𝓑𝓵𝓸𝓸𝓭 𝓘𝓷 𝓣𝓱𝓮 𝓥𝓮𝓲𝓷𝓼

↳003

As Hinata drifted off, the faint sound of raised voices from downstairs began to pierce through the calm. He stirred, his consciousness clawing its way back to the surface as he struggled to make sense of the noise. 

The words were muffled, but the tone was unmistakable—his parents were arguing again.Hinata sat up, rubbing his eyes. He didn't want to listen, but the tension in their voices was hard to ignore. 

The familiar cadence of anger and frustration resonated through the floorboards, sending a shiver down his spine. 

 He tried to block it out, focusing instead on the rhythmic patter of rain against the window. But the voices grew louder, more insistent, pulling him back to the harsh reality of his situation. 

 "...not fair to him!" his mother's voice rose, carrying a note of desperation. 

"Fair? Do you think life is fair?" his father's retort was sharp, laced with bitterness. 

Hinata's heart ached as he listened. He knew they were talking about him, about the bruises and the arguments, the silent battles he fought every day. He hugged his knees to his chest, feeling the weight of their words pressing down on him. 

He didn't want to hear any more. He needed to escape, to find a way to shut out the noise, looking around the room he caught a glimpse of his headphones. Pushing himself out of the bed he made his way to his shelf grabbing the said headphones. 

Returning back to his bed he connected his headphones and begun to play some music, as Hinata drifted in and out of sleep, the muffled sounds of the argument downstairs gradually faded, replaced by the steady beat of the music in his ears. The soothing melodies helped him relax, and he finally succumbed to the exhaustion that had been tugging at him all evening.

Hours later, Hinata awoke to the soft glow of early morning light filtering through his window. The house was eerily quiet now, the tension from the night before seemingly dissolved into the calm of a new day. He removed his headphones and sat up, stretching his sore muscles.

The events of the previous night replayed in his mind, the argument, the bruises, the overwhelming sense of isolation. But as he looked out the window at the gently swaying trees and the soft hues of dawn, he felt a flicker of hope. He had made it through another night, and that in itself was a small victory.

With a deep breath, Hinata decided it was time to face the day. He stood up, pulling on a hoodie to cover the bruise on his side. The fabric felt comforting against his skin, a protective layer between him and the outside world.

He opened his bedroom door cautiously, listening for any signs of life. The house was still, the only sound the faint ticking of the clock in the hallway. He made his way downstairs, the floorboards creaking softly under his feet.

In the kitchen, Hinata found his mother sitting at the table, a cup of coffee cradled in her hands. Her eyes were red-rimmed, evidence of a sleepless night. She looked up as he entered, a small, tired smile crossing her face.

"Good morning, sweetheart," she said, her voice soft.

"Morning, Mom," Hinata replied, trying to keep his tone light.

They sat in silence for a few moments, the weight of unspoken words hanging between them. Finally, his mother spoke, her voice trembling slightly. "I'm sorry about last night, Shoyo. Your father and I...we just..." She trailed off, unable to find the right words.

"It's okay, Mom," Hinata said quietly, though they both knew it wasn't entirely true. "I'm used to it."

Her eyes filled with tears, and she reached out to grasp his hand. "You shouldn't have to be."

Hinata squeezed her hand gently, offering what little comfort he could. "I know, Mom. But I'm okay. We'll get through this."

She nodded, a tear slipping down her cheek. "We will," she whispered, more to herself than to him.

After a few more moments of quiet, Hinata stood up, giving his mother's hand one last squeeze before heading to the fridge to grab something for breakfast. He could feel her eyes on him, filled with both worry and pride.

As he prepared his meal, he thought about the day ahead. He had school, a place where he could escape, even if just for a few hours. He had friends who cared about him, teachers who supported him. And most importantly, he had a resilience that he had built up over years of enduring the chaos at home.

Finishing his breakfast, Hinata grabbed his backpack and slung it over his shoulder. He paused at the door, looking back at his mother, who gave him an encouraging nod.

"Have a good day at school, Hinata," she said softly.

"I will, Mom," he replied, offering her a small smile. "I promise." With that, he stepped out into the morning light. As he walked down the street, the warmth of the sun on his face.

The air was cool, and the soft rustling of leaves in the breeze hinted at a better day ahead. Each step felt intentional, as if Hinata was trying to stay grounded, to shake off the remnants of the night before.

He walked past familiar houses, each one a reminder of the world beyond his own—a world that seemed far removed from the chaos at home. His footsteps echoed in the quiet street, matching the steady beat of his heart. As he got closer to the school, the distant sounds of laughter and chatter started to fill his ears, a stark contrast to the silence he had left behind.

The school gates came into view, marking the entrance to a different reality. Here, he wasn't just the boy stuck in the middle of his parents' fights.

As he entered the school grounds, he spotted Yachi, his best friend, standing by the entrance with her usual nervous look. With a smile he lifted his hand, giving her a gentle wave.