365 Days || Iwaoi

Day 17

"Oikawa-san, have you gone to his mom's house yet? There's a box in his room with your name on it."

I looked at Tobio, surprise evident on my face. No, I hadn't gone back to Hajime's childhood home. I refused to, for several reasons, always hiding behind the excuse that his mom must hate me for what I said at the funeral. She's yet to forgive me, of that I'm certain, so it's not like it was much of a reach.

"There is?"

"Yes, and his mom won't let anyone touch it. She said it's meant for you, so your hands must be the only ones to touch it," Shoyo interjected. "We could go with you, if you like."

I would love to have company when I go, I know that I won't be strong enough on my own, I know that I will break down the second I am alone.

I know all of this, but I also know that it has to be done. I can't take anyone with me.

If that box is only to be touched by my hands, then mine must be the only hands to knock on that bright red door. I must be the only person to retrieve the box.

I stood up and saw the other two out of my and Hajime's apartment before slipping on my own shoes.

I didn't bother to text or call. I just hopped on the train to Miyagi and left. I would arrive around 4pm, and I would probably ask to stay at Makki and Mattsun's place. I know that if I went to my own childhood home without Hajime, I would certainly break.

The train is cold.

The train is cold, and I am alone, and the kid in the seat next to me snores too loudly.

The train is cold, but the rain pouring in Miyagi is colder. The rain is cold, but the doorstep on which I stand feels like ice, seeping through my bones.

I knock on the door, in the same pattern we had always used for each other, the ones that our parents knew like the tops of our heads.

Your mom is sad. She's gorgeous, as she always has been, but she's so fucking sad, Hajime. You were her world, and now you're gone. I wouldn't be surprised if she blames me. I know I do.

I barely register the feeling of her arms around my middle. She's always been on the short side, but today she feels farther away than ever before. She grabs my hand, she makes me my favourite tea, she tells me that she's so glad I've finally come home.

Home.

That word is so foreign to me. Where is my home? What is it? Is it volleyball, like I told you years ago?

No. Volleyball is nothing but a distraction, a pastime.

My home is my Iwa-chan.

My home is my Iwa-chan, but now I've been orphaned, evicted, abandoned.

Her hug is warm. The tea your mom prepared for me is warm.

It's cold in Tokyo, but your room feels as though my skin has been set on fire. A supernova holds nothing to the warmth I felt the second I opened the food, the one that still had that old, battered Godzilla poster on it.

My home had been stolen from me, but walking into your room was enough to engulf me in the you I recognized, the you that you abandoned because you "needed to grow up."

Iwa-chan, what was the point in forcing yourself to grow up so quickly? Is that part of what took you from me?

The box is covered in gift wrap.

The box is covered in gift wrap, my favourite wrapping pattern. It held the constellations that always looked best in your eyes. It's not heavy, but it's not light. It's much smaller than I thought.

"Tooru, love, you can take anything that helps."

The words rattled in my mind, I heard them so distantly, but I nodded still.

I left with the box. I left with the box and your Seijoh uniform and your Godzilla plush, the one I got you for graduation, the one that you threw at my head when I embarrassed you in a tipsy game of truth or dare played with Mattsun and Makki.

I left with those three things, desperate to take more and hold onto everything I ever knew of you, but with the overwhelming feeling of guilt for taking the things I did.

Everyone else needed to remember too.