The Remainder of the Equinox

Chapter Twelve

They didn't call it April showers for nothing. Over the course of a week, the downpour went from mild to near flood-inducing. Genji didn't really pay attention to this thought; he was trying his best not to veer off the road. The blurriness from the rain mixed with the slick pavement could be potentially fatal. He put half of the blame on the rain, and the other half on the near-empty bottle of alcohol that burned his throat every time he drank it. He hit the gas pedal, making water splash up from puddles behind him. His face felt wet, but he wasn't crying. Why was his face wet? Why couldn't he see straight?

He knew he was being reckless. He knew that he was putting himself and others in danger by getting behind the wheel all boozed up. The alcohol was drowning his near silent voice of reason. But he was so angry and frustrated! Besides, no one ever used this road. Nobody would have gotten hurt! An image of Hanzo popped into his brain, chastising him for his actions. Just the thought of him made his blood boil. But what for? For a second, he drifted off into thought, trying to remember how he even got there.

"You are such a child! What are you going to do when I'm not here for you?"

"You're never here for me anyways! You're either drowning yourself in extra work, or off somewhere getting cozy with Jessie! You've never thanked me once for introducing the two of you. How's that for 'ungrateful'?"

"That's not the point. What do you do while I'm gone? The house is a mess! Earlier today, the litter boxes looked like they haven't been cleaned in weeks! You can barely take care of yourself, much less a damn cat."

More screaming. More pushing. Do this, do that! Go to hell, see you there!

Genji grabbed his keys and stormed out of the house. On his way, he picked a bottle at random out of the liquor cabinet and popped it open. He took a long swig right in Hanzo's face, then headed to his car.

"Where do you think you're going?"

"What's it to you?!"

The blaring of a horn and bright, white lights washed over his senses. First, he thought, why is that truck driver on the wrong side of the road?

Then he realized he was the one on the wrong side of the road.

He yelped. The absurdly red front of the semi-truck was feet away from crushing him to dust. He swerved back onto the right side just in time to narrowly miss a head-on collision. It came so close that Genji could smell the odorous fumes. The gargantuan vehicle zoomed past his little car and went on his way. In an instant, it was like nothing had happened at all. He was so unnerved he had to pull over. It took him a moment to process everything.

He nearly died. He could have crashed into that monstrous vehicle, drunk and lost.

Oh, god, what was he doing? Where was he? At that moment he realized he was freezing. Why was his vision blurring every five seconds? He looked up, expecting the dark sheet of the car roof. Instead, he got the relentless pour of rain hitting his face. He was so out of it that he had forgotten to put up the roof.

He felt stupid. What was he thinking? What was the fight even about? Something small, for sure. His last words to his brother could have been nasty and hurtful. That would have been how he remembered him after he died-the stupid little brother who took everything for granted. What would he think as he looked at his dead body? Would they have been silent and respectful, or loud and grieving? How many people would have showed up?What would Jesse think? What would all his friends think? What would Zenyatta think?

He felt like someone had scooped out all of his insides and sown him back up without putting anything back in. His head was pounding hard enough to break his skull. His chest was tight and his entire body was shaking. He felt... he felt...

He keeled over the side of his car, retching violently onto the open road. His chest ached every time he coughed up vomit. He needed to go somewhere. He needed to find someplace to stay for the night. Not back home, he was too proud for that. Not to a motel, since he forgot his wallet. After wiping his mouth and collecting himself, he got back on the road and let his subconsciousness take the wheel. Again, it was completely idiotic of him. But his impulsivity would persevere, even when he was blackout drunk.

He ended up in an old apartment complex with busted windows and ivy crawling up the wall. In an instant, he knew exactly where he was. His legs carried him wobbly through the front doors, as if they had minds of their own. The ground swayed and shifted beneath his feet, threatening to trip him at any moment. He went up the creaky stairs and past the old doors with taped-on numbers. Dogs barked, people shouted, but he didn't care. He got to the end of the hallway and knocked on the door he was most familiar with. A light flicked on, and within the minute, the person he wanted to see the most appeared.

"Hi, Zen."