Scattered light

Ragdoll

And I don't wanna fall to pieces
I just wanna sit and stare at you
I don't wanna talk about it
And I don't want a conversation
I just wanna cry in front of you
I don't wanna talk about it
'Cause I'm in love with you

- Avril Lavigne

Chapter Text

The last time I rode the train was under much better circumstances. It was on the way home from meeting with Hinata's mother, a strange heaviness in my heart after leaving Uncle Ittetsu's house, he and Natsu waving from the window of the truck when they dropped us off at the station. It was stupid, I mean that place wasn't my home town, but it was a place I felt welcome, which I found were diminishing my small world.

It was quiet at first, playing different card games with Hinata at the small train booth table, but my heart wasn't in it. It wasn't until he started to tell me stories from his childhood that I perked up, not understanding then that even though it was probably hard for him he must have realized something was upsetting me and wanted to help. I wonder how many times he sacrificed his own feelings to make me happy, because he loves me. I'm still trying to let that fact sink in.

He told me about the town before his mother left, before everything went to shit. He told me about his first day of kindergarten and how scared he was to go, thinking that his teacher would turn out to be some horrible scaly monster that would lock him to his desk until he learned how to read. She turned out to be a very sweet lady but he cried anyway, begging his mother not to leave him there. Instead of staying with him, she walked outside, picking a flower from the planter by the door and sticking it in his jacket pocket. It was a tiny sunflower, he said, and she kissed it, telling him that her kiss would stay in that flower all day and keep him strong until it was time to go home. He had kept that flower pressed between two books in his room, but it had been lost during the move to Uncle Ittetsu's house.

He told me about the trips to The Crow's Nest every Sunday, when Yachi was just starting to work there. Apparently Yachi was not always the wonderful chef I was lucky enough to meet, and it took months for her to learn the simplest recipes. Nevertheless, the Hinata family showed up every Sunday and ordered an entire apple pie, waiting as the tiny flustered girl tried with all her might to do her best. They were awful at first, mushy apples or burned crust, sometimes crust that was both raw and burned at the same time, which must have taken an incredible talent. Every week they got better, and slowly Yachi perfected that pie, and it became the diner's star dish.

He told me about the tree house his dad built and his mom tore down when he fell out of it and broke his arm. About the nightmares he'd have during thunderstorms and the only thing that would put him to sleep was his mom's soft singing. How excited they all had been when it was announced he was going to have a sibling.

That ride had been so warm, so full of bittersweet feelings with the air of hope between us. That was a tone I wanted to set for all of our time together; just the two of us talking, bonding and growing close, a different form of intimacy that I craved with an intensity I wasn't aware of.

That day was so different from this one, with my head pressed against the train window, the glass rattling against my skull and drilling every bad thought I've had in the last few hours deeper in my mind. Not to mention that my destination is literally hell itself.

Maybe it wouldn't be so bad if the trip wasn't so damn long, giving me time to dwell on everything. I'd rather just get this done with instead of waiting and thinking or feeling in general. I wish I could turn my emotions off for a while. Becoming a heartless drone would lessen everything I'm heading towards.

And on top of all of that there's the guilt, because, after all, the reason mom called, the reason I'm in this mess at all, is because dad is sick. Worrying about my petty feelings is so childish in the face of everything happening, but they tear me apart anyway.