26 || painkiller

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Kiyoshi stared out of the window, his eyes cold and empty, almost glassy, as they mirrored the image of the upcoming spring. The trees carried delicate blossoms on their fresh twigs, which the sun carefully illuminated behind light clouds. Birds now sang long after the sunsets and chirped in the early mornings, waking the world up to the prospect of a bright, new day.

Days that, to Kiyoshi, meant a repetition of the same, painful cycle that his routine had merged into. Mornings, noons and evenings were marked only by the different color patterns of his painkillers; his tired eyes had stopped associating the different hues of the sky with the endless possible activities he could do - the little thrills were totally gone. There was no more school, no more soccer tournament, no more Kaori, no more you. 
You had totally disappeared, taking the sounds and colors of the house along with you. Maybe you'd decided to leave him, now that his spark and happiness were completely gone. 

Burned in his mind was the image of all the tears you shed at his bedside during his hospital stay, and your desperate attempts to elicit even a whisper from his silent lips. Each unspoken plea now weighed heavily on his heart, a constant reminder of how powerless he was in front of your desperation. And then you were gone, slipping away like a ghost in the night, leaving him alone with his thoughts and regrets.

As Kiyoshi grappled with the daunting prospect of recovery, he found himself adrift in a sea of solitude. The once bustling household now lay eerily silent, a stark contrast to the cacophony of emotions raging within him. And amidst the stillness, his head screamed with questions. Maybe the same man who'd broken into the house and broke his legs was now hurting you; Kiyoshi's stomach sank at the thought - believing that you had left voluntarily was much easier than the thought of you being in pain. 

"Hey baby," your mother's voice came out like a whisper, as she put her bag down on the couch, "How are you?"
It was clear that a lump of guilt sat in her throat, masking her once sharp voice into a muffled, pained, blabber. Kiyoshi immediately picked up on it; he glanced over at the clock, noticing that she was an hour later than usual, and she was completely bathed in the pungent odor of alcohol.

"Same as every other day." 
Kiyoshi was short and dry in his reply, turning his head away from the mess of a mother that stood not too far away - yet, her dreamy stance suggested that she was off in a different world. 
His eyes filled once again with tears. It wasn't unusual now; nowadays, he found himself blinking away the stinging burn of sadness multiple times a day. No matter how hard he tried, however, his overwhelming thoughts won every single time. 

Your mother didn't notice his cheeks damp with tears, but Kiyoshi didn't blame her for the absent stares that she laid on indefinite point of the house. He knew all too well how many troubles she was silently carrying in her heart - starting from her condition of a working single mom, now her reality even more upside-down as she came back home to a crippled son and a vanished daughter.

It had been a week since you had disappeared.

At first, your mother didn't really put much thought to it, justifying your absence with a sleepover at a friend's house. Sure, it was unusual of you to not even inform her; but with a heavy heart, she realised that probably she didn't even matter anymore. And with that, she brushed off the possibility of you being in danger.

The second day, however, your mother started to get more uneasy. The answer to all of her calls was an awful robotic voice, stating that your phone was disconnected. She paced around the house nervously, picking at her nails as her face burned in concern. The temptation to call your father was high, but she slapped herself every single time her hand searched for his number.
That would've just given him more reasons to mock her inadequacy; and she dreaded the sound of his snotty voice.

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