Original Fiction
Original Fiction. I dunno if you guys are interested but I thought I'll post it here anyway XD It's really angsty and depressing (as always ~_~) but it was just something I couldn't get out of my head and I wanted to write it. FYI the Shuji here isn't Shuji from Nobuta, I just shamelessly stole his name because I really like it XDD
Shuji shuffled into the room. The atmosphere was relaxed, completely unprepared for the news the sixteen year old boy was going to deliver. Takahiro, Shuji’s father, reclined on the sofa, eyes shining with mirth as he chortled at some Chinese programme on television that Shuji couldn’t understand. His mother, Yuuka, glanced up at the sound of her son’s trainers against the plush carpet, greeting him with a smile. When the smile wasn’t returned, she sat up from her position over the table, pausing in her letter writing and putting the pen down, ink shimmering on hiragana characters Shuji paid no attention to.
Long hair curled into Shuji’s eyes as he kept his head turned down, fingers curled tightly into the pockets of his pale green jacket. He remained, unmoving, by the door frame, seemingly frozen in place, even as the door clipped him slightly on the back when it swung shut.
Snapping his attention away from the pretty Chinese news reporter on the television, Takahiro beckoned his son into the room with a wave of his large hands. Hesitantly, Shuji stepped further into the room, unconsciously moving closer to his mother. Her attention remained on her son, maternal instincts kicking the moment she could see her son trembling under his thick jacket.
“Shu-chan? What’s the matter?”
Her only reply was that of her husband, muttering under his breath about childish nicknames and over protective mothers.
Shuji remained unmoving, wishing he could have just walked past the living room door when he returned home, keeping his secret to himself as he had been for the past four months. It wasn’t that important anyway. When he felt his mother’s delicate hand tugging on his belt, he lifted his head slightly and regarded her. She was a beautiful woman, her age barely showed. Her eyes were crinkled with laughter lines and her thick black hair fell in waves over her shoulders. Tender and gentle, Yuuka was a wonderful parent, raising her three children into respectable human beings; with little help from her husband.
Legs like jelly, Shuji sunk to his knees in an unmistakeable bow. Head held high, he pulled his hands out of his pockets and curled his long fingers into the carpet before him.
It’s now or never.
“I…”
Shuji choked out the single word. He’d never found speech this difficult before.
“I’m… I…”
“Shuji, please, tell me what’s wrong.”
His mother’s voice whirled around his head, her delicate Japanese mingling with the Chinese of the reporter on the TV. He only understood one, only understood the one that really mattered. Clenching his fingers until his knuckles turned white, he thought of only his mother as he blurted out the words.
“I’m gay.”
Shuji fell further into his bow, his forehead nearly coming into contact with the carpet. Nobody moved. The tension in the air was almost tangible as the reality of what Shuji; the Yamashita’s only son, had just said. Everybody seemed frozen into place and Shuji found himself regretting his actions more than ever, wished that he could just get up and run. Run away from everything, everyone, until he was far away from the pain, the laughter and the stares.
“What?”
Takahiro’s voice snapped through the air like a slap to Shuji’s face as he screwed his eyes tightly shut.
Please don’t make me say it again.
“Are you deaf boy!? What did you say?” Takahiro crossed the room in two strides and pulled his son up by the hair, ignoring the two separate cries from the other occupants of the room. He shook him, shook him like a rag doll and spat the words at Shuji’s face, forcing him to meet the other male’s eyes. Yuuka cried desperately for him to stop, to stop hurting their son and let him explain but she was paid no heed as the man lifted Shuji clear off his feet and slammed his body backward into the wall, rattling photo frames.
Shuji wept. Partly from the pain of the fist curling tightly into his hair; partly from the fear of his father.
“I’m sorry dad. I’m so so sorry, I -” Shuji barely managed to choke out before being slammed back against the wall; cries from his mother ringing again and again in his ears. His father moved closer; their faces inches apart now, and whispered in his ear.
“What are you boy?”
Deadly as venom, Shuji caught the warning in the words. He couldn’t back out now, couldn’t escape.
“I’m ga-”
“No boy, you’re a fag. A filthy, disgusting, fag and no son of mine. Get the hell out of my house.” Shuji was released and he hit the floor with a whimper, tears spilling from under his eyelids as he struggled to his knees. Yuuka moved to help him but was stopped by a harsh command from her husband.
“Don’t touch it.”
Shuji crawled on his hands and knees to the door and fumbled with the handle, pushing the door open with his shoulder. Entering the hallway, Shuji came face to face with his older sister.
“Cho…”
“Shuji I… we heard everything.”
“We…? Ran.”
Gazing over to the staircase, Shuji spotted his youngest sister perched on the third step with a teddy bear held to her chest and tear marks staining her cheeks. Eleven years old. She shouldn’t have to deal with this.
“I’m so sorry. I shouldn’t have told them…but they… I had to tell someone. I’m so sorry.” Cho gathered the younger boy into her arms and pulled him against her chest, muttering comforting words into his hair.
“Shh… it’s okay Shuji. Everything will be okay.”
And as Shuji broke down in her embrace, sobs echoing throughout the small hallway, he just wished he could believe her.
Shuji shuffled into the room. The atmosphere was relaxed, completely unprepared for the news the sixteen year old boy was going to deliver. Takahiro, Shuji’s father, reclined on the sofa, eyes shining with mirth as he chortled at some Chinese programme on television that Shuji couldn’t understand. His mother, Yuuka, glanced up at the sound of her son’s trainers against the plush carpet, greeting him with a smile. When the smile wasn’t returned, she sat up from her position over the table, pausing in her letter writing and putting the pen down, ink shimmering on hiragana characters Shuji paid no attention to.
Long hair curled into Shuji’s eyes as he kept his head turned down, fingers curled tightly into the pockets of his pale green jacket. He remained, unmoving, by the door frame, seemingly frozen in place, even as the door clipped him slightly on the back when it swung shut.
Snapping his attention away from the pretty Chinese news reporter on the television, Takahiro beckoned his son into the room with a wave of his large hands. Hesitantly, Shuji stepped further into the room, unconsciously moving closer to his mother. Her attention remained on her son, maternal instincts kicking the moment she could see her son trembling under his thick jacket.
“Shu-chan? What’s the matter?”
Her only reply was that of her husband, muttering under his breath about childish nicknames and over protective mothers.
Shuji remained unmoving, wishing he could have just walked past the living room door when he returned home, keeping his secret to himself as he had been for the past four months. It wasn’t that important anyway. When he felt his mother’s delicate hand tugging on his belt, he lifted his head slightly and regarded her. She was a beautiful woman, her age barely showed. Her eyes were crinkled with laughter lines and her thick black hair fell in waves over her shoulders. Tender and gentle, Yuuka was a wonderful parent, raising her three children into respectable human beings; with little help from her husband.
Legs like jelly, Shuji sunk to his knees in an unmistakeable bow. Head held high, he pulled his hands out of his pockets and curled his long fingers into the carpet before him.
It’s now or never.
“I…”
Shuji choked out the single word. He’d never found speech this difficult before.
“I’m… I…”
“Shuji, please, tell me what’s wrong.”
His mother’s voice whirled around his head, her delicate Japanese mingling with the Chinese of the reporter on the TV. He only understood one, only understood the one that really mattered. Clenching his fingers until his knuckles turned white, he thought of only his mother as he blurted out the words.
“I’m gay.”
Shuji fell further into his bow, his forehead nearly coming into contact with the carpet. Nobody moved. The tension in the air was almost tangible as the reality of what Shuji; the Yamashita’s only son, had just said. Everybody seemed frozen into place and Shuji found himself regretting his actions more than ever, wished that he could just get up and run. Run away from everything, everyone, until he was far away from the pain, the laughter and the stares.
“What?”
Takahiro’s voice snapped through the air like a slap to Shuji’s face as he screwed his eyes tightly shut.
Please don’t make me say it again.
“Are you deaf boy!? What did you say?” Takahiro crossed the room in two strides and pulled his son up by the hair, ignoring the two separate cries from the other occupants of the room. He shook him, shook him like a rag doll and spat the words at Shuji’s face, forcing him to meet the other male’s eyes. Yuuka cried desperately for him to stop, to stop hurting their son and let him explain but she was paid no heed as the man lifted Shuji clear off his feet and slammed his body backward into the wall, rattling photo frames.
Shuji wept. Partly from the pain of the fist curling tightly into his hair; partly from the fear of his father.
“I’m sorry dad. I’m so so sorry, I -” Shuji barely managed to choke out before being slammed back against the wall; cries from his mother ringing again and again in his ears. His father moved closer; their faces inches apart now, and whispered in his ear.
“What are you boy?”
Deadly as venom, Shuji caught the warning in the words. He couldn’t back out now, couldn’t escape.
“I’m ga-”
“No boy, you’re a fag. A filthy, disgusting, fag and no son of mine. Get the hell out of my house.” Shuji was released and he hit the floor with a whimper, tears spilling from under his eyelids as he struggled to his knees. Yuuka moved to help him but was stopped by a harsh command from her husband.
“Don’t touch it.”
Shuji crawled on his hands and knees to the door and fumbled with the handle, pushing the door open with his shoulder. Entering the hallway, Shuji came face to face with his older sister.
“Cho…”
“Shuji I… we heard everything.”
“We…? Ran.”
Gazing over to the staircase, Shuji spotted his youngest sister perched on the third step with a teddy bear held to her chest and tear marks staining her cheeks. Eleven years old. She shouldn’t have to deal with this.
“I’m so sorry. I shouldn’t have told them…but they… I had to tell someone. I’m so sorry.” Cho gathered the younger boy into her arms and pulled him against her chest, muttering comforting words into his hair.
“Shh… it’s okay Shuji. Everything will be okay.”
And as Shuji broke down in her embrace, sobs echoing throughout the small hallway, he just wished he could believe her.