Bruised Knees, Locked Doors
[Scene: Flashback – Aoi’s home. Late at night. Silence hangs thick in the air.]
Aoi sits on his bed in the dark, staring at the letter in his hand — crumpled now, edges torn. His chest is tight. His door creaks open without a knock.
Ankoku Kageko (mother)
(voice low, controlled)
"We found something in your bag."
Ankoku Aoi
(eyes still down)
"You went through my things?"
Ankoku Reiji (father)
(steps into the room)
"Answer your mother."
Aoi finally looks up. His hands tremble. His mother holds the letter like it’s something poisonous.
Ankoku Kageko (mother)
"A love letter, Aoi?
To a boy?"
Ankoku Aoi
(quietly)
"His name is Haruki.
And yes. I loved him."
[The room stills. Her breath catches. His father closes the door behind him.]
Ankoku Reiji (father)
"You are not that kind of boy."
Ankoku Aoi
(voice shaking)
"What kind is that? The kind who feels?
The kind who—who just wants to be loved?"
Ankoku Kageko (mother)
"No. The kind who sins.
The kind who shames us."
Aoi stands. His voice rises for the first time.
Ankoku Aoi
"You don’t even want to understand me.
You want me erased."
Ankoku Reiji (father)
(takes a step forward)
"Lower your voice."
Ankoku Kageko (mother)
(snickers bitterly)
"We raised you to be good. And this is what you become?"
Aoi stares at them. Tears cling to his lashes but never fall.
Ankoku Aoi
(quietly)
"I was good.
Even when it hurt."
[There’s no shouting. No apology. Just silence — the most violent kind. Then the next sound: wheels on tile. A suitcase being dragged to the front door.]
Ankoku Kageko (mother)
"You’ll be going somewhere they can help you.
Somewhere to fix what’s been twisted."
Ankoku Aoi
"You mean somewhere to make me disappear."
Ankoku Reiji (father)
"Enough."
Ankoku Aoi
(stares at them both)
"You know...
you didn’t even ask if I was okay.
You just wanted to scrub me out of your perfect house."
[The front door opens. A van waits. The sky is still dark. Not even the birds are awake.]
Ankoku Aoi
(voice barely above a whisper)
"Don’t forget to water the salvia."
[No response. His parents don’t say goodbye. The van door closes. Aoi presses his forehead to the window as the house disappears behind him.]
> That was the last time I saw them.
Not dead. Not gone. Just... done with me.
[Scene Transition – Evergreen Mental Health Center, Present Day]
Aoi wakes up in his shared room. The light from the window hits the wall. His chest feels heavy. Kaze is humming something off-key while drawing in a notebook on the floor.
Kurohiko Kaze
(not looking up)
"You dream loud."
Ankoku Aoi
(sits up slowly)
"Sorry..."
Kurohiko Kaze
(tilts his head, half-grinning)
"Didn’t say it was bad.
Just loud."
Ankoku Aoi
(mutters)
"It wasn’t a dream."
Kurohiko Kaze
(stops drawing)
"...Yeah.
Figured."
Aoi rubs his face with both hands. He looks so small in the morning light — like a ghost wearing a boy’s skin.
Kurohiko Kaze
(sits up, stretching)
"You hungry?
They serve toast that tastes like wet cardboard.
Real luxury."
Ankoku Aoi
(soft laugh, then stops himself)
"You always talk this much in the morning?"
Kurohiko Kaze
"Only when I feel like the silence is trying to eat you."
Aoi glances at him. There’s no judgment in Kaze’s voice. No pity. Just presence.
Kurohiko Kaze
"You don’t have to tell me anything, you know.
But if you ever want to...
I’ll shut up and listen."
Ankoku Aoi
(turns toward the window, eyes stinging)
"They never even asked if I was hurting."
Kurohiko Kaze
(sits beside him on the bed, quiet)
"That’s the thing about people like us.
We don’t break when we’re hated.
We break when we’re ignored."
The two sit in silence for a moment. Not heavy. Not awkward. Just... breathing.
Kurohiko Kaze
(grinning again)
"C’mon. Get dressed. Group therapy starts in ten.
I need a wingman when I argue with the therapist."
Ankoku Aoi
(flatly)
"You argue with your therapist?"
Kurohiko Kaze
"Every day. It’s the only joy I have in this place."
Aoi smiles. Just barely. But it’s there.
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