CHOCOLATES IN MONSOON | HRK

09 | blankets and blood

CHAPTER NINE ;; HARUTO
blankets and blood

If Haruto hadn't known better, he would have thought his parents had been heartless and manipulative.

Might even stretch to toxic and infuriating.

Could be confused and regretful - but that wasn't his lookout. Never had been. 

"Fucking imbeciles ", came a retort as a pair of boxers were stuffed into a backpack. This was it, this was the last straw, he was moving out. His most recent argument with Mr. and Mrs. Watanabe had stretched his tolerance to its utmost limit. He didn't think he could have held on much longer.

He hadn't either.

Another pair of snickers found their way into the now bulging backpack and Haruto slumped into his bed, tired, grumbling and immensely frustrated. The past one hour had been a blur. The more he tried to think about it, the more his head throbbed, making fatigue wash over him. It was foolish to think this lack of energy was an outcome of cancer - arguments with parents rarely counted as mentally refreshing. Let alone illuminating and energizing. Far from that, he felt exhausted.

The boy fell back into his pillows and sighed, closing his eyes. The early morning sun played with his eyelids, making various shapes appear inside them as he went over what he had just done. Or perhaps, in the heat of the moment, said. He had said a lot of things - that was for sure. But he couldn't remember them instantly. Flashes of the fight kept running across his mind and slowly, as the light still played with his vision, the memories came back.

Haruto had woken up early that same morning with an air of cheery enthusiasm and fresh lovesickness . It was going to be three months of him and Junkyu being together soon. The hour counting down to twelve noon which would mark a whole three months since they had interacted in this very room. Since that one special rainy day.

While that meant he had nine more months to live, it also meant a supposed day out with the boy. Who knew - they might even try out new things again. Like they almost always did when they spent time together - making their way down Haruto's seemingly non existent bucket list.

He didn't think he had one. Seeing Junkyu made him want to try out new things. Despite being sexually handicapped due to his godforsaken cancer, they did things far more entertaining than sex.

They went to Art museums. Local rock and roll concerts. Gaming booths. Reading sessions. Light exhibitions. Painting displays. Everything they could think of. It was a fun, lovable and entertaining way of spending his last few days. So why not ?

A smile made its way stealthily across his face and by the time he made his solitary way downstairs, Haruto was a beaming mess. What couldn't they do today - which also happened to be a weekend. Junkyu's school gave off early on Saturdays, he didn't linger enough for the bullies to find him anymore and what was more, he was growing steadily happier and more confident around the older. Junkyu would kiss Haruto on the cheek whenever he wasn't looking at the boy, would force him to go places he would never have dreamt of visiting and would ruffle his hair quite often.

Considering the possibility of visiting the local rock cafe where a band would be playing for the evening, he walked into the living room, appearing extremely cheerful. His father sat at his usual spot at the dining table, fussing over another ridiculously revolting tie of Mrs. Watanabe's while she tried to force it upon him. Mr. Watanabe was fighting a losing battle there and Haruto gladly pointed that out as he sat down for breakfast.

"O you think so do you ? Let me make you wear one of those strawberry printed ties. Come here. Come over here !", pot bellied Mr. Watanabe called from the other end of the table and made to get up and give his son chase when Haruto's mother pushed him back down on the chair and helped fasten the tie. An assortment of little cufflinks and fancy accessories littered the long family table and Haruto distracted himself by looking at them. Those same official papers still lay spread over the wooden surface beside his parent's plates and he noticed a few of them appeared to have signatures and stamps identical to his doctor.