affection

twenty six

sunday

kai's avoided his entire household, again. he's spent all weekend with elliot and jake, but now it's sunday night and he's forced to have another 'family dinner.'

he's tapping on table to an imaginary beat, pretending that everything is fine. he's getting somewhat good at pretending, though that's not a good thing.

kai shrinks into his chair, eric is staring at linda as she dishes out the meal she's made, and for some reason; layla is glaring at right at him.

he shifts uncomfortably, he supposes eric told her everything. he isn't sure if he regrets saying anything at all.

as his mother settles into her own chair, she looks around the table with a beaming smile.

has he done it already?

"i can't hold this in any longer," she starts, "i wanted to announce to everyone that i am...pregnant!"

layla and eric cheer with excitement, but for kai, a pin drops. between their poor acting skills and the squealing, he assumes everybody already know. they all did, but him.

he understands now, why the spontaneous proposal 'idea.' he understands everything, all at once.

but...a baby? with her drinking problem, a dysfunctional son and this shattered home?

"are you fucking kidding me?" kai speaks, at then frowns, he hadn't meant to say that out loud. the room suddenly grows silent.

aside from that rhetoric, he didn't react any other way. he quietly stood from his chair and avoided all eye contact, before dashing outside and into the garage.

kai's fingers tremble as they slide along the all too familiar, rough material of the grip tape on his skateboard. as he's about to grab it, his eyes catch a box in the corner of the room, the dim lights don't help him to recognise it.

he drops the board, tilting his head as he walks over, he sinks to the floor and pulls it out from behind an old cabinet.

he lifts the lid, delicately, as if it isn't his to touch.

inside, lay hundreds of old photographs, and he picks up a stack with his still shaky fingers. he only just recognises himself in some of the photos.

he flicks through, one is him as a toddler, grinning at the camera. another is him only slightly older, sitting in the snow and about to lick some from his glove. he flips this one over, and on the back in blotted blue ink, it reads, 'kai's first snow'

a warm smile spreads across his face as he keeps flipping through, but the next photo erases any trace of a smile.

it's him and his brother, standing side by side with their arms around each other. kai, the shorter one has his shirt off and a batman mask over his eyes while his older brother sticks his thumbs up. in the background, their first television with an old game the pair used to love on.

the next photo is the same, however in this one, the two are joined by an older man. he's crouches between them both, face smushed between the two boys' and he's grinning at the camera.

his heart aches. on the back of this photo, in his mother's handwriting, 'my three happy boys.'

is it ironic that all three of them are no longer happy?

the next photo, is all of them together. kai, noah, his dad and his mom sitting around a christmas tree with hats on from a cracker.

he remembers this day. this was their last happy  christmas together. the year after, everything changed.

another photo, his dad and him are side by side. kai is looking up at his father in adoration, but his dad looks unhappy, irritated.

kai scoffs at this photo and rips it up before he can think about it any further.

the next photo is just of his mother, a glass of red in her handwriting as she grins, cuddling kai with her other hand.

he wonders if this is where things started going south for her and he suddenly feels overwhelmed by sadness.

kai can't say he blames her for choosing alcohol over him, he was a shell of a person growing up. without being able to speak, what was it other than a ghost?

he shudders at the thought.

he doesn't dare look at anymore photos, so he pockets a couple before grabbing his skateboard and sprinting out of his garage. it clanks to the ground and he jumps on, speeding up faster and faster.

as if trying to run from his past, but how can he run from it when it's all around? he's suffocating in his own memories, memories he'd rather die than relive.

memories he'd rather die than remember.

but what if he doesn't have a choice?

...
wc: 800
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i erased the first draft i had of this saved somehow and had to remember what i could about this chapter AND REWRITE IT i'm so mad. sorry if the ending is scuffed, i literally have no memory.