Awa'altu High: ATWOW highschool au!!

Rotxo

Rotxo had gone to visit his grandmother that night. He hated hospitals because of the memories. He hated his grandmother's nursing home because it somehow housed all of the worst parts of hospitals; the smell, the overworked nurses, the flickering lights. When his mother died, and his dad left, his grandmother had gotten custody of him. He was happy with this, as happy as he could be. His grandmother was a tiny lady with long hair of pure silver. She smelled like oranges and always wore purple nail polish. Rotxo stopped by a grocery store on the way over and got her a new shade, a pale lilac color. She probably had about 10 that were similar, but he knew she wouldn't notice. He was let in immediately by the home workers. They all knew him by name. They always smiled at him, asked him how he was doing in school. Lately, their smiles had saddened. Rotxo knew why, even though he refused to acknowledge it. He knew the home like the back of his hand. He wore earplugs and tried not to inhale the smell. He hated it here. He hated all of it. He hated that, after all these years, it still haunted him in this way. All it took was one step in the hallway, and he was a little kid again, terrified, wondering why another person who raised him was staying in a place like this. Wondering how long it would take before he was shuffled to another distant relative.

He opened the door to her room quietly, not wanting to alarm her. The room was dimly lit by a small lamp on her bedside table. He knew she wouldn't recognize him. Her memory was getting steadily worse as the years passed. Still, he went to her side and kissed her forehead.

She was asleep when he knelt beside her. "Hi, Tutu," he whispered, gently rubbing her scalp with his fingers. She opened her eyes, blinking up at him. "Hello, handsome boy," she whispered, voice soft. He smiled weakly. She probably thought he was a nurse. She usually did. "I have a gift for you, Tutu," he said gently. He pulled the small bottle of nail polish out of his bag. "Oh, my favorite," she murmured, smiling. She pulled her hands out from under the covers. Her nails were unpainted. Rotxo winced. He had been avoiding coming because she was having some sort of a procedure done these past few weeks. The hospital never told him specifically, per his request. It freaked him out too bad to know. It had been quite a long time since he had seen her. He took her left hand in both of his and began gently massaging her knuckles and joints. "I started my senior year," Rotxo murmured. "Swim starts next week. I made a new friend, too. She's really lovely." His grandmother had been gazing at him with warm eyes, unmoving. She perked up at the word "her". "Who is this friend?" she asked, eyes sparkling with the same glow they always had. He grinned. "Her name is Kiri." His grandmother sighed happily. "She is a very pretty girl. She has light brown hair that looks ginger in the sunlight. And her eyes are hazel, green around the pupil. In a ring." He smiled to himself. "She has freckles on her nose and she wears lots of necklaces." He reached for his grandmother's other hand and began rubbing her joints absentmindedly. "She and her family moved here from Egypt in July." She gasped softly. "Egypt? That's very far, isn't it?" he nodded. "She speaks Arabic to her mother and they have a cat named Grace. And she has two brothers and one little sister. They are all so just- being around them feels right. They clicked with me and Reya and Ao'nung instantly." He grabbed a pillow off the end of the bed and laid her hands on it, reaching for the nail polish. "How are those two? Will you tell them I miss them?" Rotxo blinked tears out of his eyes. She remembered them. She really did. "Yes, Tutu, I will. They will come visit soon. They're great. Ao'nung has that big surf meet he wouldn't shut up about last time coming up at the end of the month. I'll video it for you." he swallowed the lump in his throat. "I'll put it up on your TV and we can watch it like we are at the theater." He was halfway done with her left hand. "That sounds lovely, Rotiki," she whispered. He rubbed his eyes discreetly with the back of his hands. That had been her nickname for him as a child. He didn't know she still knew it. Maybe she was getting better. Maybe soon they could go back to her house, and he could stop sleeping at Ao'nung's.

Her left hand was done. She was watching him work on her right, a soft smile on her lips. "You're all grown up, child," she said gently. She stroked his cheek with her thumb. He grinned. "So are you, Tutu." She laughed loudly. Rotxo flinched, nearly messing up her pointer finger. He suddenly felt sick to his stomach. Her laugh was identical to his mother's. He hadn't heard it from either of them in so long. He felt a cold sweat break out along his back. His hands began to shake. "One sec," he muttered, struggling to close the nail polish bottle with shaking fingers. He hurriedly stepped into the hallway, bracing himself on the wall across from her door. Rotxo was suddenly reminded precisely why he was so terrified to visit his grandmother. He took six deep breaths, blinking the tears out of his eyes. After about three minutes, he had calmed himself down. He counted to ten and reentered the room, a smile plastered on his face. "Hello," she said, voice happy. He knelt on the ground and began finishing her right hand. "Guess who was just here?" He felt his chest go hollow. "Who?" "Your baby boy," she said brightly. Rotxo blinked. "I- I'm sorry?" "Your baby boy, Maeva. He was just here, all grown up. An adult. Said he was graduating soon, can you believe it?" Rotxo was silent.

When he was younger, he had hair like Ao'nung's- long and curly, hanging down his back. However, when his face began to mature, he was constantly told how much he resembled his mother when she was his age. This hadn't bothered him, until one night, when it was just him and his grandmother, years after his mother had passed, she called him Maeva - his mom's name. She began brushing his hair and singing softly to him. She had asked him about his father, about the wedding. He still remembered what she said - "Your husband will think my girl is the most beautiful he has ever seen - beautiful enough to command the sun to rise and tell the stars to twinkle." Rotxo had realized with a chill that, with her memory fading, had thought he was Maeva Waititi, her daughter, and that Maeva was going to be married soon. She had forgotten she had died, forgotten what Rotxo's father had really been like. The day after this, he shaved his hair off. He donated it to the hospital and swore to never, ever have hair like that again. Hearing his grandmother's words had been too painful. Now, he sat, hair short, fully matured. He still looked like his Mama. "Maeva?" she asked quietly, looking at Rotxo curiously. He didn't know what to do. The air felt thick and hot in his lungs, almost angry. He felt his vision begin to recede. He got to his feet shakily, spilling purple nail polish all over his hands. "Yes, mama," he muttered, kissing her on the cheek and leaving as fast as he could.

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he is so inside out by duster i want to cry.

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tutu is a polynesian word for grandmother according to google