for day one of @protobnhaweek. my favourite boy? gotta be mikumo.
it is his tenth birthday & it has been three months since he lost them & it is the first time he has left the house & he is still grieving. the locket comes with a promise that he’ll always have his best friend & the memories they’d create.he hopes those don’t get cut short, too.
( mikumo remembers too much & loves more than he wants to. )
& IN THOSE EYES, there is a sadness: the type expected of someone that had lost so much & never learned what it meant to live without those memories weighing them down. Fragile minds filled with melancholy were for the weak, to him, but it had never stopped him from becoming one of those: dragged down by days that had passed long ago & that could not be forgotten through wilful ignorance no matter how he would plead at night to stop losing his mind to a past he could never return to.
The flowers in his hair are a reminder of that & the flowers in her grave will never let him forget it.
( these will keep that fringe of yours back murmurs his father, gentle fingers pushing it behind his hair & hair clips in the style of kanzashi flowers, elegant accessories often kept for brides or geisha or the collections of those who find nothing but beauty in them: these are the gifts of hard work being bestowed upon an unworthy soul by a guiding figure & he knows that, in the back of his mind, that perhaps that was the first inkling something terrible was going to happen. )
Sometimes, he thinks back to days where those were not mere memories & the love in his household was tangible. Sometimes, he aches as he recalls what he has lost: a father & a sister gone from the world, never to hear an i love you again but never to know his pain, a small mercy albeit it is not one he deserves. Sometimes, he hates the fact he has to remember he lost his mother too — yes, he recalls, that at the age of nine he was gifted with flowers & at the age of nine his loved ones died & at the age of nine his mother could not bear to look upon his face any longer.
Sometimes, he wishes she had died too. Maybe then, losing her wouldn’t have been quite so painful.
( & at the age of nine, he sits in the living room as his mother speaks to strange men at the door in a hushed voice & her hands shaking against the door handle as it rattles in her grip. when he asks what they were speaking about, she does not look at him & dares not to meet his eyes. they’re gone. she murmurs, hollow voice echoing in his ears as he hears the words that will forever change him. i’m sorry. ichika… your father. they’re dead.
& the last words he ever said to them are i love you & he promises himself that he will never say it, never let those words leave his mouth, for surely they are to blame for the tragic fate of his family. i’ll be a hero he vows, later. i’ll be a hero & then no one else will have to die. )
❝Mikumo,❞ the voice of his friend comes gently & interrupts his reminiscing, his eyes flickering over to stare at the other with a measured gaze. ❝What are you thinking about? You look sad.❞ & what a silly word that was to him: sad? He didn’t deserve to feel that way when it had been his own fault that any sadness had ever entered his life. A weak soul in a body made for strength & a heart too sensitive for who he was meant to become: sadness was not made for him & yet it had grown to consume his very being.
❝It’s nothing important.❞ He lies, not bothering to fake a smile as he turns to look at his food, a forkful of katsudon awaiting him as he lifts it to his mouth, although he does not eat it just yet. ❝Just the next test. Do you think we should study with Yuu-chan?❞ & if it is a distraction from his memories, he will say nothing of it.
( & there is a butterfly locket hanging around his neck with a picture of them together in it. the blond who holds a smile & himself, a frown on his face & dead eyes: as if he has lost everything that made him whole. so that we’re always together, mi-kun! the other had said as he curled his fingers around his hands, gently pressing the locket into them & attempting to keep him grounded for a moment.
it is his tenth birthday & it has been three months since he lost them & it is the first time he has left the house & he is still grieving, still learning to live without the support of a father & the love of a mother & the sister he had been so close to. the locket comes with a promise that he’ll always have his best friend & the memories they’d create.
he hopes those don’t get cut short, too. )
❝She’d be happy to spend time with us.❞ He adds shortly after, shaking himself out of his daze & ignoring the way concern flares up in Katsuki’s eyes.
He doesn’t deserve that, anyway.
❝You’ve never been the type to study as a group, Mi-kun.❞ Katsuki speaks, his voice kind & soft & the type Mikumo wishes he had. The words are not spoken maliciously. They hold curiosity, as if he has changed his mind on some sort of major decision & his expression twists from peaceful to a scowl as he gazes upon his friend. ❝If you don’t want to that’s-❞ He is interrupted with a no & an i’d love to.
Sometimes, he hates the way Katsuki talks to him as if a moment of time spent together is a blessing & as if Mikumo isn’t an awful person. He wonders, in the end, if Katsuki has ever known him.
He doesn’t think he ever did.
( & katsuki is eleven when mikumo gifts him a more colourful locket with a different picture inside, grumbling out the excuse it’s to match as if there is nothing sentimental behind it & it is only a return for a gift he was given long ago. he won’t ever tell the truth, not willing to seem like a sentimental fool.
as long as we have these, we’re connected. he wishes he had the courage to voice that to katsuki, but he doesn’t & he doubts he ever will. as long as we have these, i won’t lose you. )
& when the bell rings for class, he rises, careful to scrape his half-eaten dinner into the bin before placing the tray on one of the racks designed to hold them. He ignores the quiet feel better, Mi-kun that leaves Katsuki’s mouth & the comforting squeeze of his shoulder offered. He didn’t want comfort, didn’t need it, & yet his heart’s betrayal was obvious in the way he was left feeling warm, the touch lingering.
He doesn’t deserve comfort, but sometimes, he yearns for it.
When they arrive at class, he sits down & takes out his notebook & a pen, staring at the board as he awaits their teacher. He is ready to learn & the sorrowful atmosphere that had surrounded him during lunchtime dissipates as he schools his expression, emptiness filling him like a water balloon as he shoves down the feelings he didn’t wish to have.
Their sensei starts to teach & Mikumo lets the memories fade away once more.
( but the sadness never disappears like the thorns around his heart. there are walls around his soul that keep people out but they are not designed for that: they are designed to cage him in like he deserves & prevent him from getting too close to people who did not deserve to be cursed by his care. if he can keep them out, he won’t love them, & maybe if he never loves again, they won’t die in his name.
if he never lets anyone close, they won’t be able to leave him. loneliness is a small price to pay & he welcomes it.
he’d rather be alone than grieving, in the end. )
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