One-Shots [Boboiboy]

Birthday

"You're always so hard-headed," Tanah murmured, applying alcohol to his sister's gash on her face. "One day it's going to leave a mark."

Petir barely acknowledged the pain stinging from her left cheek. She sat on the kitchen chair, allowing Tanah to clean her wounds and stick the plaster on her face.

This had become a daily routine. The kitchen was silent, with a slim, black bag spilled on the table next to the first aid kit. Bottles of gauze and bandages were all laid out, all nearly used up.

The brunet sighed in exasperation. Once he was done, he returned all the medical supplies to the first aid kit, which was getting low in stock. He would have to purchase new ones later. Closing the lid, his eyes fell on Petir, who was bruised and wounded, with hints of blood soaking through her shirt. Her skin was oily, as if she'd sweated a bucket and it dried in the process.

"Maybe you should take a break from the classes," Tanah suggested. "Or join a group that's within your age range. You're a thirteen-year-old going against adults."

The ravenette shook her head almost instantly, her sheared hair barely moving. She was never one to use words, but she would never relent from any classes of swordfighting. Even if she was on a losing streak, backing down was never an option for her.

It worried Tanah. Both of them were in the same calibre of sports, with her focusing on breakdance to train her flexibility and swordfighting and him lifting weights to get a chance at the school's boxing club, there wasn't enough time for them to actually spend quality time together.

Petir's lips hung ajar, as if she was trying to form words. Tanah followed her gaze to her bedroom, and he gave her a little nudge on the shoulder, indicating that he understood. Without turning, the younger sibling nodded lightly heading to her room after shouldering her training sabres.

Her room door closed gently, and Tanah was left alone in the house again.

* * *

Cahaya was always the first person he would call, but he decided that he would deal with this alone. The weight of taking care of someone else when he was still a teenager was crushing. The minimum amount they received from their abusive adoptive parents overseas was barely sufficient to make ends meet.

Cutting out the cost of the medical supplies, Petir's swordfighting tuition fees, essential bills and the school debts, there's not much he could work with. The best he could do was bite his lip during lunch to save money for Petir's dinner and breakfast for tomorrow.

Still, her birthday was coming up, and he decided that he would always celebrate it with her. But from a financial standpoint, things weren't looking too well. He'd tried to cut off as many costs as he was able to, but he wasn't even able to put together enough money for a simple blueberry cake that Petir loved as a child.

Being underage, he was unable to work. He wasn't about to ask Cahaya for money because the guy had his own problems to deal with—his parents' expectations.

When he was seriously contemplating whether to start crime with his elemental powers, someone else appeared. Someone that gave him hope, and someone that supported him.

It was unexpected. He was sitting on the cold, wooden bench at night, letting the midnight breeze comb his hair, shoulders struggling to release tension on the wooden backrest. The night was serene, but his mind was not. He kept his eyes onto the crescent on the sky, the stars twinkling as if they were blinking.

He kept his legs crossed, in fear of lashing out. There was nothing he was able to do now. Was this promise going down in vain?

He sighed from his nose, crossing his arms as he dealt with his inner demons. Just as his back hunched over, his gaze caught sight of a black jacket and jeans, the stranger's leg crossed as he sat along the public seat. Realizing that he was in someone else's presence, he quickly regained his composure and avoided eye contact.