Marked (BokuAka)

13. Breakfast

Trigger warning: There is some mention of disordered eating in this chapter.

Bokuto's POV:

"He's going to hate me " Curled up in a fetal position, Bokuto rocked back and forth. The hard, wooden floor hurt his behind, but the burning of his disordered breathing, and the pain from each heartbeat, overcame the former's discomfort. "Oh, no. He is going to hate me."

How can I fix this? Will I ever be able to? I mean, it's partially my fault! I convinced him to get her to meet up. If anything, her death and his soulmate-less-ness are all my fault. Wait, maybe a joke? Will that be too insensitive? But, I like telling jokes to lighten the mood. It sometimes helps me. Will it help Washio? I've never lost someone, so I wouldn't know.

"Koutarou!" His mother called, her voice echoing through the house. Bokuto sighed, wishing he didn't have to see what his mother wanted.

"Coming," Bokuto said, pausing to wash his puffy red face. Ugh, she's going to know. Just a little more cold water, maybe. Say I stubbed my toe if she asks about the eyes. Or I can say I got some deodorant in them.

"KOUTAROU!" His father shouted, sending a jolt of fear through Bokuto. He dug his nails into his open palm.

"I said I was coming!" He shouted back, shaking away the icky feeling of pure, paralyzing terror.

As Bokuto bounced down the stairs, the movement forced more tears from his eyes, but he quickly wiped them away.

"Koutarou. Finally. I- what's wrong?" His mother asked, her gaze yanked away from her phone. She sighed. "What happened now? Did you lose something? You miss a spike?" Her voice was mocking, something Bokuto didn't miss but refused to pick at.

"No, I-..." He paused, contemplating his response.

Is it really a good idea to tell her?

Yes, maybe this time it'll be different. This time, I'm sure she'll care. Besides, I don't wanna lie to her. "A girl at my school died. The soulmate of my friend. He... he is really sad." Bokuto looked up from his hands and studied the understanding look on his mother's face. I was right. She is different this time.

"I see. And you knew this girl." She nodded, patting Bokuto's hand. The contact forced more tears to spring to Bokuto's exhausted dry eyes.

But Bokuto still had to clear up his mother's statement. "Well, no. I-" Sniffle. "I didn't know her. But Washio is really sad and it's all because of me!" Rapid-fire, Bokuto shot the reasons out of his mouth.

"It's not your fault. If anything, you should be comforting Washio. You are being selfish, as usual, by not being there for him!" His mother scolded him before enfolding him in a hug. "Is there any other reason?"

Bokuto opened and closed his mouth. "The police took me in for questioning on her murder."

"Mm-hm. I know. How'd it go?"

"But, mom, you don't understand. I saw her body. It was the worst..." He gagged, "The worst thing I've ever seen. I couldn't sleep last night, momma. The nightmares were so bad."

His mother shook her head, the movement shaking Bokuto's head with it. "Look, love. You just need to forget about it. Let's head to bed earlier and try relaxing more. That'll fix it." Slowly Bokuto relaxed into her tight and reassuring grip, his snotty, crying face dampening her shoulder. "I think I've—hic—gotten your shirt wet." He giggled, continuing to cry wet, salty tears. But as he relaxed, listening to his mother's heartbeat, the crying began to subside.

"What's happening in here?" And all of his relaxing left as Bokuto sprung back up to his feet, glancing at his father. "Tsk, Bokuto. What in the world?"

His mother explained to him about Bokuto's problems, and his father rolled his eyes. "Bokuto, honestly. You need to be more resilient." He cracked his fingers, resting on a chair beside Bokuto, "You'll never be a professional volleyball player with that attitude. Just breathe. You don't need to get so panicked over things like that. You aren't going to go anywhere in life if you don't man up. Go to school. Talk to Washio. If he isn't there, go to his house. Easily fixed. You just need to think, for once." His father stood, walking away before pausing. "And I mean it, Koutarou. Don't bother us with trivial things. We worry you know. And besides, it's just annoying."

His mother waited until he left. "Eat, love. You need to be well-fed for practice." But his father's words ran rampant through his mind until an idea hit him like a train.

Well, he wants me to be resilient. And I have to be resilient for him to really love me. Also, he always pays more attention to me when I am in shape. So, what's more resilient, more reliant on self-control and independence, than not eating? And then, I will be in shape! He has been mentioning my eating too much, and this'll strengthen my willpower. Now, he will be proud of me. As mom always says, 'A minute on the lips, forever on the hips'. I already don't eat breakfast, so what if I cut lunch too? Will that be better? He did compliment me yesterday on losing weight.

"Don't worry, mum. I'm not hungry. I ate a huge meal yesterday." He grabbed the blue, owl polka-dot lunch bag before kissing his mother a small farewell, "I love you!"

He grabbed his lunch bag and school bag before rushing out the door. "Bye, dad!" And he headed on the long walk to school.