The Pediatrician's Closet

Paranoia

It was a little difficult fitting in some time for Natsume in his tight schedule, which only seemed to get tighter as the virus picked up and he threw himself in full force to prevent any more deaths. But he managed to leave an extra hour early from Dani by mentioning it had something to do with his sister, which was a wild card to play in and of itself. No need to give the gossip more fodder, but since they were going to gossip anyways, might as well use it to his benefit.

It took him a lot longer to drug and buzz two cats than it did with a man's head. Fur was a lot finer than human hair and, well, two cats had a hell of a lot of it. He ended up not doing the best job at it, but he got the desired effect of covering Natsume's entire house with ultra-fine cat fur. It would take him weeks to get it all out, and even years from now he'd be pulling up tuffs of cat fur from the corners and creases of his furniture.

He made sure to leave a card and the key.

'Next time you think about shoving your desires on Ema without her permission, buy a better vacuum.'

Oh yeah. He'd have to secretly sabotage that as well. It was okay. Natsume still used the old vacuum Mom had given him for college. It needed to be replaced anyways.

Though not allergic to cats, even he was sneezing up a storm and fighting to get cat hair off him when he got home and had to shower twice. Dang, this stuff should be labeled as a biohazard.

Because of that, it was pretty late by the time he got out and wandered downstairs for some food. Cat hair had irritated his eyes to the point he was ready to just go to bed and call it quits for the night on seeing. He was still upstairs on the railing when he walked into the opening of fifth floor and saw Ukyo locking what could only be a disheveled Ema onto the couch.

A year ago, Masaomi would have backed off, thinking that Ukyo and Ema were having a moment together. Then he saw the tie on the chair. Ukyo never left his ties out. It was one of his pet peeves. Loose socks on the floor, too sweet breakfasts, and ties left lying around. You'd have to grow up in a house of 13 boys to understand.

But it was the alarmed look on Ema's face that cut the deal for him.

Fire flared up from his gut. Everything narrowed in on the blond head nuzzling into Ema's neck.

"Ukyo—you're not yourself, please—"

"I've had a horrid day, please just give me a moment," he murmured, and the only reason Masaomi caught it was because he was already down the stairs.

You know we've all played on her sympathies.

Ema saw Masaomi long before Ukyo realized someone else was in the room. His hair was mussed, and a second before Masaomi reached him the scent of bourbon reached his nose.

He didn't...

With strength he hadn't used in ages, Masaomi grabbed the back of Ukyo's dress shirt with both hands and hauled him across the room with one heave. Ukyo tried to catch his footing, but stumbled and hit the wall before he could.

"I am done with you all!" he roared. "I swear, you're regressing to damn teenagers!"

"M-Masaomi?" Ukyo gasped, eyes bulging. "I didn't—did I just—"

"Oh, sober now?" Masaomi bared his teeth. "To your room. Get!"

If he hadn't been so angry, Masaomi might have had a hard time not laughing as Ukyo's limbs turned to flailing spider's legs in a frantic attempt to obey. When he didn't move fast enough, Masaomi growled, heaved Ukyo up by the back of his shirt, and kicked him towards the stairs. Only once he couldn't see him anymore did he turn to Ema.

She had her legs pulled in close, her arms clutched to her chest, and her face bright, bright red.

Instantly, he backtracked, anger being replaced by horror.

He had just...oh God, he had lost it, just like his father. For all the world, he probably even sounded like him. And the way Ukyo had looked at him—he hadn't had to see that look since they'd been younger and his father had still been around. It was the same look—

Ema jumped up from the couch, just as alarmed as she had been when Ukyo necked her.

"It's okay! It's alright!"

He stared at her, uncertain as to what she saw that would make her react so violently. Even if some of it had shown on his face, she wouldn't have known...she wouldn't understand...for if she did, she'd never say those words so lightly.

Oh god. He didn't even deserve to be in the same room as her let alone in love with her. To think that he thought he could ever be a father.

"I'm sorry," he said, backing away even as she reached for him.

"Masaomi, it's okay."

He turned on his heel and fled—straight out ran from her and up the stairs on Ukyo's heels. He sprinted to his room, then slammed the door close and, for the first time in many years, locked the door.

Then he stood there, trembling like a man with palsy.

He'd gotten out of control. The very brothers he had fought to protect from his father, he'd turned against. So what that he didn't start throwing his fists, he'd freaking circumcised Fuuto than didn't give him painkillers. He'd terrified Tsubaki, made Natsume's life an irritating, furry hell for the next few weeks—

He laughed, but it was thin and high.

"I really haven't grown up," he wheezed to himself. "Punishments, protecting, preventing, no. They were just petty pranks because I can't be a man about it."

He flopped his back onto the door and slid down to the floor. His throat hurt. His hands had balled up, wanting to tear at something.

I hate myself.