The Moon's Redamancy In Fall [Tsukishima x Yamaguchi]

seventy.

Yamaguchi

"Oh, Tadashi, you're home!" My dad perked up from the couch, he wore black slacks and a sky blue polo, it even looked a little too tight on him.

 My mom sat quietly on the couch, dried up blood by her lower lip and an almost gruesome and hideous purple-black bruise over her right cheek, still fresh and it seemed like something had happened for the past few minutes. 

The books and my mom's magazines were scattered on the floor. Though, this isn't something new to me, I've always witness them fight in my childhood days. It felt as if the memories of my mom and dad yelling at each other trickled in my mind.

The same memories lingering through the shaken walls of this house, my mom's piercing yells can be heard once again, I stared at my dad in horror as I witnessed the messy house that was once clean that my mom had been giving her efforts on to maintain our house neat. Anger, pain, sadness - so intertwined that perhaps my dad's name aught to be tweaked to reflect the true origins of these emotions.

I swallowed that anger when it was a fire-seed and forgot to drink something cool, and so it grew in my belly until it came out as hot as any dragon has ever flames . . . on the person I loved most. I'll never forget my mother's eyes, how she wouldn't even muster anything from keeping up with dad's bullshit.

White knuckles from clenching my fist too hard, and gritted teeth from effort to remain silent, my hunched from exuded an animosity that was like acid - burning, slicing, potent. 

My mom's face was red with suppressed rage, and when my dad even set a finger on her shoulder, she swung around and mentally snapped, "Come on, now, honey. Aren't you excited to see me?" My dad's voice silenced the entire house.

I frowned towards him and swallowed hard, "What are you doing here?" I managed to ask, not taking my eyes off of him, "And what did you do to mom?" 

"Well . . . we had a little discussion about your . . . friend, Tsukishima." He trailed, wiping off his tinted red knuckles with a white piece of cloth as he scoffed, glaring back to my mom.

Tsukki?

What about him?

What is he going to do?

What do I not know? 

My brows reconnected in the middle, I grimaced, my heart dropping down to my stomach, "What do you know about him?" My curiosity asking for me, I took a one step closer as I dropped my bag from my shoulder.

"There are a lot of things you do not know, Tadashi," My dad chuckled, grabbing a chair and placing it next to the coffee table, "Please have a seat, I'm sure there's a lot to discuss." 

I blinked and stayed silent, I peered over my mom and I saw her pursed her lips together into a hard line before nodding her head slightly, as if begging me to just listen and obey. I quickly glanced down on my watch by my wrist and suddenly felt too nervous, "Yachi-san's coming over in half an hour." I tell him in a monotone voice, giving him a deadpan stare. 

This fear is my challenge and my demon to slay, for it will come until I do unannounced. The only way out is to order this brain to function, to demand solutions instead of this crazy-making circling anxiety. So though it feels as if my bones have no more strength and my muscles are all out of power, I still have the option to remain still, to be quiet enough to choose how to fight.

I had been doing this since I was a child, so this is normally not new to me. I have told my mom countless of times to separate with my dad but she would always tells me how my dad loves her very much and that we wouldn't have anywhere to stay anymore once she'd file a divorce. 

"I guess we'll have company, am I right, honey?" My dad said, sitting down by the easy chair before placing his left leg over his right, "Come on, now, sit down if you want to make this quick." 

I gulped and nodded my head, slowly but surely, I stride towards the chair and sat quietly, I looked over my mom and then back to my dad, waiting for someone to speak. Anyone.

My dad took out a box of cigar, putting it over his mouth. I swallowed, the air of the room was too thick to even breathe properly.

"These cigars are your mother's favorite." He mumbled through his lips that holds the expensive cigarette that could probably buy enough food for the table, lighting it up with a Zippo lighter. I didn't speak, my face still in a frown as I waited for them to say something.

The wrinkled toxic stick had a slow creeping stench. Within moments its chemicals invaded everything we were, from a sickly yellow film over our skin to the air in our lungs.

The cigarette smoke had this entitlement, to be closer to me than some subway creep breathing in my face, touching as if random yet calculated.

There is nothing more creepy to me than a person with emotions that don't match the situation. My dad consistently look happy when others are in pain. He is unable to truly look sad when others have a trauma to relate. Those people are feeling an inner surge of pleasure when others hurt. Children can be this way as they grow, but in an adult it's just plain creepy.

Eyes of palest watery blue, like a creature who's spent it's life in perpetual shadow. Seems to slithers and oozes from one place to another, skulking, slinking, leering, my dad's head bobs erratically as if it's is too heavy for the thin long neck with protruding Adam's apple. Shifty eyes.

The clock is ticking and I grew more frantic each passing time. My dad blew the smoke and sighed before leaning over the couch. "Honey, mind explaining Tadashi what you never told him?"

My mom shifts on her seat uncomfortably and frowned, averting her eyes as her pupils dragged on the carpeted floor, "U-Um . . ." She mumbled.

I squinted my eyes as I tried to decipher what my mom's expressions were trying to tell, though, it seemed as if she was almost terrified. What is she going to tell me? Will it be that bad? I prayed to where I sat, wishing that it isn't too bad to the point that my mom would take a bruise from my dad.

With shifty and glistening eyes, my mom took a deep breath before completely looking at me straight in the eyes, "You aren't supposed to be hanging out with Tsukishima's son, Kei-kun." 

What?

I stared at her in pure bewilderment, trying to muster what she was trying to say, I quirked an eyebrow before my mouth falling a little open, "What do you mean?" I ask her.

"Your father had told me to keep you away from the Tsukishimas a long time ago, I-I was . . ." She paused, looking down to her feet, fumbling with her fingers.

My dad  shuffled his feet on the floor, "Your mother is a fucking faggot who was once in love with your friend's mother!" He exclaimed, anger boiling from his voice, as I hear my mom broke into small sobs, "I told your mother to keep you away from them but as stubborn as a bitch can be, she did not." 

Tears stung my eyes as my fists balled instinctively, my breath grew rigid, "M-Mom . . . What does he mean?" I was still confused, as if everything felt like a dream. This can't be happening. It only made sense how my mom didn't like Kei being around the household so much. She was scared that my dad might come home anytime and that he would find out. 

My mind floods with so much questions, I stared at her my mom as I watched her shoulders shake violently, making those soft, small whimpers escape her busted lip, "I-I was going to tell you, Tadashi . . . I was going to tell you . . . but I was so scared." She cried.

My heart leaps up to my throat as I tried my best not to cry in front of my dad. My mom was in love with Kaori-san . . . that's a lot to take in. The living room fell silent, nothing but the emptiness of this devastating household and my mother's sobbing. My chest burned in anger, pain, sadness . . . I didn't exactly know what to feel but just looking for the contentment to hurt my own father. The silence was interrupted with a knocking on the door.

I froze.

Yachi-san's here.