Not My Type

十 二

[A\N]: Just in case, a trigger warning for those who have a bad relationship with their parents/those who have been abused mentally/physically.

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 "We fought over something."

 "[Name] forgot about me."

Akane blinked once. Twice. He wasn't sure whose words to believe. Mizu turned to [Name], teeth gritted and fists clenched. If his eyes weren't fooling him, Akane would say that Mizu was in pain. Meanwhile, [Name] had her eyes closed in thought, oblivious to the fact that the friend she was searching for was standing beside her.

 "You left me." Mizu choked out. "You turned your back on me, even while I was struggling to breathe!"

 "Err..." the bespectacled boy could only trail off. "Would you mind telling me what you know?"

[Name] put a finger to her lips. "Sure, I don't mind. Let's start with how we met."

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Four-year-old [Name] [Surname] froze in her spot, staring at the remnants of her mother's favorite vase. Her heart plummeted to her stomach and it took all of her willpower not to scream there and then. Memories of how her mother would always talk to her about the vase flashed through her mind.

 "[Name], what was that—goodness!" As if on cue, [Mother's Name] entered the room. She held a hand to her chest, staring at the glass shards that littered the floor. "What have you done?!"

Tears filled the child's eyes as her throat tightened. Any attempt at replying ended up in a failure. [Name]'s lack of answer only fueled her mother's anger. The woman ruffled her long [hair color] hair, walking back and forth while shaking her head. On the other hand, [Name] remained in her position—hands clasped, body trembling.

 "Do you not have anything to say?!" her mother shouted. "I didn't teach you to be so rude, [Name]!"

Flinching, [Name] shook her head. Her wails only increased in volume, which made [Mother's Name] surprised. She heaved a sigh of exasperation, not being able to do anything but stare at her child.

 "[Nickname]? [Mother's Name]? What happened?" [Father's Name] stood by the doorway with wide eyes. [Name] couldn't bring herself to look at him. The confusion etched on his face disappeared as soon as he laid his eyes on the broken vase. "Oh." The indifference in his tone made [Mother's Name] turn her attention to him.

 "Is that all that you have to say? Oh? Mother gave me that vase! You of all people should know how much that means to me!" [Mother's Name] fists were clenched. Her husband only cast her a glance before approaching their only child. "Dear! Do you really not have anything to say? Even you can't tell me that you're not upset over this! This was a sign of their blessing on our marriage!"

[Father's Name] picked up [Name] from the floor and proceeded to rub circles onto her back. "Well, it would be a lie to say that I'm not even a bit upset. Still, how could you yell at the child like this? You didn't even let her explain what's happened." [Name] pulled back to face her father, eyes puffy and cheeks stained with tears. "Can you speak right now, sweetie? Don't worry, papa's not angry."

 "I-I, a cat entered through the w-window..." she pointed at the open window near the cabinet. "...then it started p-playing with the vase and w-when I tried to get it to leave, i-it dro-dropped the vase on the floor!"

[Mother's Name] rested her palm against her forehead. "[Name], how many times did I tell you to keep the window closed?" The tone of her voice was enough to make [Name]'s tears resurface.

 "I-I'm sorry, mama!"

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All because of a vase? That's just overreacting.

Akane silenced his thoughts and asked, "So your mother forgave you?"

 "What she said and what she did were two different things. It was obvious that she was still hung up over it." [Name] scratched the back of her head, heaving a sigh. "Anyway..."

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 "Mama, mama!" [Name], who was carrying a [favorite color] ball, ran to her mother who was watering the plants in their garden. The woman merely cast her a glance before returning her attention to the plants.

Seeing her lack of attention made [Name] gradually slow down until she was only walking hesitantly towards her mother. Her grip on the ball tightened and now, she wasn't too sure if she wanted to play with her mother. [Father's Name] had gone out to visit her grandparents, leaving [Name] alone with [Mother's Name].

After a few moments of pondering her next actions, [Name] smiled the brightest smile she could muster and called for her mother once again. "Mama, play with me! Papa went out to visit grandma and grandpa so..." The glare directed at her caused [Name] to be at a loss for words. She could only bite the bottom of her lip as her mother brushed her off with a click of her tongue.

In spite of the tears in her eyes that sought for release, [Name] returned to her room quietly. She wiped her eyes with the sleeve of her shirt to remove all traces of her sadness. If her father saw her in her current state, he would surely notice that something was wrong; however, [Name] didn't want him to notice her.

Wouldn't he just get angry at her mama if he found out what happened?

 "I don't want mama to get angry at me too."

Underneath [Name]'s bed was a box of art supplies her mother gave her for her fourth birthday. She pulled it out and found herself mesmerized at the assorted, colorful supplies that filled the box. Color pencils, markers, watercolor—her mother basically gave her a treasure box. Although [Name] preferred to play than draw, a single idea was what pushed her to start art.

Maybe, just maybe, if she gave her mama an amazing drawing, would she smile at her again?

Even as [Father's Name] returned, [Name] spent the rest of the day in her room. Balls of crumpled paper surrounded her while she worked on the perfect present for her mother. After a week of drawing, crumpling, and drawing again, [Name] finally finished her masterpiece. Now, all that was left was for her to find the right timing to give it to [Mother's Name].

The storm brewing outside prevented anyone from leaving the house. [Father's Name] watched television, [Mother's Name] focused on crocheting, and [Name] played with her ball. All of them were in the living room. [Name] occasionally sneaked a few glances at her mother, waiting to see if it was a good time for her to present her gift.

 "You aren't drawing today, [Nickname]?" Her father's question had caught [Name] off guard.

Rubbing the back of her neck, the child could only chuckle nervously. "No, papa. I've already finished what I wanted to do."

[Mother's Name] lowered her crochet and raised an eyebrow at [Name]. "To strive after something better than what you're satisfied with is what will lead you to be great, [Name]. Don't be so lazy."

Both [Father's Name] and [Name] were surprised at her comment.

 "Dear, what was that about—"

 "—Just why are you so mad at me, mama?! I already said I was sorry, didn't I?! I don't even want to draw! But I did! I wanted to give you a gift so you would play with me again!" [Name] took out the folded paper inside her short pocket. "I hate you!" The paper with a drawing of a mother carrying her daughter was ripped into two.

And with that, [Name] left their house.