[ Maruki almost asks what the damn landlord has to do with it, a kneejerk reaction he's had many times, but he catches himself at the last moment and tries to school a little seriousness into his tone and expression both. ]
Don't say damn. We've talked about this.
[ He rests an elbow on the table, his chin on his palm, fingers drumming against his cheek as he watches Akechi doodle. ]
You don't need to lie to make people like your mother, Goro. You like her, right? [ Present tense, not past. ] If they see her through your eyes, they'll like her too.
[ The 'I'm sorry' comes out soft, a too large petal drawn on the paper as he does. He is! For the moment! The slipup happens less these days - he wants to be good for them so they'll keep him.
He's been here for a long time. They say they're not giving him back. It's too difficult to imagine the possibility of a future in one home, so he doesn't.
But this year his two current parents will fill his paper with his mom. He never put other foster parents on his assignments. ]
It doesn't work. The lady at the bathhouse - she didn't like my mom. [ Quiet, and- ] And she didn't like me, so she wouldn't listen. That's okay though.
[ She isn't here. Maruki is. Maruki likes his mom, so- ]
Her favorite color's blue. [ And he watches. Waits. Wants to see if that makes him happy or not. He'll change the color if he looks upset. ]
[ Well, that's interesting. Blue just so happens to be Maruki's favorite color. Is Akechi being honest, or catering to what he thinks Maruki might want to hear? Hm...
He smiles down at Akechi, taps the part of the page where that needs to be filled in. ]
Blue's a nice color. Let's write that down.
[ As he moves his hand away, he brings it up to rest over the top of Akechi's head instead, gently ruffling through his hair. ]
Grownups can be difficult sometimes. The lady at the bathhouse should have been kinder to you. That's not your fault, or your mother's.
[ Maruki turns in his chair to face his son fully, both hands over his little shoulders to turn him to do the same. If it's possible for someone to be gentle and firm all at once, it's a tone Maruki has perfected in the short time they've had Akechi in their lives. ]
Be honest about what your mom likes, not what I like. You're not trying to impress anyone, okay?
[ And maybe he does, more than anything, want to talk about his mom to anyone that will listen. Every supposed imperfection a part of her he adored. Every like, dislike, anything that mad her laugh during periods of distress that lasted longer and longer-
He's not trying to impress anyone. Not his classmates. Father. A second mother who loves him as much as the first. She would repeat the same things Maruki is now.
It feels like he's in trouble. A few months ago, he would have waited for a social worker to pick him up.
He looks at his dad, away, back towards him and over the picture eye level with them both.
And turns to erase his answers.]
I wish you were her friend. [ Mumbled, a little hum follows. The Featherman theme offkey as ever. ] Rumi too. [ Quieter, and- ] She would have been really happy. [ Scratchy, messy. Akechi XXXXX. Birthday, xx/xx. He can't remember the year. Favorite color, red. Favorite food, egg salad sando.
[ He's not in trouble, far from it. Hopefully it's evident in the way Maruki rests a hand between his tiny shoulder blades as he hunches back over his paper. His other arm props up on the table so he can lean his cheek into his palm, tilting his head to read what Akechi scribbles in each section.
It kills him, sometimes, just a bit. The fact that he and Rumi will never truly know this woman. The fact that she had to suffer so much with no one to help her. The fact that it was her suffering that led to their lives becoming so fulfilled, so complete. There is no world in which Akechi's mother and Akechi could both be in their lives, but he does wish–
Perhaps, in the next life. ]
It would have made me happy to be her friend, too.
[ His thumb runs gently along the line of one of Akechi's shoulder blades. ]
Some people's minds work against them. I'm sure she wanted to be happy.
[ His heart beats heavy in his chest for a moment, and then– ]
Finds those words give life to what he loves about her - more than anything in the world, she tried. He writes it down in a block meant to summarize his love for someone that never felt it.
She tried by tucking blankets around him after putting him to bed far later than any other child on the block. Akechi used to think it was the coolest thing in the world to stay up until the early morning hours, let the dull voice of midnight shopping channel lull him to sleep from a room away.
She tried by checking nutrition labels on vending machine drinks and konbini meals before opening up the containers for them to share. Tried by cutting coupons and waiting for sales to get him clothes that fit because he grows faster than her pay. Tried by getting him a handmedown bookbag in his favorite color from a neighbor that took pity on them in his earliest days of school. ]
She did her best.
[ It's not uncommon to hear his tone waver, perpetually on the verge of tears most days. It happens now. It happens because she did her best, but Akechi can't recall who tucked her in, who checked the labels of her food, who got her new clothes, even if she doesn't grow anymore.
He continues to scratch at the end of She did her best. No words, no drawings, just one scratch digging into another. ]
I think I made her sad. [ And she died. ] I don't want to make you sad. You can send me back if I do.
[ Maruki watches those characters appear, heart creaking with how much it aches. She did her best. Hopefully his teachers let that pass without comment; he may talk to them before the assignment is turned in, just to let them know. He can't help how much he hovers...
He tucks strands of Akechi's hair behind his ear, soothes over the back of his head. ]
You don't make Rumi or I sad. You're the greatest thing that's happened to us.
[ And he could try once more to help Akechi understand that there will never be another instance of being sent back– god, but it still makes his blood boil to think of how callous other families were with this little life entrusted to them.
He could try that, but... ]
I don't think you made your mom sad, either. Even if she wasn't happy all the time...
[ This is more important to help Akechi begin to understand. He knows it won't sink in today, or even any time soon. But he will chip away at it little by little. He and Rumi both will. ]
What other feelings are there besides happy and sad?
[ With that affection given freely any given day, Akechi doesn't wonder if he's loved. Knows he is. Laying in Rumi's lap feels like love. Helping Takuto cook feels like love. Every touch solidifies it.
But his mom loved him and now she's gone. Love doesn't keep people from hiding their sorrows behind closed doors until they can't take it anymore. ]
Mmm.
[ Happy. Sad. ]
Angry. [ It's like a homework assignment. He tries to run through them all. ] Scared.
[ And next to Akechi xxxxx, he starts to write down his other mother. Maruki Rumi. Birthday. Favorite Food. ]
[ Maruki can't hide the smile that appears when Rumi's name does; he watches the answers about her line up against the ones about Akechi's mother, as different as can be, and still knows in his heart they would have found some common ground to become friends. It's difficult for Rumi to not reach her hand out to someone in need, after all. ]
That's right. I'm sure your mother felt calm because of you at times. You napped together a lot, right?
[ He's tucked every story Akechi has told him about her against his heart. ]
I'm sure you made her laugh. You made her feel fulfilled, and proud, and loved. Even if she wasn't happy, Goro... you still made her feel much more than sadness.
[ She did laugh. She was proud. She felt loved. It's hard to remember when all he sees is a dangling corpse stuck in the corner of his vision.
The way Maruki's heart beats isn't unlike her own. Rumi's is the same. It's only their laughs that differ, their voices. It echoes in his ear the same way. Fills Maruki and Rumi's chest until it tickles Akechi's ear the same way. Makes him feel as warm as he did when his mother would smooth down his hair and chuckle at whatever rambles came out of his mouth.
He wants her back. He wants her here. He wants to press her head down on the chest of people whose hearts beat with more love than he can comprehend.
But he can't and he sees wet spots on the paper below him. He can't and all he wants is to say he loves her again and he can't, so he tries to recreate it on a sheet of paper that won't ever fit all of her.
Akechi wipes his eyes with the back of his hand. Wishes it had been too much love that killed her. ]
Can we take a nap?
god.... we can wrap......... we know what horrors are coming
[ Tears dot the page, pooling like little puddles on the thick, glossy paper. Maruki daubs them off gently with one sleeve so as not to smudge Akechi's writing – the other comes up to take his son's grubby little hand, moving it away with untold tenderness so he can wipe those tears himself. He's done it again and again, practically since the first day they met Akechi. He'd do it for the rest of Akechi's life if only it were allowed. ]
Of course. We can finish this tomorrow. There's no rush.
[ Another swipe of his thumb beneath each teary eye, and then Maruki tips Akechi's chin up to look at him, beaming with pride. ]
[ It's his blurry vision that distorts his dad to look like the woman hanging on the wall. He hears her voice in those words, but-
He loves his mom.
He loved his mom. He'll never stop loving his mom.
But he loves his dad. He wants to see his dad. He can't fathom a life without those hands brushing against his face, saying those words.
So he blinks and blinks and blinks his mom away until his dad comes into view. ]
I love you. [ As he crawls into his lap and wraps his arms around Maruki's torso as far as they can go. His face presses into his shirt. He'll be taken to a bed, a couch, the floor. He doesn't worry about that anymore.
But he worries his love with never reach. Worries it won't be enough. Worries that one day he'll wake up and it won't matter how proud Maruki was. He needs to say it enough - over and over, so he never has to wonder why to lie about Maruki's likes on a piece paper for people who would never know him.
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
no subject
About my mom. People didn't like her, but I want them too.
[ He starts to draw the smallest little flower at the corner of the paper - it's mindless. Just to move his hand, keep himself occupied. ]
I want my friends to think she was really cool and tell their moms and dads she was really nice. If they want to be her friend...
[ She won't come back. ]
I'll say she cooked every day and liked taxes and the damn landlord.
no subject
Don't say damn. We've talked about this.
[ He rests an elbow on the table, his chin on his palm, fingers drumming against his cheek as he watches Akechi doodle. ]
You don't need to lie to make people like your mother, Goro. You like her, right? [ Present tense, not past. ] If they see her through your eyes, they'll like her too.
no subject
He's been here for a long time. They say they're not giving him back. It's too difficult to imagine the possibility of a future in one home, so he doesn't.
But this year his two current parents will fill his paper with his mom. He never put other foster parents on his assignments. ]
It doesn't work. The lady at the bathhouse - she didn't like my mom. [ Quiet, and- ] And she didn't like me, so she wouldn't listen. That's okay though.
[ She isn't here. Maruki is. Maruki likes his mom, so- ]
Her favorite color's blue. [ And he watches. Waits. Wants to see if that makes him happy or not. He'll change the color if he looks upset. ]
no subject
He smiles down at Akechi, taps the part of the page where that needs to be filled in. ]
Blue's a nice color. Let's write that down.
[ As he moves his hand away, he brings it up to rest over the top of Akechi's head instead, gently ruffling through his hair. ]
Grownups can be difficult sometimes. The lady at the bathhouse should have been kinder to you. That's not your fault, or your mother's.
no subject
The more he lies, the more he'll get pat, the more the mean bathhouse lady will get dragged. That's the lesson.
Her favorite food was-]
Tempura udon.
no subject
Is that your final answer?
no subject
[ It feels like he should say something else.
...
..
. ]
With fishcake.
[ Nailed it. ]
no subject
[ Maruki turns in his chair to face his son fully, both hands over his little shoulders to turn him to do the same. If it's possible for someone to be gentle and firm all at once, it's a tone Maruki has perfected in the short time they've had Akechi in their lives. ]
Be honest about what your mom likes, not what I like. You're not trying to impress anyone, okay?
no subject
He's not trying to impress anyone. Not his classmates. Father. A second mother who loves him as much as the first. She would repeat the same things Maruki is now.
It feels like he's in trouble. A few months ago, he would have waited for a social worker to pick him up.
He looks at his dad, away, back towards him and over the picture eye level with them both.
And turns to erase his answers.]
I wish you were her friend. [ Mumbled, a little hum follows. The Featherman theme offkey as ever. ] Rumi too. [ Quieter, and- ] She would have been really happy. [ Scratchy, messy. Akechi XXXXX. Birthday, xx/xx. He can't remember the year. Favorite color, red. Favorite food, egg salad sando.
Favorite thing about her- ]
Why wasn't she happy?
no subject
It kills him, sometimes, just a bit. The fact that he and Rumi will never truly know this woman. The fact that she had to suffer so much with no one to help her. The fact that it was her suffering that led to their lives becoming so fulfilled, so complete. There is no world in which Akechi's mother and Akechi could both be in their lives, but he does wish–
Perhaps, in the next life. ]
It would have made me happy to be her friend, too.
[ His thumb runs gently along the line of one of Akechi's shoulder blades. ]
Some people's minds work against them. I'm sure she wanted to be happy.
[ His heart beats heavy in his chest for a moment, and then– ]
She did the best she could.
no subject
Finds those words give life to what he loves about her - more than anything in the world, she tried. He writes it down in a block meant to summarize his love for someone that never felt it.
She tried by tucking blankets around him after putting him to bed far later than any other child on the block. Akechi used to think it was the coolest thing in the world to stay up until the early morning hours, let the dull voice of midnight shopping channel lull him to sleep from a room away.
She tried by checking nutrition labels on vending machine drinks and konbini meals before opening up the containers for them to share. Tried by cutting coupons and waiting for sales to get him clothes that fit because he grows faster than her pay. Tried by getting him a handmedown bookbag in his favorite color from a neighbor that took pity on them in his earliest days of school. ]
She did her best.
[ It's not uncommon to hear his tone waver, perpetually on the verge of tears most days. It happens now. It happens because she did her best, but Akechi can't recall who tucked her in, who checked the labels of her food, who got her new clothes, even if she doesn't grow anymore.
He continues to scratch at the end of She did her best. No words, no drawings, just one scratch digging into another. ]
I think I made her sad. [ And she died. ] I don't want to make you sad. You can send me back if I do.
no subject
He tucks strands of Akechi's hair behind his ear, soothes over the back of his head. ]
You don't make Rumi or I sad. You're the greatest thing that's happened to us.
[ And he could try once more to help Akechi understand that there will never be another instance of being sent back– god, but it still makes his blood boil to think of how callous other families were with this little life entrusted to them.
He could try that, but... ]
I don't think you made your mom sad, either. Even if she wasn't happy all the time...
[ This is more important to help Akechi begin to understand. He knows it won't sink in today, or even any time soon. But he will chip away at it little by little. He and Rumi both will. ]
What other feelings are there besides happy and sad?
no subject
But his mom loved him and now she's gone. Love doesn't keep people from hiding their sorrows behind closed doors until they can't take it anymore. ]
Mmm.
[ Happy. Sad. ]
Angry. [ It's like a homework assignment. He tries to run through them all. ] Scared.
[ And next to Akechi xxxxx, he starts to write down his other mother. Maruki Rumi. Birthday. Favorite Food. ]
Calm.
no subject
That's right. I'm sure your mother felt calm because of you at times. You napped together a lot, right?
[ He's tucked every story Akechi has told him about her against his heart. ]
I'm sure you made her laugh. You made her feel fulfilled, and proud, and loved. Even if she wasn't happy, Goro... you still made her feel much more than sadness.
no subject
The way Maruki's heart beats isn't unlike her own. Rumi's is the same. It's only their laughs that differ, their voices. It echoes in his ear the same way. Fills Maruki and Rumi's chest until it tickles Akechi's ear the same way. Makes him feel as warm as he did when his mother would smooth down his hair and chuckle at whatever rambles came out of his mouth.
He wants her back. He wants her here. He wants to press her head down on the chest of people whose hearts beat with more love than he can comprehend.
But he can't and he sees wet spots on the paper below him. He can't and all he wants is to say he loves her again and he can't, so he tries to recreate it on a sheet of paper that won't ever fit all of her.
Akechi wipes his eyes with the back of his hand. Wishes it had been too much love that killed her. ]
Can we take a nap?
god.... we can wrap......... we know what horrors are coming
Of course. We can finish this tomorrow. There's no rush.
[ Another swipe of his thumb beneath each teary eye, and then Maruki tips Akechi's chin up to look at him, beaming with pride. ]
You did well. I'm so proud of you.
shuts my eyes and wraps
He loves his mom.
He loved his mom. He'll never stop loving his mom.
But he loves his dad. He wants to see his dad. He can't fathom a life without those hands brushing against his face, saying those words.
So he blinks and blinks and blinks his mom away until his dad comes into view. ]
I love you. [ As he crawls into his lap and wraps his arms around Maruki's torso as far as they can go. His face presses into his shirt. He'll be taken to a bed, a couch, the floor. He doesn't worry about that anymore.
But he worries his love with never reach. Worries it won't be enough. Worries that one day he'll wake up and it won't matter how proud Maruki was. He needs to say it enough - over and over, so he never has to wonder why to lie about Maruki's likes on a piece paper for people who would never know him.
Quiet. Muffled. ]
I love you.