Day/Theme: August 9th / I am he whom I love and he whom I love is I.
Rating: at least in the PG-13 region
Spoilers for volume ten, perhaps?
When you are young, you do not grasp the true concept of things, Akiha thought, almost bitterly.
Most of his young life was idyllic, his world consisted of a setting worthy of a portrait. His father, stoic and almost unapproachable, his mother, golden haired and the perfect housewife.
Akiha resembled her in looks and actions everyone said. He would beam and she would softly disagree. “No, he’s more like his father” and then she would distance herself. Millimeters, a finger’s width away, enough to span two continents. So little that he never noticed until he was much older.
Akiha believed every word they said, believed that everything was fine, and when his mother disappeared after running an errand, he believed that should would return. When his father did not, Akiha believed so much that he saved and soon found footprints to follow.
Bus fair took most of it, he had to hike past many different houses all sorts of colors. Children played on the front steps, staring out at him like an alien until their mothers would call them inside for dinner or some errand.
It was late when he arrived. This was the house, all white with blue shutters and a well kept lawn. With a cobblestone path and picket fence, what dreams are made of.
Akiha was not hesitant as he knocked,
Her face was blank upon answering.
“Who is it, honey?” interrupted a man in the background. Akiha could just make him out, medium height, brown hair, glasses. Like a father anyone could want, probably one who stayed up late filing tax returns or slept in on Sundays.
“A strange boy.” She said, closing the door.
Such a soft sound, Akiha thought. He’d never realized that a door closing could have so many connotations.
On the last bus home, late night and only full of other stragglers – late workers looking zombiefied from their last shift. In the seat behind him was a mother – obviously from the garish beadwork keychain, the purse with crayon marks, the ripped and stained coat that did not look worse for wear.
She leaned closer to Akiha. “Are you ok? Your mother must be worried.”
Akiha smiled. “No, I’m she isn’t.”
“I’m sure you’ll be home soon then,” The woman said, and smiled. Happily returning her thoughts to her own children who were likely sleeping now, unaware of just how happy she was to have them.
Home. If only he knew where that was, Akiha thought. His head rested against the cool window, condensation formed around it, blurring the city lights. There was no sound except for the hum of the tires, shifting of gears and the crackling of a half broken radio. The driver hummed along offtune.