Hitomi POV.
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I hadn't realized how long it had been until my fingertips started to sting.
I was starting to think that he wouldn't show up tonight, let alone follow me to the park after shift.
Maybe he thought I was going to hurt him or something...? I just wanted to help, I don't think he has anyone right now.
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The bench was cold, the metal was biting through my coat, and it was damp from an earlier mist. But I stayed for a reason.
I kept telling myself he's coming; I kept convincing myself he was.
If he showed up, and I was missing, I feel like that would hurt what little trust he had left in himself, just from what I saw in those eyes.
That maybe he was just desperate for human interaction, someone to connect to them.
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After a moment, I saw a figure walking down the dark dirt path surrounded by shrubbery and trees that were drowned in green.
His silhouette in the moonlight was soft, yet subtle as well.
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I looked up, and I saw him stood there, at the edge of the lamplight, shadow clinging to him like a second skin, he was hesitant to come much closer to me I think.
I...hope I'm not a scary looking person, even if my eyes are flared at the edges, I don't want to be judged for my naturally unfriendly looks.
I smiled at him, just a slight one.
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His eyes met mine, and for a second, then he looked away quickly back towards the floor.
His face was disheveled, and he seemed to be harboring, some deep pain within those eyes.
Then, he took a deep breath and slowly made his way over to the bench I was sat at.
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He stopped just short of the bench, just kind of standing there with his blackened, forgotten eyes.
I just patted the space next to me, signaling for him to sit down.
"It's okay, I don't bite." I said to him.
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No pressure, no expectations, only two humans.
He sat down next to me carefully, watching my every move like a hawk almost.
Like he was afraid of me.
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Why was he scared of me...?
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"I'm sorry," he whispered, eyes down, voice brittle.
The apology wasn't loud, or dramatic or anything. Yet, I could feel that pain that was buried deep within his voice.
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His clothes smelled faintly of mildew; they haven't been washed in anything but rain and river water.
He couldn't look at me. Not fully, his eyes looked down towards the dirt-stained concrete the entire time.
"I don't know how to do this." He said, softly trying to mask his voice.
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"Do what?" I asked, my tone matching his, being careful to not scare him or anything.
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"I'm not...great at speaking, I haven't talked in months." He said softly. almost like he was talking to himself.
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Months...? Why...?
"Are you...okay...?" I asked, but I think I already know the answer.
"I'm fine."
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A lie.
I can tell.
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Those eyes, those aren't lying to me. Not when you're one step away from breaking completely.
I was just some random person to him, someone who I'd make eye contact with once in a while for a few months.
Why am I reaching out to him so desperately...?
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"I'm sorry..." He said, with his voice crumbling underneath him. I heard a slight sob underneath that fixation of his.
"I think it's easier to speak to a stranger, rather than someone you've known you're entire life." I said back to him after a moment.
"A deep pain can't be satiated with anything other than time, it craves it."
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Turned his head away, jaw clenched.
"I'm... sorry I yelled at you." He said after a moment, with that same voice covered in tears.
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His voice was hoarse, and empty.
"It's okay, I promise I didn't take offense, that's why I'm still here you know."
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He looked up slightly towards me, then back down. HIs hoodie was pulled up to cover his ears which I'm sure were red from the cold.
"You scared me," he continued. "I didn't want you, especially you, to look at me or even see me. I'm a monster, aren't I?
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His voice trembled, from fear.
"I get it, at least somewhat, but why wouldn't you want me to see you, or other people to see you...?"
He turned slightly, eyes flicking toward me with something like disbelief.
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"Look at me, I'm a monster. Someone like you, who I..."
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"I'm sorry, I...I can't do this..." He said, prompting his body to get up and leave.
I hurriedly grabbed his sleeve with one hand.
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He looked scared for a second, and he flinched.
Has he...been beaten...?
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Is he scared of women...?
It wasn't accusatory, just genuinely curious.
We looked at each other for a moment, and our eyes met. Just like they did every day for months, I looked into those same eyes as he looked into mine.
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That silence that came after felt natural, like we could be comfortable with each other.
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"I'm not going back," he said suddenly. "I...I hate them."
"To who?" I asked, curious to see what made him this way.
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He nodded once. Almost like it hurt to even acknowledge their existence.
Oh. I know now.
"His family."
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"Hey, you don't have to worry about me. I'm not going to bully you or anything. Plus, we are the same age, aren't we...?"
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"I'm seventeen, turning eighteen in a few months..."
His hands were trembling again.
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"I'm nineteen, a second year in college. I'm Hitomi. It's nice to finally meet you." I said, wrapping a scarf around my neck while the moonlight glistened on the both of us.
"...I'm Haruki." He said back to me softly.
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"I...don't know what to do anymore though...I don't have anything, and if I go to the police, they'll bring me back, I think.
HIs eyes blackened for a moment, almost like a switch was hit and his emotions could just phase right through.
If I went back, I think I'd kill myself.
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Eh...?
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No...
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even the thought of something like that was awful.
How much have they hurt you...?
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I had to hold back my surprise, I never thought someone could hold such pain, to be forced like this into thoughts like those.
I couldn't help but hold back my sadness, and surprise.
Why was he like this...? He doesn't have anything, or anyone does he...?
"What about, anyone to stay with? Distant family or something...?
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"I have grandparents, but they're in Hokaido. I haven't spoken to them in years either."
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How awful this was.
A disgusting feeling rose in my chest. Was he left, or just kicked out?
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"Did you leave...on your own terms...?" I asked out loud.
For a moment, he went right back to that deep darkness.
"It was a...mutual decision. They hate me, and I hate them."
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It made me want to scream, wasn't he still in highschool? Or at least supposed to be?
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I was shocked that a family would just allow this to happen to their son.
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"I'm sorry." He said again, apologizing for something that isn't his fault.
Then he got up to leave quickly, like one final time. It felt like if I let him leave, the next time I saw him would be on the news.
I can't let him leave.
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More silence followed, and then...
"You can crash at my place if you want." I said, grabbing his sleeve once again.
My face instantly went red.
Even I was surprised, it kind of just unconsciously slipped out.
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He looked safe enough, I don't think he's a predator or something. He's really small too, almost starving. I don't think he'd survive much longer in solitude.
He blinked. "...What?"
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He was genuinely shocked at my question, and to be honest I was too.
I mean, who would just let some random man into their house like this...?
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I don't know myself.
Yet, it's better than letting someone my age die like this, alone in a ditch before they even graduate highschool.
"Don't you want a shower? And something warm to eat and sleep on?"
"I—"
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"You don't have to say yes." I said, trying not to pressure him.
He looked down for a moment, then looked like he was going to say something.
Then he stopped himself.
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But we know each other now, our lives are intertwined, even on a small scale.
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"I'll ruin everything," he muttered.
"You won't." I replied.
"I always do, even my own family recognized that I'm nothing but trash."
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"I'll show you that's not true. Come on, let's get out of the cold."
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"..." he was silent for a second, so I had to take the initiative.
He wiped his face with that torn sleeve of his.
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Maybe, we need to get some new clothes for him too.
And in that moment, I stood.
I held out my hand towards him, my scarf blowing in the slightly frosty early winter wind.
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He stared at it.
I could see the war behind his eyes. The shaking doubt.
But eventually...
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He took it.
His fingers were ice cold, and dirty.
They were rough.
But they were still alive, and amongst the living.