Hideyuki Hashimoto - a petal

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"Why are you not taking care of him?"

"Why are you talking like he's not a part of your responsibility?"

The two had paced all over the cramped space, trying to sort out each other's feelings. Anger, frustration, tiredness, everything was bottled up; all the grudges they had to the extent where at one point they would explode. And they did.

More yelling. The coffee had spilled, onto the table and onto the floor, staining the white tablecloth. Minghao sat in the corner of the room on his chair; it was his and his only. Nobody could sit there but him. When he sat in the corner, it was like he was in his own world. Sometimes he'd imagine himself zooming up to the sky in a rocket, sometimes he'd imagine driving a car with thw windows wide open, feeling the sea breeze. Imagining all the things he'd do with his family that would never happen.

Today, he had imagined a glass box covering his corner, immune towards all the yelling, the crying, the sadness. Minghao was immune towards all of those that way, witnessing only his parent's mouth moving but no sound. No worries at all, for his glass box was soundproof.

If only his father hadn't got up towards his direction and dragged him out of the box; Minghao whining as he pictured his quiet, glass box shattering to pieces. His only hideaway was now gone.

"I'm taking this child with me." His father had said, the grip on Minghao's frail shoulder was firm and painful, but he didn't resist. It was better not to. He was just a child after all.

"Are you joking? You've never cared about that boy and now you want him under your care? What  kind of shit are you spouting?" His mother had yelled back, pulling on Minghao's other arm. Somehow, he felt like he had become one of thsoe dolls where two girls fight over; both hands being grabbed as he was pulled onto both sides, and his only wish at that moment was that his body could rip in half and regenerate just like a starfish, because there would be two Minghaos.

And if there were two Minghaos, then maybe his parents would stop fighting and be happy. One would grow up the way his father wanted, and the other for his mother.

"It hurts," Minghao whines softly, looking up at both his parents, who were not planning on letting him go.

"I'll show you I'll take care of him much better than you do." Minghao's father bragged. His mother laughed, returning to the stern look she had on her face.

"Much better? You don't even have  time, for god's sake! What do you mean you want him under your care?" His mother shouted, letting the boy's arm go. Minghao tries to scratch his pained arm with his other, but his father wasn't planning on letting him go.

"Fine, why don't we let the child choose." Now he lets go of his arm, Minghao imagining the red marks on his skin right after. He couldn't actually quite grasp what his parents were fighting over. What did he have go choose? Was it toys? Or maybe hand paints? He loves hand paints.

His mother had squatted down to match his height, flashing him one of her sweetest smiles, "Minghao dear, do you want to follow mama or papa?"

"Where's papa going?" Little Minghao asks, clueless towards all that was being debated.

"If you follow papa, you will go live overseas." His mother told him "while I will just stay here, in our house, home sweet home."

Minghao had thought for a while, comparing which decision was better. It was simple, really. He could only think of what might happen in he leaves the house. The place he had grew up in. All the scribbles on the walls that he had made, the ceiling of his room which was painted into a galaxy, all his short poems that his mother and him had read together.

His father gave him a disapproving look, turning towards his wife.

"He can't do it. He's a child. Minghao, go pack your things. Papa will wait for you in front of the house." His father looked at his wristwatch, flipping his phone out as he scrolled down the screen.

"No, papa, Minghao will stay here."

Both parents raised their eyebrows at the young child's words.

"Minghao will stay with mama. Mama loves reading books and writing, but papa doesn't let Minghao write stories. Minghao will stay with mama here." The child smiles at his mother, who was nothing but wide eyed at his response. Minghao couldn't remember then whether his mother's wide eyes were a look of shock or pure disappointment at his decision.

Minghao's father put his phone back inside his pocket, fixing the cuff of his shirt , "Very well."

The door slammed behind him as he left. Minghao quickly rushed to his mother's side. He saw the tears in her eyes. He remembered trying to reach out to wipe them away, but his mother had slapped his hand away. He remembered the reddish pain that was stained on the back of his hand.

"Mama, aren't you happy I'm with you?"

"You stupid child," she spat, her shoulders shaking with anger. She had turned away from him, covering her face with her hands "you should have followed your father."

"But mama, papa doesn't let me write stories-"

"Mama hates writing stories! You're such a damn burden, you child! You should've left! You shouldn't have existed in the world!"

The words had hit small Minghao with a pang. No, to him, it felt like someone had shot an arrow right through his chest, just like a character he had read in a book. He remembers the pain being slow but it was getting painful and more painful. It was definitely killing him slowly, but he showed no intention to die.

Minghao had grasped himself to talk.

"Mama, I really love you mama, I'm here for you. If papa isn't here then I am, I'll be a good boy and read lots and lots of stories-"

A glass vase had landed right next to him , unable to finish his sentence from the shock. One of the glass pieces had hurt his toes, blood seeping out from the small cut. It hurts. Just like his heart.

Minghao stared at his mother's hunched back, turned against him. What was the expression on her face? Was she crying? Was she angry?

Did he say something wrong? Why was mama so angry?

"I don't need another burden on my shoulders, so shut up." His mother mumbled, but Minghao's ears caught every word.

"Useless child, wouldn't it be better if you were mute?"

Thus, Minghao was.

Minghao knew what his mother wanted. He couldn't be a burden to his mother. He didn't want to.

He never spoke again.

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The scene that i had pictured in my head broke my heart so bad but i couldnt express it as good so sed disappointment indeed

Its jun's birthday bdjakwndbsjjw also the day i discovered seventeen cRies so many memories

Man in the moon has been haunting me and so is cages but i cant do it bsbejsjjejs i ugh

Kk everyone pls take yo meals properly have a nice day  ♡

- Cee