Anxiety | iwaoi

45

"Aw i'm no stranger! I'm your mommy's dear friend, right? And my name is Trevor. See? Not a stranger."

"..."

"We could play video games?," grin, "and I also have chocolate. And a heater ... it really is cold, you know."

Hajime chews on his chapped bottom lip, "Okay."

Trevor beams at him and grabs his hand.

He's leading Hajime in the train. He's leading him in the hotel. In the lobby. Up the elevator. Into his room. He's Handing Hajime chocolate. Grabbing his T.V remote. Turning up the volume. locking the door. Unbuckling his pants.

—

Hajime is 8 years old when Hana is sitting on her knees, trying to tie a black bow around his collar. He tucks a strand of her hair that  escapes from her bun behind her ear. She glances up at him to smile gratefully, "this. This is going to be good, Hajime."

"How can you know?"

"well I don't . . . but at least we'll have a bed. And food whenever we want. I think that man is quite rich."

"Did she tell you that? Have you seen him before?"

"No. Mother didn't have to tell me. I saw the car he was driving. It's worth millions."

"How can we trust him?"

She finishes tying his bow and stands up. She puts her hands on either of his shoulders and looks down at him. She's grown quite tall, "we can't. I'll protect you. I'm never going to leave you alone. He wants an heir to his company. Nothing else. He didn't even want me but mom told him she won't marry him until He accepts me too." She sighs. He frowns at her,

"Whats an heir?"

A pause.

"You are."

-

Hajime is 10 years old when someone is shouting his name in his sleep. He can't wake up. Why can't he open his eyes? He's back in that hotel room, struggling. He can't wake up he can't—

"Hajime!"

Hajime gasps and sits up in his bed. Sweat lines on his forehead. His shirt is clammy. He shakes his head.

The large chandelier above his head casts shadows on the man sitting in front of him, "are you alright, son?"

"Yeah ...yeah," his voice wavers, "i'm fine."

He hands him a glass of water. Iwaizumi accepts it gratefully and chugs some of it.

"Was it a nightmare?"

"Sure, Mr. Iwaizumi."

"It's been two years, Hajime," he smiles kindly, "you can call me dad."

Hajime doesn't answer and keeps his gaze downwards. His hands keep shaking slightly but continuously. He grips the glass even tighter. 

"You wanted to take my name, did you not?"

"Yes. I don't regret it."