❝ you will 𝙖𝙡𝙬𝙖𝙮𝙨 have a special place in my heart, and that terrifies me. ❞
Kohana Akaashi is your basic chip off the block stubborn asshole. Abides by her own rules, doesn't take shit and doesn't do anything she doesn't have to. Keeping fri...
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In mid January, Katsu's grandfather passed. At the funeral he was quiet and didn't say much. As we waited for the incense to go out, I couldn't do much. I felt so weak sitting beside him in the dark, paying my respects to the old man who I didn't know that well. But even if I didn't know him, he was Katsu's everything. The last remaining member of his family. I wanted to reach over, tell him everything was going to be okay. Lying... giving false promises... that was a load of horse shit. I couldn't do that.
Katsu's face was stone as he stared at the picture of his smiling grandfather. Eyes closed and face littered with wrinkles. He looked happy. Strangely, a lot like Katsu too. Though there were no tears running down his cheeks. The expected rawness to his face wasn't there either. It worried me. The lack of emotion coming from him struck a cord deep within me.
When it was time to leave, he didn't say much of anything else besides a thank you and a low bow. He stood by the door, thanking each person as they left. Leaving him alone in the large house, his grandfather turned to a pile of ashes. It hurt me. So much.
As it was Kenji and my turn to leave, I didn't say anything to him. I wasn't sure what I was to say in this circumstance. There wasn't anything to say that could make it better. So I only gave him a firm squeeze on the upper arm. Letting him know I was here for him. If he needed me.
Later that night I laid on the couch in the living room, still wearing the black pantsuit from the funeral. My feet were kicked up on the opposite arm of the couch, head propped up on a mismatched pillow we picked up years ago.
"What are you thinking about?" Asked my old man, settling onto the ground beside the coffee table. He leaned his back against the couch near my feet, propping one of his legs up to rest his elbow on. A freshly cracked open beer was in his hand, and he sipped at it, staring off into space. I didn't answer, prompting him to look in my direction and wordlessly repeat the question with a raised brow.
I let out a deep sigh, turning my head to the side. Staring at the fibers in the couch for a moment, I sifted through my thoughts. Painfully aware of Kenji's stare too.
"I feel bad."
"About Ichiro-sans death?" He hummed in thought, thinking about the logic behind my words, before nodding his head. "That makes sense. You didn't know him well, but death still makes everyone feel a certain way."
"Not just that." I sighed again, placing my hand against my face. Squeezing my eyes shut, I let out a low groan, trying to make sense of the numbing sense in my chest and head that was making it different to form any thought at all. "I want to... I don't know... he just... ugh—!"
