Unfathomable

18.

Madara:

I stood and watched his rental car drive away, waving. I could still feel the taste of that last kiss on my lips. The red lights turned round a corner and disappeared, leaving a void in my heart that didn't match the sound of holiday makers skiing all around me. I needed to pack to go back to uni. I turned round.

It was hard walking from where Hashi had dropped me off to the hotel. For some reason, my legs were shaking, and it was hard to walk. I didn't understand why. My weekend bag felt heavy. So heavy. I dropped it to the ground. I tried to keep walking home, but my knees folded underneath me. It was cold. So cold. I felt my entire being starting to tremble, and I put my arms around myself. I couldn't remember falling, but I was laying in the snow, huffing and puffing, a drool of drool falling from my mouth to the ground.

"Madara..."

A voice far, far away.

I saw someone stand in front of me, lime green trousers and a pair of black snowboarding boots.

"Madara..."

I closed my eyes, let the whiteness around me be replaced by black.

"Tobes, could you help me carry him?"

I was lifted up by the arms, and I could work my legs pretty decently to take myself back home. I had to use everything I had to get myself through the corridors to our home. I was vaguely aware that I was taken in to the living room and put down on the beige couch with dark wooden details, the smells surrounding me familiar but not entirely home, because home for me was now another place, or rather a person.

I heard the muffled voice of my mother. Shit, she's going to know... She's going to know I love Hashi...

That's when it struck me I hadn't taken his phone number.

And I let sleep consume me.

I woke up to the sun having moved so it shone on my face through the windows. It welcomed me to that blissful state of not knowing you were sad because your brain hadn't woken up properly yet. But when it did, it all came back to you; the sadness, the despair, and the reasons behind it.

"Welcome back, dear." I looked up, and saw the face of my mother above me. I realised I was laying down with my head in her lap, and she was sitting on the sofa. "How do you feel?"

"Better", I croaked. Which was true, at least physically. Inside, my heart was bleeding.

"Drink this." She held out a mug of tea with a straw, and as I suspected, it was room-temperature with loads of sugar, just like when I was little and caught a cold. The familiar taste was comforting, somehow. I drank happily, letting myself be taken care of. "Now tell me, what happened."

"I don't know, mum. I think I just hadn't eaten in a while. Low blood sugar. I already feel much better with the tea."

My mother looked at me sternly. Her shoulderlength, blonde hair with loads of grey in it framed her soft face. "I know you well enough to know you would never go too long without eating. Madara." She took my face in her hands. "You can tell me."

It was as if a dam inside me burst, and I suddenly released everything I'd held within me. My face crumbled up, and I started crying rivers.

"Oh, my dear boy. My dear, dear son." My mother took me into her embrace and held me. "There, there", she said. "There, there."

I cried and cried, let my heart wrench itself inside out like a wet, dirty cloth, releasing it all, releasing it all out as I clung to my mother. "I'm sorry!" I wailed. "I'm sorry!" I kept crying, and mother just held me, for fifteen minutes, until I'd cried out.

"Do you love Hashi?" The question was soft, non-judgmental, like a blanket. It terrified me. I just nodded. "I knew you did."

"I'm sorry!" I wailed. "I'm sorry! I didn't want to tell you because I've already disappointed you with my university degree and my skiing and now I'm a homosexual as well and I like to wear dresses and-"

"Shhh!" My mum put her fingertip to my lips. "Madara, calm down. When have I ever said you're a disappointment?"

I snivelled a little. "You don't need to tell me. I know you would like me to focus on uni and drop skiing."

"Madara Uchiha. You are no disappointment to us. We are so proud of you. We are so impressed by you and your passion. We're just frightened. Ignore us! We're old and frightened and don't know how the world of you youngsters work. But in either case, even if we were disappointed in your skiing, what does that have to do with your sexuality?" I just stared at her. "Just because we don't like you and Izuna skiing, you don't think we would accept you being homosexual? Or any other sexuality or none at all? You hear how little sense that makes?" Something was lighting up inside me. A small fire of a burning hope. "Me and your dad aren't stupid. We've seen the way you look at him. And the way he looks at you. Why do you think we kept inviting him over?" She winked at me. I just blinked, confused. "And not to speak about Izuna and the other Mr Senju. God, they could have had each other's names tattooed on their foreheads, it's so obvious. It's like they're not even trying to hide it." She laughed a little at this, her clear, blue eyes looking away dreamily. I looked at her from where I sat next to her on the couch, my tears drying. Suddenly, she took my hand. "Come with me."

I followed her through the living room the her and dad's bedroom. She held my hand, her small frame walking in front of me eagerly. In the room, she opened a cabinet, bent down so she sat down on her knees and opened a drawer. She took out a college year book and turned the pages. Once she found the page she wanted, her face lit up, and she pointed and showed it to me. "You recognise her?"

"That's..." I squinted a little. "That's you!" Her skin was smooth, she was curvier and her hair was longer, but I recognised her features. "And that's..."

"My girlfriend at the time." She smiled proudly. I dropped my jaw.

"W-What?"

"I'm bisexual."

"Why did you never tell us?"

"Madara, my dear, in what context would I ever have brought it up?" That made sense, I guess. "Me and the girl broke up. Then I met your father and fell in love. And that was that. We couldn't have biological children because I have premature ovarian failure, but we are so happy and proud to have gotten you two. And we even decided to keep your Japanese names and last names because we thought that your identity was up to the two of you, not us."

"Dad... He knows?"

"About my sexuality or about you and Hashi? Oh doesn't matter, the answer to both of those questions are: Of course!" I was still trying to process all of this. "Come with me", she said, took my hand again and led me to the walk-in closed. She looked through the racks until she found what she wanted. "Here it is!" she said.

And she held out the most gorgeous dress I had ever seen in my life.

It was made of a dark grey chiffon, with long, very thin sleeves, with a tight figure on the upper body part and a flared out skirt that would reach the floor. The upper body was covered in a million tiny crystals, making it look like the body was covered in glitter. My guess was this would be particularly effectful on the sleeves, where the fabric was so thin that it would look like the crystals sat directly on the skin.

"Mum, that's..." I said breathlessly.

"It's my prom dress", she said proudly. "Alas, age has made me thin and frail, so I can't wear him anymore."

"Him?"

"I call all my items him. Perhaps I shouldn't assume." She winked at me. "But I would like you to have it."

"No, mum, I can't-"

"Yes, you can. And you will. See it as a token from me to start dressing in whatever you like. If you want to come down to dinner in a man's suit, go for it. If you want to come down in a skirt, go for it. Heck, you can even wear this if you want. Just don't spill on it!" I felt tears starting to form in my eyes, but I couldn't help but laugh. "Madara, we will always love you no matter what. We are worried. But it's not our place to decide on your life. Go wear a dress. And next year..." She winked at me. "Don't go competing without telling me and your dad. We want to be in the audience."

I threw myself into her arms and cried.