Takemichi Angst Prompts

5) "Seeing you hurts me"

Inspired by an episode from Kotaro Lives Alone

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"How come we never went to Takemichi's place?" Makoto asked.

The Mizo Mid looked at Takuya expectantly as he is Takemichi's childhood friend and therefore know him the longest.

"Well..." he thought for a moment. "Even when we were younger, he always went to my place. Never his."

"Well then let's go!" Yamagishi exclaimed. "Let's surprise him."

Takemichi's four middle school friends decided it was a good idea to visit him unprompted. They knocked on his door, waiting patiently. The door opened with a confused and surprised Takemichi.

"What are you guys doing here?"

"We just can't to visit."

"Plus we wanted to go to your house at least once you know."

Takemichi laughed. "alright alright. Come on in."

"This place is neat!" Makoto exclaimed as he looked around.

"You live alone?" Akkun asked.

"Yeah." Takemichi rubbed the back of his neck sheepishly. "Since I was 9 actually."

"Hey Takemichi," Yamagishi called over from Takemichi's bedroom. They all entered the room to see what Yamagishi was doing. "What's these gloves for?"

They looked at a box of surgical gloves behind a glass case. They looked at him for an answer, wondering why something insignificant was displayed and protected like some kind of historical relic.

Takemichi walked towards the case, opened it, and held the gloves with such fondness one didnt expect to see someone give gloves of all things.

"I wish I had a girl look at me like Takemichi looks at his gloves." Yamagishi whispered to Takuya who stiffled a laugh.

"These are very important to me." Takemichi said, still looking at the gloves with love.

"They are whats left of my mom."

"Why's that?" Akkun asked. "Was she a doctor?"

"She'd wear these gloves whenever she would bathe me, dress me, and feed me."

The four were shocked. That was fucked up.

"W-what?" Yamagishi stammered.

"Did you know about this?" Akkun asked Takuya who was just as shocked at the revelation.

"Then why do you still keep that?" Makoto asked incredulously, pointing at the object in Takemichi's hands like he was accusing it of murder.

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4-year-old Takemichi stood still as his mother buttoned his pajamas for him. She wore surgical gloves for some reason. He didn't know why. He never asked.

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"Mommy look!" Young Takemichi excitedly showed a picture he drew of his family. His dream family, at least.

Childish stick figures of a man, a woman and a child in crayon. His mom kept her head down, looking sad and tired as usual.

Takemichi's face fell. He looked at his work sadly, focusing on the smiley faces of his drawing. He doesn't even know who his dad is. But this drawing represents what he wanted. A happy family.

He looked up at his mom again. No emotion whatsoever. He went to his room and cried into his pillow.

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