It was the first night in a long time that I woke up with a start. My hands shook, and I clenched them into fists, then crossed my arms over my chest to try and stop the quivering there as well.
The nightmare always began the same, my mother tucking me into bed, kissing my forehead, and saying 'good-bye'. Rain pounded the window as if trying to make her stay, my heart seeming to keep up with the rapid pattering. After that it was a variation. Sometimes it was a car accident, her car sliding off the side of a road and down an embankment. That nightmare made sense because it was what had actually happened. As such, it was the one I had the most often.
But sometimes there were different versions altogether: hands made of rain ripping my mother from where she stood in my bedroom doorway, instantly liquefying her; a strong wind tearing the roof off our house and sucking her into the night. Tonight she had stood in front of our house, in white pajamas, and the rain itself had sliced bloody cuts down her body until she collapsed to the wet grass, her white nightdress now red, her lump hand filling my view as I stared at it's lifelessness.
My new job had deprived me of my late afternoon run, leaving my body less exhausted than normal. I'd have to figure out a new running schedule for Tuesdays and Thursdays. My dad didn't like me to run alone at night, and it wasn't often I could talk one of my brothers into going with me.
I lay there staring at the ceiling, wondering what my brain would do to me if I fell back asleep. Late the next morning, we were supposed to play a game of basketball on the elementary school's outdoor blacktop. I wished it were morning already.
My clock read three a.m., and my now frayed nerves weren't letting me go back to sleep. I rolled out of bed and walked downstairs. First I paced the kitchen, then I went outside. Before I discovered the amazing effects of running four years earlier, I spent a lot of hours in the stillness of my backyard.
I walked the cement around the pool, staring down at the dark water as I did.
A set of headlights swept across the blackness as Mrs. Bakugou's buggy pulled up next door. I was surprised at how late she was getting home. Lights went on upstairs a few minutes later, and that's when the yelling started.
I backed up to get a better view of the upstairs. A few more lights flipped on, and then the back door slammed shut. Peering through the cracks of the fence that separated our houses, I saw Katsuki emerge wearing a pair of boxers and a hastily thrown-on T-shirt, all twisted at the bottom.
"Psst," I called through the fence. "Katsuki."
He looked around and then straight at the fence, not able to see me, but obviously knowing it was someone in the general vicinity.
"Eijiro?" he asked.
"No, it's Y/N. What's going on?"
He walked closer. "Where the fuck are you?"
I held my hand above the fence, then he walked straight to me. "You okay?"
He sat down and leaned his back against the boards. I did the same. "The old hag just came home . . . drove home . . . drunk and fucked up in the mind. I actually kinda wish your dad had seen her driving so he could've hauled her in."
"Why does she feel the need to wake you and your dad up when she's like that?"
"Because apparently she remembers everything she hates about us when she's drunk and has an overwhelming desire to share her feelings."
"That sucks." The night was warm, and I let it fill my lungs. I pulled on a string hanging off the bottom of my cotton pants. "So you come outside when she's like this?"
"Usually. I find that if I walk away she eventually cools down. The old man still hasn't learned that lesson after all these years."
We went quiet, leaving only the sound of muffled yelling coming from his house. "Is he . . . she won't hurt him . . . will she?"
"No," Katsuki said darkly.
I leaned my head back against the fence. His parents either went to bed or stopped screaming because I couldn't hear them anymore.
Katsuki's voice was lighter when he asked, "And what brings you out on this fine evening?"
"Couldn't sleep."
"Ha, really? The soundest sleeper in the universe couldn't sleep? Why?"
"Stupid job messed with my schedule. I didn't get a chance to run tonight."
"Oh yeah, the job. I heard about this miraculous event. How did it go?"
"It was sheer torture. I'm counting down the days until I earn the five hundred bucks necessary to be done with this sentence."
"Didn't your dad say something about a hundred bucks a month after that too, though? For insurance or something?"
I groaned. "You're right. I guess I'll have to earn another couple hundred and hope I can plea-bargain after that. I think when school starts, that will be a huge argument against having a job."
"I'm sure your dumbass self will figure out something."
I rolled my eyes. Stillness took over for a while, and just when I started to think he'd fallen asleep there against the fence, he said, "You playing ball tomorrow?"
"Of course. You?"
"Yeah. Are you playing for the team this year at school?"
I nodded, even though he couldn't see me. "Uh-huh. Can't wait for it to start. Talk about exhaustion. School, basketball, gym, homework, bed- now that's a schedule my body likes."
"Why?"
Crap. The problem with talking to his disembodied voice was that it made me less guarded. It didn't feel like I was talking to anyone but the sky. "I just like to sleep good. None of this waking-up-at-three-a.m. crap."
"Heck yeah," he said in his best imitation of me (which wasn't very good). Every time I substituted a bad word with a milder one, he made fun of me by doing his own bad-to-less-bad word substitution. His taunts weren't going to pressure me into changing things. I was more scared of my dad's no-cussing rule than I was of Katsuki laughing at me for it.
"I knew you were going to say that," I said.
"Oh, really? You knew I was going to say 'Heck yeah'?"
"Well, some variation of it."
"You think you know me so well, huh?"
I could feel his smirk rising.
"Yep. Every last annoying habit."
He gave a breathy chuckle. "Well, it goes both ways. Actually, I probably know you better."
"You think you know me better than I know you?"
"Yes," he said confidently. "Because I see you every day, and when I don't see you, I hear Eijiro talk about whatever lame thing you guys did."
"And you don't think Eiji talks about all the lame things you guys do without me?"
"Okay, game on." That was his fierce competition voice. As he said it, I realized I knew it so well. His voice in general was so familiar to me. I was surprised I could picture his expressions as I listened to him talk. Right now he'd have a smug smile on his face. "We will prove who knows more about the other. We go back and forth stating facts. Whoever runs out first loses."
"You're on. I'll start. You have bloody red, crimson eyes."
He laughed. "Oh, wow, you're really starting with the basics."
"Yep. I said I knew everything. That's part of everything." The truth was, I wasn't sure I did know everything about Katsuki. As Eijiro's best friend, he was as familiar to me as a brother, but in some way, he was a mystery to me. But I assumed I was the same for him, so I had confidence that I knew him at least as well as he knew me.
"Bloody? Really? You make them sound so evil and intimidating."
"Yes, they are bloody. And, besides, you do show off a scary and intimidating vibe to lots of people." His eyes were awesome- a bright, shiny red everywhere. Yeah, sure, they look scary to some people but I love the vibe they give off.
"Your turn"
"Fine. You have (e/c)." (and describe your eye color in more detail if you'd like)
"Oh, I see how you are. Stealing my facts."
"Yeah, we should be able to match the other person's fact. If I didn't know your eye color and you knew mine, I should've lost right there. So now you have to match my fact."
I nodded. "Okay. I get it. Evolving rules. So you're up then."
"Right. You suck at math."
I gasped in mock offense. "Rude . . . but true." Okay, so I needed to think of a subject in school Katsuki was bad in. Problem. Katsuki was an excellent student. So my match could've been that he didn't suck at any subject, but I didn't want to praise him after he just slammed me.
"Oh! Got it! You suck at choir! Supporting evidence: You volunteer for the solo in the seventh grade Christmas program. You forgot the song. You sing the few words you remember completely off-key and your deep, raspy, growly-type voice wasn't cut out for the job." I laughed, remembering the cringe-worthy moment. "I think we still have that on home video somewhere."
"Ouch. Sounds like someone's looking to die tonight." I heard a few small explosions come from the other side. He probably also grabbed his chest in exaggeration. But he probably also had a small....very small, slight smile in his face. "For the record, your idiot of a brother volunteered me for that solo when I was absent and I beat him for it after the fact. But yes, I do suck at choir."
"My turn," I said, conjuring up a mental picture of Katsuki so I could think of my next fact. I almost said he had big man tits, but that suddenly seemed too weird. Maybe I shouldn't know that about him. Especially since it's something weird for me to notice. "You hate to lose"
"That's a wash."
"What do you mean?"
"I mean, so do you, so those facts cancel each other out. Well, actually, you really don't like to lose and I just simply don't like to lose, so you're probably right."
I let out an exaggerated gasp, "That is such a lie! Katsuki you liar! You could literally blow yourself up with your own explosions if you could when you lose!"
He breathed out a laugh before speaking again, " I should probably think of something you just sort of don't like."
"Whatever, punk! You know you hate to lose as much as I do. And the proof of that will come when I beat you at this game and you cry like a baby."
I could tell he was about to say something until the arguing renewed in his house and we both fell silent. He sighed. "I guess I should probably go back inside and try to drag her to the bed so she can sleep."
"Does that work?"
"Sometimes."
"Good luck."
"Yeah." After he walked a few shuffling steps away, I heard him whisper, "This isn't over. I will beat you."
"Never," I whispered back.
｡･:*:･ﾟ★,｡･:*:･ﾟ☆ ｡･:*:･ﾟ★,｡･:*:･ﾟ☆
The next morning when Katsuki walked in the back door and through the kitchen, where I sat eating breakfast, we both pretended the night before hadn't happened. I picked up the basketball I had been propping my feet on and threw it at the back of his head as he walked by. He turned around and walked back to where I sat at the bar. He smeared his finger across the top of my peanut butter toast and then stuck the big glob in his mouth as he walked away.
"Gross," I called after him. I wasn't sure why we'd both decided to pretend it didn't happen, but I was relieved he didn't mention the late-night chat by the fence. It almost made it seem like it took place in a different reality.