulted in a bruise and a concussion, Touya’s mother held out. Touya remembers Shoto’s screams. He was only a baby. They were all only babies. Except for Touya. He can handle himself. He’s always been able to put himself back together again.
Touya’s mother’s breaking point came by complete coincidence. It was because of the case, the investigation into Todoroki Enji’s corruption and dirty business dealings through Endeavor Investments, one of the hottest up-and-coming firms in Japan — or, at least, it was. For some reason, the lead detective approached Touya’s mother and offered her a deal: feed them information in exchange for a fresh start for her and her children. How the detective knew they needed a fresh start is beyond Touya; he often wonders if the investigator even cared about going after Enji for abuse. While he was known for his ruthlessness in business, Enji’s public reputation was, otherwise, sterling. He handled money for dozens of high-profile clients including celebrities and politicians. If he fell, no small amount of chaos would ensue. That’s why the investigation’s findings needed to be airtight and unquestionable.
When it was done, Endeavor Investments stood in ruins, a derelict palace with only its rocky foundation remaining after a match was put to it.
Of course, it was only the start of more trouble for the remaining Todorokis. The police’s help only went so far as to put Enji in prison (not bad) and then freeze all the Todoroki bank accounts (bad) and seize all their assets including the house (really bad). Everything was tainted by dirty money. In the end, Enji’s wife and four children were left at the mercy of whatever table scraps the law deemed them worthy of subsisting on.
They were relocated to a shitty one-bedroom apartment on the other side of Tokyo. While their new home was barely livable, at least Touya and his family could have something close to a fresh start. As fresh as a third-degree burn that melts away skin. The move meant starting a new school, which was probably for the best anyway. Everyone would have heard about Enji’s arrest. Maybe some of his classmates’ parents, the wealthier ones, had lost out on supposedly hard-earned money because of Touya’s father’s greed, too. Not that Touya cared. If they were stupid enough to invest with Endeavor, then they deserved what they got.
Touya’s new middle school looks exactly like his old one, except that there’s two cherry blossom trees in the courtyard instead of one. They’re in full bloom when school starts, the pink petals looking like clouds of cotton candy. While most students spend their breaks eager for a chance to get outside to enjoy the warming weather, Touya’s not to be found among them.
The start of the third week of school finds him behind the dumpsters lighting up a cigarette, a habit he picked up during the time when he was pulled out of school so his family could move. He takes a drag, feeling the smoke burn his throat pleasingly.
“Smoking’s bad for your health,” says a lazy voice says as it rounds the corner. Another student appears in front of Touya. He’s maybe a head shorter than Touya, with sharp eyes that watch him carefully despite the air of nonchalance he’s clearly putting on.
Touya snorts. Some of the cigarette smoke flies up into his nostrils and makes him cough. The boy’s eyes narrow and the corner of his lips twitch in the ghost of a smile as Touya proves his point.
“What are you, my mother?” Touya drawls, knowing full well his mother would be beside herself if she knew he was smoking. “Get lost, shorty. What are you — ten?”
“Thirteen actually.” The kid only continues to smile in a way that makes Touya’s stomach flop over uncomfortably. Why won’t he scram already?
“Whatever,” says Touya right as the bell rings. He makes no attempt to push himself up off the ground.
“You’re not going to class?”
“Why the hell should I?” Touya says around the cigarette he’s popped back in his mouth. He already managed to piss off his homeroom teacher by being and for breaking dress code with his messy, untucked shirt and earrings. Again.
Mercifully, the kid doesn’t rattle off some goody-goody spiel about doing his best and getting stellar grades to put him on the successful path in life. If he did, Touya might vomit up rainbows.
“Guess that’s your choice,” the kid says instead with an easy shrug. He shoves his hands in his pockets and begins walking back in the direction he came. “Later.”
Touya stares after him and wonders when he agreed to ‘later.’
‘Later,’ as it turns out, is the next afternoon. The kid finds him again, this time a little earlier. He seems harmless enough, so Touya bites his tongue and doesn’t snap at him to fuck off. Maybe Aizawa would be proud of Touya fighting his baser instincts, but there’s also the fact that Touya’s smoking again and — oh yeah — he most assuredly doesn’t give a shit.
They sit in silence for the most part. Every now and then, Touya’s eyes drift over to find the kid staring up at the sky with a curious expression. Like he’s trying to count all the clouds.
Fucking weirdo , Touya thinks.
When the bell rings, the boy once again says, “later.” To Touya, it’s starting to sound less like a bland farewell and more like a promise. He’s not sure how he feels about that.
The next time they see each other is a Thursday. This time, they exchange names. The kid’s name is Keigo.
“Got a last name?” Touya asks.
“Does it matter?”
Touya shrugs. “Mine’s Himura.” They’re all going by their mom’s maiden name now, even if the divorce hasn’t gone through yet. Since it’s not on his official record yet, the teachers sometimes call Touya by his dad’s surname, which is the quickest way to set him off. That’s how he last got sent to see Aizawa, for telling a teacher that his name is “fucking Himura.”
(Only Aizawa calls him Himura without fail. He says it carefully, with intention, even as he’s disciplining Touya with more detention and calls to his mother. It makes Touya’s stomach sour because when Aizawa says it, it sounds like pity. Touya can’t stand being pitied.)
He’s not even sure why he tells Keigo his name — or anything at all. This becomes a pattern. Keigo arches a brow or twists his lips into a coy smile, and suddenly Touya, who has to be pestered within an inch of his life to give even a single-word answer to his family about how his day at school was, is singing like a canary. Words just tumble out of his mouth like water over a cliff’s edge. It’s like a fucking compulsion. Keigo would make a terrifying interrogator, and he’s only thirteen.
Keigo doesn’t ask Touya for anything — not even for a cigarette — but he does ask questions. So many questions. What’s Touya’s favorite kind of music? (‘80s metal.) When did he get his ears pierced? (He did them himself three months back, that’s why they’re fucked up.) Which of his siblings is his favorite? (Natsuo.) If he could get away with robbing any store, which would it be? (The liquor store.) Keigo pushes boundaries like he’s born to stick his nose where it doesn’t belong. He needles and pries but always in that deceptively sweet way of his.
Touya reads him immediately. Keigo — Takami Keigo, Touya picks up around school — is not sweet. He’s seen him in the hallways and chatting up his classmates, looking like the picture of innocent camaraderie. The girls love him because he’s handsome and funny, and he remembers all their names. The boys like him because they don’t consider him a threat since he doesn’t do sports. The teachers comment on how Takami-kun is such a helpful boy; always the first to lend a hand to carry something or open a door, like he’s some kind of golden-haired white knight.
It’s mostly an act. The pranks perpetrated by an unknown delinquent (that most people think is Touya)? All Keigo. He’s quick and efficient, and clearly smart, but not sneaky enough for Touya not to notice the evidence.
(Some of the pranks are funny. Most are just stupid. Keigo never says anything about them to Touya.)
They become friends anyway. Or something like it. Afternoons at school extend to afternoons after school. They walk to the playground that’s usually abandoned and fuck around on the swings or monkey bars.
Touya’s never really had friends, so it’s a new experience. If friends are the people you hang around because you don’t have anything else better to do, then Touya guesses Keigo fits the bill better than anyone. After all, he keeps showing up, despite all the grouchy looks Touya shoots his way. He’s got to hand it to the kid; he’s a persistent one.
Himura Touya doesn’t know the first thing about having or being a friend to anyone, but as the weeks go by and they finally exchange phone numbers (“You asking me out?” “Shut the fuck up and put it in, bird brain.” “God, your screen’s a mess.” “Natsuo dropped it, the dumbass.”), Touya finds he may just be willing to learn.
If only so he’s not so desolately lonely.
*****
Touya’s siblings are enchanted with Keigo. Natsuo and Shoto especially. They clamber all over him and demand to know why his hair’s yellow as straw. (“Because I dye it, silly!”)
Fuyumi is a bit more standoffish at first. In the two months since Touya started school and met Keigo, his sister has grown less trusting. She was always so open, he remembers. Back when they lived under their dad’s roof, Fuyumi tried everything she possibly could to get Enji to notice her. It tears a little at Touya’s heart because he knows Fuyumi is old enough to remember that their father did care for a little while, back when Fuyumi and Touya were very little. The well of Enji’s affections dried up as business took off and his need to surpass his old employer became the burning, white-hot rage that fueled him.
Keigo had almost fallen off the monkey bars when Touya told him he was welcome for dinner at the Himura household. Touya nearly busted his gut laughing as Keigo righted himself and stared like Touya had told him he had superpowers. “Really?”
“My mom wants to meet you,” Touya had said, turning his head to hide the flush he feels creeping into his cheeks. While it wasn’t untrue, it also wasn’t the whole truth. Touya’s mother was interested in meeting the friend her son talked about more than he talked about himself. “It’ll have to be Tuesday or Thursday. She works night shifts Monday, Wednesday, and Friday. Most weekends too.”
“Well,” Touya added in the long silence that followed. “You wanna or not?”
Keigo accepted eagerly, which is how he ends up becoming a fixture for Tuesday and Thursday dinners with the Himuras.
Keigo doesn’t talk about his home life. Touya gets the feeling it’s not especially great, despite how good Keigo is at hiding how little sleep he’s gotten or how he hasn’t eaten since lunch at school the previous day. Things Keigo thinks no one else can see. Touya can, but that’s because he’s used to reading between the lines. For people, at least. People who aren’t his father, because Touya’s renegade mouth made sure he never missed an opportunity for Enji to knock some respect into him.
Whatever is happening at home hasn’t put Keigo off the notion of a family at all, though. He’s eager enough to become part of Touya’s. It gets to the point where there’s no pretense anymore. They walk home together after school throughout the week.
Rei grows fond of Keigo, too. Money’s tight with five mouths to feed, but she never complains that there’s one more sitting at their table. Touya can tell she senses something’s off with Keigo as well, but she talks around it, like she usually does.
“I’m so glad you’ve made a friend, Touya,” his mother says over sudsy dishes in the sink while Touya dries them with a towel and puts them away. For some reason, he makes more of an effort when Keigo’s around. Plus, Touya’s now taller than his mother, which means he can reach the cabinets over the sink no problem. (It’s not so great considering how he grows out of pants like fucking crazy.)
Touya hears the blare of the television in the living area where Keigo’s snuggled under the kotatsu with Touya’s siblings. It’s getting warmer, but the nights are still cool. They keep the two terrible, squeaky windows that face the street open when they’re home because ventilation sucks in this moldy place.
“Keigo-kun is such a good boy.”
Touya snorts. “He’s a bootlicker,” he shoots back. There’s only a little bit of envy at Keigo’s easy-going charm. Since hooking up with Keigo, Touya gets called out a little less by the teachers. It’s hilarious because Keigo is just as much of a delinquent as Touya, but he’s careful about not getting caught. If he toes the line, he does it with a sweet smile that melts just about every heart. No one punishes him because no one catches him; he’s too smooth, too quick, for that. Even if they get close, he can talk his way out of just about any situation. Keigo has more charm in his thirteen-year-old body than most grown actors.
“How the hell do you do that?” Touya wonders aloud one evening as they sit on the swings of a playground on the walk home from school. The tips of his toes dance along the deep dip in the mulch beneath his swing when he’s at a stand-still. Touya rotates so the twin chains in his hands twist together like metal snakes. When the twist reaches the top of his head, he lifts his feet and spins so fast that everything’s a blur and his stomach feels unsettled. He likes that weird feeling it leaves him with for a few seconds, like the world’s crashing out of orbit around the sun.
“Do what?” Keigo asks when Touya comes to a swaying stop.
“Get away with all the shit you pull. I never do.”
Keigo gives Touya one of those million-dollar grins that drips with cheese. The kid knows how to play into the angelic youth trope. He still thinks it works on Touya when it never did. One day he’ll push his luck too far. “Because I’m more likable than you.”
Touya barks out a laugh at the understatement of the century. “And they think I’m the bad influence. Aizawa doesn’t even know it was you who filled all the hand sanitizer dispensers in the hallways with dish soap.”
“Nope, and he’s not gonna,” Keigo responds cheekily. He rattles the chains of his own swing. “Now come on and push me.”
“Why the hell should I?”
“‘Cause your arms are longer and I wanna fly.” He looks up longingly at the sky as he said it, like he really does hope Touya can help launch him into the atmosphere and that maybe, just maybe, Keigo will stay up there. Free as a bird.
Touya can’t say no. He never can. In fact, it just gets more and more impossible as time goes by.
*****
Touya’s not sure who reports him for smoking by the dumpsters, but they do. When combined with his slipping grades and needing to be held back from trying to give another black eye to a smarmy kid who puts the pieces together and mouths off about Touya being Todoroki Enji’s kid, it’s enough to get Touya very nearly suspended.
It also gets his mother called. Again. This time, she has to come in to take Touya out of school early. It means missing out on a shift and probably begging a coworker to cover for her. That means less money and a potentially furious boss.
What a shit show.
Seated outside, Touya hears them talking in Aizawa’s office after Aizawa has torn into Touya.
“Himura-san, I want to impress upon you the seriousness of this. Touya is a smart kid. I’ve seen what work he bothers to turn in. If he wanted to, he could probably get into any college he set his sights on, but that means applying himself and actually getting to high school. At this point, Touya will be lucky not to have to repeat the year. He is genuinely fortunate not to be suspended or worse.”
“I know. I know. Thank you… I’m… I’m so sorry.” His mother’s voice is shot through with anxiety and mortification. She’s on the brink of tears, Touya can tell.
“I understand that things have been difficult.” The pause before that final word is so notable that it could make a newspaper headline. “We have resources available. A counselor, for one.”
“He… I thought that when we moved things would be better, now that my husb- Now that it’s safer at home. But Touya… you’re right, Aizawa-sensei. He’s so smart. I just… Do you really think he needs to see the counselor?”
“I highly recommend it. I understand there is still stigma around these things, but he’s young enough that something like this has undoubtedly made a mark on his life. When a smart child stops caring, that’s a sign to take note of, Himura-san.”
“I-I… oh God.” Her voice cracks like a bowl dropped on tile, the sound sharp and horrible. “I’m sorry. I’ll… I’ll talk to him.”
“Please do, and remember that you aren’t alone in this. We have resources here at the school to help Touya. He just needs to want it.”
His mother leads him out of the school like she’s on a mission. Her eyes are red and puffy, and her lips are drawn into a tight line. White-hot shame stabs at Touya when he realizes why his mother’s expression looks so familiar. He’s seen it many times. At least she’s not crying right now. Touya could never stand hearing his mother’s shuddering sobs.
Keigo doesn’t walk home with them. He’s got a sixth sense when it comes to conflict, and while he’s nosey as hell, he knows when things are serious enough to butt out.
They still have to pick up Touya’s siblings on the way home. The kids are so excited that big brother Touya’s there with mom so they can all go home as a family. That twists the knife because they don’t know Touya’s only here, out early from school, because he fucked up and made mom cry.
His mother is quiet through the rest of the afternoon and dinner. Touya helps her get his siblings ready for bed and braces himself for what comes after he turns off the lights in their rooms.
His mother is finishing the dishes as Touya rejoins her in the living area. He guiltily clings to the walls as he crawls closer to the kitchen and creeps up to help dry the dishes.
“Don’t.”
His mother’s voice is sharp. Touya winces like she’s slapped him. He wishes she would, since he deserves it and at least then she may actually look at him.
After a moment, she turns off the faucet and exhales heavily. In just her profile, Touya can see the lines on her face that have become more deeply etched over the last months. He wonders which ones he put there — and which were from his father.
“Touya. This has gone too far. At first it was just calls about homework. Sometimes the occasional outburst. I thought… I thought that things would resolve themselves with time, but I can see that I was wrong.”
Touya just stands there like his bare feet have grown roots. Even if he wanted to say something, he finds he’s unable. That yawning, growing emptiness inside of him stretches like the mouth of a cavern, beckoning him inside. At least in there, it’s quiet. It’s where Touya doesn’t have to think about all the horrible things he actually feels. The things that scare even him.
“Do you have anything to say for yourself?”
He remains silent even as something within his chest threatens to burst open like a cracked dam that can’t support the overwhelming weight of what it’s supposed to keep back anymore.
His mother shakes her head with disappointment. “You’re the oldest. Your siblings look up to you. I need your help. I need you to–”
Something snaps. An old, frayed rope that’s long past its usefulness. The last shred of whatever kept those horrible feelings at bay, even as they festered within him. All the anger, all the resentment and fury that’s been welling up inside of Touya for years suddenly can no longer be contained. He erupts, and he explodes out of his seat as he screams, “You need me? I needed you!!”
His mother is clearly so shocked that she jumps back. A flash of terror crosses her face, but Touya doesn’t stop. “Back when dad would teach me a lesson for talking out of turn? Or when I just so happened to be in range when he was having a bad day at work? Where were you?”
She opens her mouth to reply but no sound comes out. A wave of disgust rolls through Touya. He’s just so… angry… not just at his father. At the woman standing before him. The woman who carried him and brought him into this world, and then who stood aside as her husband turned on him, unleashing first emotional torment and then resorting to physical violence.
Yes, his father hurt Touya’s mother. He hurt her like he hurt Touya… but she hurt Touya, too.
“‘Your father doesn’t mean to,’” Touya says, recalling something that has sat deep within him just below where his hatred of his father burns brightest and hottest. “‘He just loses his temper sometimes.’ Do you remember saying that?”
His mother’s hand flies up to cover her mouth. She chokes on a sob. Her eyes are wide and brimming with tears. She’s horrified. Of course she remembers.
“I was ten,” continues Touya, his anger a ball of fire thundering down a hill and driving him forward. He’s not calculating which words will hurt his mother the most, but he knows their impact will be devastating. A sick and twisted part of him, the part that is vile and spews poison to watch how it eats away flesh and muscle and bone, likes that. “And then it just kept happening and he… Why? Why didn’t you do something sooner? Why did it take you so long?”
“I-I’m… Touya… baby, I’m s-sorry…” Rei is mostly hysterical at this point, her breath coming in hiccups as she stutters, any previous conversation about Touya’s misdeeds forgotten. “It wasn’t… he didn’t always-“
Touya slams his clenched fist against the wall with such force that he feels the drywall cave a bit. Guess they’re not getting their security deposit back. He isn’t sure he can stand here and listen to his mother defend his father by suggesting that he wasn’t always like that. “Bullshit! He was! He hit you, mom, and he was going to hurt Shoto. That’s the real reason, huh? Why you finally said enough was enough and decided to stop being useless? Because of Shoto. The case… that was just a coincidence.” Touya feels half hysterical himself; he’s definitely unhinged. He scrubs his face with his hands wildly. “But what about me? What about what I needed? I-“
He doesn’t get to finish that thought. A high-pitched scream interrupts Touya.
“LEAVE HER ALONE!!”
Shoto tears into the kitchen like a wild animal, with his battle cry on his lips. He barrels into Touya, hardly moving his brother at all, and starts wailing on him with his little fists as he sobs and cries out. “Stop it! Get away from her!”
He looks like he’s ready to fight Touya to the death, and he stands between Touya and their mother like he is ready to die for her.
“Shoto, sweetie, it’s ok.” Rei is trying to peel him off of Touya, who stares dumbly down at his youngest brother. “It’s ok, I promise. We’re just… we’re only having a little argument–”
“I won’t let you bully her!!”
When Shoto raises his teary, mismatched eyes to meet Touya’s, Touya sees a spark of hatred burning in them. On one side, it’s Touya’s mother looking at him. On the other, his father. That side is Touya, too, just a little younger and seething at Enji, but too afraid and tired and bruised to fight anymore so he may as well go find Natsuo and bawl until there are no tears left in his small body. It’s unbearable. An abyss grows in Touya, and before he even knows what he’s doing, he pushes past his brother and mother.
He runs.
Touya runs so fast that he leaves the door wide open and doesn’t hear his mother screaming out his name as he goes. So fast that it’s not until he’s at the playground that he and Keigo go to that Touya realizes he doesn’t even have shoes on. His feet burn from striking the pavement, but he can’t feel them, even when shards of mulch poke at his raw soles like little knives as Touya staggers over to the swings —
— where Keigo’s waiting.
Touya doesn’t know if Keigo’s waiting for him or not. Probably not, since when he looks up, his eyes widen at the sight of Touya, slumped over and panting. Touya can’t even imagine what he looks like. He can’t think at all. It’s like someone lit a forest fire in his brain.
He stumbles over to the other swing and clutches at the chains with both hands. For some reason the swing won’t hold still. It just keeps shaking, like an autumn leaf about to blow away.
No. The swing’s not shaking. Touya is.
While he stands there, Touya becomes more aware of Keigo’s eyes boring into him. He’s blessedly silent. Watching. Waiting.
Touya’s throat is dry and hot. It makes his voice raspy. He wants a cigarette so badly, but they’re back at home in his backpack. His lighter’s in his pants pocket. It’s a small, inexpensive plastic thing that he shoplifted. The miniscule weight is a comfort against his thigh. It’s weirdly grounding.
“He’s in prison.” The words come out of Touya like they’re pulled from him by an invisible hand. A confession.
Keigo’s still quiet.
“He’s finally out of our lives… but he’s still here .”
Touya’s hands slip a little lower on the chains. “Why,” he growls, “can’t I get rid of him.”
“Maybe because you don’t want to.”
Touya hears Keigo, but he doesn’t look at him. For a moment, a horrible moment, Touya considers connecting his fist with Keigo’s face. Wipe away his smugness. Dash everything they’ve built into the playground mulch because what the fuck does he know? What right does he have to say something like that to Touya?
“You think I want this?” His voice is as dangerous as an open flame put to dry kindling in a forest.
“I think you don’t know anything else,” Keigo says simply. There’s no smugness in it. No put-on airs. No deception. Touya hears it for what it is: raw and honest, sad and with not a single ounce of pity. Touya’s glad; he wouldn’t be able to accept any pity. There’s no telling what he would do if someone tried.
Keigo knows that, which is why he doesn’t. He knows so much about Touya, even without knowing the facts. It’s terrifying being so vulnerable to someone, living life under their microscope of understanding. Touya should hate it more. It’s why he avoids it with just about everyone else in his life.
Everyone except this stupid, golden-haired kid who’s too stupid to learn to sew buttons so he can fix his uniform jacket.
This kid that Touya learned to sew buttons for with a sewing kit he nicked from a convenience store a few months back.
The kid whose airy smile made the initial stab wounds in Touya’s fingers goddamn worth it.
Keigo doesn’t talk about his home life, but Touya knows now and for certain that it’s shit. Maybe as shitty as Touya’s had it. The difference is that Keigo’s still in it; Touya is free.
He’s also still a prisoner.
Touya sinks to the ground. The swing jolts from the sudden motion and creaks as it settles. “Why do I do this?” he asks the empty night hair, thick with humidity and rattling with the scream of crickets. “My baby brother is braver than I am. I never stood up for her. I just… I let him…”
Revulsion overwhelms Touya. The sourness in his stomach shoots up his throat. He barely has time to turn as he vomits. It’s thin and acidic and disgusting. A sensory nightmare. The act causes Touya to retch over and over until his body’s through with making him literally spill his guts and what little dinner he forced himself to eat. “Fuck,” he gasps, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand, and then his hand on his pants.
While Touya wasn’t paying attention, Keigo makes his way over. He stands over Touya and, once Touya’s done emptying his stomach, gives it a second before kicking mulch over the mess. Then: “get up.”
Touya tilts his head back to see Keigo’s face partially covered in shadow. He stares at him, blinking like an animal caught in the headlights, and then does as he’s told. He stands. Even stooped, he’s a full head taller than Keigo.
“You’re a mess, Touya.”
Touya looks away, but Keigo chastises him. “Hey. I’m not done with you.”
It’s a challenge to fight against the shame that threatens to overtake him, but Touya’s able to move his eyes back to at least stare at the button of Keigo’s jacket collar — the one Touya sewed back on last week.
“Stop feeling sorry for yourself. You’ve got a home with a family that loves you. It’s got problems, but who doesn’t. You want to stop? Then stop. It’s that simple.”
“It’s n-not that simple–” Touya begins, but Keigo cuts him off.
“It is. Make the choice to move forward. Never stop moving forward, and don’t pity yourself. The world won’t show you any. Plus, the Himura Touya I know would kick your teeth in if he saw you like this.”
When Touya finally meets Keigo’s gaze, he finds no malice there. It’s as steady and even as his tone, as his breathing. Otherwise it betrays nothing. His voice, though… There’s something there that Touya recognizes but can’t name. Something devastatingly sad. Something resigned.
Backlit by the hazy streetlights, Keigo has a golden sort of glow around him. If Touya didn’t see him so clearly, he might think Keigo’s an angel. If Keigo’s an angel, though, he’s the fallen kind. The kind with clipped wings and a spine made of steel.
“You know,” Touya says with a withering glare, “you really suck at pep talks.”
Keigo smirks, his levity returning as quickly as it disappeared. “Can’t say I’ve ever given one before.”
“Here’s some advice: don’t do it again.” Touya breathes out a long sigh and throws his head back far enough that he can make out the faintest hint of stars under the smoggy night sky.
“Go home, Touya,” Keigo says seriously.
“Wanna come with me?” He only half means it, but if Keigo says yes, Touya won’t stop him.
Keigo’s smile remains, but unless Touya’s eyes are playing tricks on him, there’s a new tightness in the creases around his lips. “Another night.”
*****
Touya’s forced to knock on his own door, having forgotten his key. His mother throws it open almost immediately. Her eyes are wild and frightened, unfocused for just a second. Touya wonders for a second if she thinks he might be the police. Holy shit, did she call the police? Then she sees it’s her son and releases a desperate, relieved cry that probably wakes some of the neighbors since it’s late.
Rei tugs Touya into the apartment and clings to him like he’s the only thing keeping her tethered to this world. She sobs into his chest and only holds him tighter when he tries to get the words “I’m sorry” out without slurring as his own eyes fill with tears.
Touya is truly sorry. He never wanted to be the one to make his mother cry.
Rei has Touya sit and prop his feet up so she can clean and bandage where he’s injured. Touya can’t remember the last time he let anyone care for him when he was hurt. Even when Natsuo would try, Touya would scramble away like a feral cat. Now he leans into her gentle touch.
When she’s done, his mother hangs her head. Her hand rests on Touya’s thigh. She must be afraid to let go of him in case he runs out again, this time for good.
“I’m so ashamed,” she says, her voice unbearably small and fragile.
“Mom–”
“No,” she says with the force of an icy gust of wind. Despite her failings, Touya’s mother always did have a quiet strength to her. She inhales once and then releases the breath slowly. “Let me say this. I am your mother. You deserved better. You needed me and… and I just… I wasn’t there. I think I figured that because you’re the oldest, you would be ok. I was so… so wrong. I’m sorry. My darling boy, I’m so sorry. Please forgive me… even if I don’t deserve it.”
Touya can’t even look at his mother. His anger’s diminished, at least for now, but he doesn’t know what he’s supposed to do. In the world Touya comes from, adults don’t apologize because they don’t make mistakes. Now his mother is begging him to forgive her. Touya should feel vindicated, but he doesn’t. He only feels the sadness within him expanding as his heart breaks into fragments that sink into his fibers to torture him.
He loves his mother. He loves his family. Natsuo, Fuyumi… even little Shoto. Touya knows his mother did the best she could, even if her best wasn’t enough. He also knows that his mother needs her son to forgive her. Maybe then she stands a fighting chance in this cruel world they’ve found themselves thrust into — because her children are all she has in it.
Touya doesn’t know if he’s ready to let go. There’s still too much within him, in his head and his heart, that’s pulling him back and fanning his flames. But for right now, he thinks that he may be able to show his mother a little grace.
When Touya lifts his eyes to look at her, she’s crying again. “Hey,” he says gently. He places a hand over hers where it sits on his thigh. “It’s ok. It’s gonna be ok.”
It feels so good to watch one of many burdens fall from her shoulders.
Then they talk about everything else. His mother is still mad. Of course she is. She makes it very clear to Touya that he needs to do better. He knows that. He can’t promise he’ll be the son she needs, but he can promise to try.
“Maybe,” she says timidly, “we can try together.”
Touya’s lips twitch in a tired smile. “Yeah. I think that would work.”
The next morning, Shoto, who was so exhausted after his tirade against Touya that he fell asleep weeping in his mother’s arms after Touya ran out, tearfully wraps his arms around Touya’s neck. Shoto won’t let go even when it’s time for them to leave for school. Their mother has a shift, so she needs to leave, but she agrees to write Touya a note so he can walk his siblings to school before getting on to school himself.
Keigo finds him behind the school during break. He doesn’t say anything about what happened last night, and Touya’s more grateful than he could ever say for it.
“Not smoking?” Keigo asks smugly, leaning against a dumpster.
“Naw,” says Touya. Despite how badly he wants one now, he chucked his cigarettes in the trash once he was on his way after dropping off Fuyumi and Natsuo at their school. “Don’t you know? It’s bad for your health.”