Family, Got It?
Title: Family, Got It?
Author: AustinAttAcK
Rating: PG-13, I guess?
Pairing: Mikoto and Yata
Summary: Yata loses his brother. Mikoto comforts him.
Disclaimer: I don't own K Project, obviously.
The bar was quiet. Homra members were off doing what they pleased, excited for a day off, leaving only Izumo, Anna, and Mikoto seated in the large room. Anna blinked a few times. The young girl looked up at Mikoto and her eyes shone brightly.
“Yata-chan…”
As she spoke, the door to the outside opened and Yata stepped in. His hat was low on his face, covering his eyes, and his mouth was turned into a horrible frown.
“Ahh, Yata. Where’ve you been today? Rikio and Shouhei were looking for you,” he took out a bottle of wine from the cabinet. “They said something about going down to-“
“My brother is dead,” Yata stated firmly, cutting Izumo off.
Izumo set the bottle down and sighed as Mikoto closed his eyes and rubbed the bridge of his nose. Anna got up off of the couch to make her way over to Yata, but the teenager darted away from her, and ran up the stairs.
Yata slammed the door to the room he shared with Rikio, and threw himself onto his bed, burring his face in his pillow. Just as he felt the tears pricking his eyes, there was knock on the door.
“Go away,” Yata choked out.
The door opened and shut, the person clearly ignoring Yata’s instruction. “Yata,” the Red King said.
“Oh, Mikoto,” Yata rolled over and sat up on his bed, thankful that the tears never fell.
Mikoto sat on Rikio’s bed, opposite from Yata and stared at the younger, hazel eyes searching his face. “Do you want to talk about it?” Mikoto whispered.
Yata shook his head and pulled his knees to his chest. “No.”
Mikoto nodded, but didn’t take his eyes off of the other. It was so different seeing Yata this way. His confident, lively attitude was masked with tiredness.
“The funeral is tomorrow at that cemetery near my parent’s house,” Yata said, finally glancing up at Mikoto. “Can I go?”
“You don’t have to ask something like that. Of course you can go, Yata,” Mikoto said and stood up. He walked to Yata’s bed and sat down next to him, and just as he placed his hand on Yata’s shoulder, the boy stood up.
“I’m going to the toilet. Or to take a shower. Or…something,” Yata said and quickly stepped through the door into the bathroom.
Once Yata was locked in the small room, he slid down against the door and dropped his head in his hands. The tears fell freely, now that he felt comfortable enough to let them. He tore his beanie off, and cried into it, letting the fabric soak up the wetness and pain.
Mikoto stood beside the door and pressed his forehead against the wood as he heard the heart-wrenching sob coming from the other side. He almost knocked, but he knew Yata. And he knew that he wouldn’t let him in. Mikoto felt such sympathy for the boy, remembering how much it hurt him when he had lost someone. He ran his fingers along the doorframe before sighing again and leaving the room.
The autumn leaves crunched under Yata’s shoes as he made his way through the park. The breeze felt nice on his face, and the sun was shining brightly. He stood by a large oak tree at the edge of the fence to the cemetery, looking at the people who were gathered there. He let out a long sigh before opening the gate and walking towards them.
Even with his eyes cast down, Yata could see the people staring at him. They knew who he was. His cousins, aunts, uncles, and friends of the family all thought of him as nothing more than a hoodlum. A punk. A gang member.
“Oh, Misaki!” a woman’s voice called. Yata looked up to see a pretty young woman running towards him. She encircled her arms around him, and held on to him tightly.
“Sam, I’m so sorry,” Yata whispered into her hair. She was crying, the tears soaking into Yata’s shirt. Samantha was Yata’s sister-in-law. She was beautiful with long brown hair and bright blue eyes. She was a hard worker, a wonderful chef, and she loved Yata like her own sibling. She and his brother had been perfect for each other.
“I’m so glad you’re here, Misaki,” she mumbled, finally pulling away from him. She wiped her eyes, trying to make sure not to mess up her makeup.
Yata gave her a sad smile. “I’m sorry I haven’t been around. I’m just. I’m just so sorry, Sam.”
Samantha ran her hands through Yata’s hair and down his face. “You don’t have to be sorry. Hikaru wouldn’t want us to be upset, you know. He would want us to smile and think of him with happiness.”
Yata nodded and blinked back his tears. “Yeah. He would.”
“You should go see your parents,” she said. “I know you’re not on good terms. But you should.”
Yata looked over his shoulder and spotted his parents talking to someone. “Yeah. I guess I should.”
Samantha smiled and kissed Yata’s cheek. “I love you, Misaki. And you will always be my family, no matter what, okay?”
“I know,” he said with a half smile. “I’ll visit soon.”
She smiled again before turning and walking towards another group of people. Yata sighed before making his way to his parents.
“Misaki. I didn’t expect to see you here,” his father stated upon seeing his youngest son. He folded his arms across his chest and looked Yata up and down.
“I see you certainly dressed for the occasion,” his mother almost spat.
Yata looked down at himself. He thought he had done a decent job. He combed his hair, washed his sweatshirt, and even cleaned up his sneakers.
“I don’t think that’s what this is about, is it?” Yata said, glancing back at his parents.
“You should show some respect. Do you see how everyone else here looks?” his mother said. “You should be ashamed.”
Yata huffed and glared up at her. “If you showed Hikaru even half of the respect I’ve shown him…” he mumbled.
“Excuse you? You better watch your tongue,” his father scolded. “You have no right to-“ he stopped. “Ah. I see you brought your gang of violent hoodlums with you.”
Yata turned and saw the members of HOMRA standing by the fence gate. A part of him was relieved to have them there, but he hoped that they would stay where they were.
“HOMRA is everything to me. They helped me when no one else was there for me,” Yata said firmly, looking his father right in the eye.
His parents glared back at him, only turning away when the priest said it was time to start.
During the service, Yata stood with Samantha, holding tightly onto her hand, and squeezing every time she whimpered.
When it was over, Samantha kissed Yata’s cheek again before leaving. He stood at the grave and looked down at the fresh dirt covering the coffin.
Yata’s father came up behind him. “Make sure those punks don’t defile my son’s grave,” he said sternly before turning and walking away. Yata resisted the urge to turn and scream at him. He knew his brother wouldn’t want that, though. So he simply turned around and faced the members of HOMRA who were walking towards him. He noticed how Mikoto threw a glare at his father, the Red King knowing that the man was a completely foul being.
“You guys didn’t have to come,” Yata said as the group came up to him. Anna ran to his side and grabbed his hand, holding it tightly, just as he had done to Samantha.
“Of course we did!” Shouhei shouted. “We’re always here for you, man.”
“We’re family, Yata-san,” Rikio said. He gave a sad smile and a thumbs up.
The others all smiled and nodded in agreement. Yata smiled back and looked down at Anna, giving her a smile, too.
“Thanks, guys. But I think I’m gunna stay here for a while,” he kicked at a wilted flower. “Just sit at the grave and think or something.”
“You do what you need to do, Yata,” Izumo said, taking a step forwards. He patted Yata’s shoulder before extending his hand to the little girl who was clutching Yata’s arm. “Come on, Anna.” She looked up at Yata, and he reassuringly squeezed her hand again. She nodded and let go, taking hold of Izumo.
As the others turned to leave, Rikio fidgeted a bit before stepping forward and pulling Yata into a quick hug. “Family, you got it?”
Yata nodded and pounded the fist Rikio offered when he pulled back. Yata turned away from his group and walked towards the grave before sitting down in front of it. He felt a presence behind him, and looked up as Mikoto sat down next to him inching his body so he was close, almost touching Yata.
There was a comfortable silence around them, nothing but the sounds of the breeze and some chirping birds filled their ears.
“It was a car accident,” Yata finally spoke. Mikoto looked at him and listened. “A drunk driver hit him, of course,” He scoffed and ran his hands down his face. “I haven’t visited them in such a long time. I’ve written some letters. But that’s not the same. I haven’t seen my brother in fucking months.” Mikoto stayed silent, listening to Yata vent to him. It was nice to have the teenager actually speak about what was on his mind.
“You don’t have to stay here with me,” Yata said, his voice cracking a bit.
“You’re right, I don’t,” Mikoto said with a smile.
Yata’s golden eyes started to fill, and he rubbed at them hard. “I don’t really want you to see me like this, Mikoto.”
“Emotions are good, you know. Things like anger and passion and certain kinds of sadness fuel your fire. Happiness and joy,” he paused and looked down at Yata. “Love, even. These emotions make you strong. They build in you and make you who you are. They give you strength to fight,” Mikoto looked down at the grass. “But things like regret and guilt and apathy? They weaken you. They hurt you and make it hard for you to fight.”
Yata looked up at him, eyes filling and almost spilling over. Mikoto looked back at him and smiled. “So try and let those bad emotions go, okay? Let them out.”
The younger nodded and kept his eyes with Mikoto’s, a few tears falling down his face. Mikoto reached forward and wiped one away with his thumb before looking up at the sky. “I bet Tatara has greeted Hikaru with open arms, eh? Bet they’re up there right now having a nice chat.”
Yata couldn’t stand it anymore. He held his face in his hands and started to cry, the water pouring from his eyes. Mikoto put and arm around Yata’s small shaking frame and pulled him against his body, and Yata buried his face in Mikoto’s shoulder, clutching desperately at his jacket, not caring if this might be stepping over boundaries.
Mikoto brought his hand to Yata’s hair, to comfortingly stroke through it, threading the locks between his fingers. He thought about what he had said as he looked down at Yata. He thought about what he meant. Love, even.
When Yata started to shift away, Mikoto looked back down. The younger sniffed and rubbed his eyes. “I must look like a fucking child,” he mumbled.
Mikoto chucked and lifted Yata’s chin, the other hand wiping the remaining tears away. “You’re fine, Yata.”
Yata smiled and sniffed again. “I think we can go home now.”
Mikoto nodded and stood up, reaching down both of his hands to help Yata up, and the boy took the outreaching hands and moved.
“Thank you, Mikoto,” Yata mumbled.
“You’re welcome,” the King said, knowing that it wasn’t just for helping him stand.
Mikoto flung his arm around Yata’s shoulder as they began to walk away back to their base. Neither noticed the figure standing on the opposite side of the enclosed cemetery. Frowning and pushing his glasses up, Fushimi scoffed and walked the other way. He really doesn’t need you anymore, does he?
Author: AustinAttAcK
Rating: PG-13, I guess?
Pairing: Mikoto and Yata
Summary: Yata loses his brother. Mikoto comforts him.
Disclaimer: I don't own K Project, obviously.
The bar was quiet. Homra members were off doing what they pleased, excited for a day off, leaving only Izumo, Anna, and Mikoto seated in the large room. Anna blinked a few times. The young girl looked up at Mikoto and her eyes shone brightly.
“Yata-chan…”
As she spoke, the door to the outside opened and Yata stepped in. His hat was low on his face, covering his eyes, and his mouth was turned into a horrible frown.
“Ahh, Yata. Where’ve you been today? Rikio and Shouhei were looking for you,” he took out a bottle of wine from the cabinet. “They said something about going down to-“
“My brother is dead,” Yata stated firmly, cutting Izumo off.
Izumo set the bottle down and sighed as Mikoto closed his eyes and rubbed the bridge of his nose. Anna got up off of the couch to make her way over to Yata, but the teenager darted away from her, and ran up the stairs.
Yata slammed the door to the room he shared with Rikio, and threw himself onto his bed, burring his face in his pillow. Just as he felt the tears pricking his eyes, there was knock on the door.
“Go away,” Yata choked out.
The door opened and shut, the person clearly ignoring Yata’s instruction. “Yata,” the Red King said.
“Oh, Mikoto,” Yata rolled over and sat up on his bed, thankful that the tears never fell.
Mikoto sat on Rikio’s bed, opposite from Yata and stared at the younger, hazel eyes searching his face. “Do you want to talk about it?” Mikoto whispered.
Yata shook his head and pulled his knees to his chest. “No.”
Mikoto nodded, but didn’t take his eyes off of the other. It was so different seeing Yata this way. His confident, lively attitude was masked with tiredness.
“The funeral is tomorrow at that cemetery near my parent’s house,” Yata said, finally glancing up at Mikoto. “Can I go?”
“You don’t have to ask something like that. Of course you can go, Yata,” Mikoto said and stood up. He walked to Yata’s bed and sat down next to him, and just as he placed his hand on Yata’s shoulder, the boy stood up.
“I’m going to the toilet. Or to take a shower. Or…something,” Yata said and quickly stepped through the door into the bathroom.
Once Yata was locked in the small room, he slid down against the door and dropped his head in his hands. The tears fell freely, now that he felt comfortable enough to let them. He tore his beanie off, and cried into it, letting the fabric soak up the wetness and pain.
Mikoto stood beside the door and pressed his forehead against the wood as he heard the heart-wrenching sob coming from the other side. He almost knocked, but he knew Yata. And he knew that he wouldn’t let him in. Mikoto felt such sympathy for the boy, remembering how much it hurt him when he had lost someone. He ran his fingers along the doorframe before sighing again and leaving the room.
The autumn leaves crunched under Yata’s shoes as he made his way through the park. The breeze felt nice on his face, and the sun was shining brightly. He stood by a large oak tree at the edge of the fence to the cemetery, looking at the people who were gathered there. He let out a long sigh before opening the gate and walking towards them.
Even with his eyes cast down, Yata could see the people staring at him. They knew who he was. His cousins, aunts, uncles, and friends of the family all thought of him as nothing more than a hoodlum. A punk. A gang member.
“Oh, Misaki!” a woman’s voice called. Yata looked up to see a pretty young woman running towards him. She encircled her arms around him, and held on to him tightly.
“Sam, I’m so sorry,” Yata whispered into her hair. She was crying, the tears soaking into Yata’s shirt. Samantha was Yata’s sister-in-law. She was beautiful with long brown hair and bright blue eyes. She was a hard worker, a wonderful chef, and she loved Yata like her own sibling. She and his brother had been perfect for each other.
“I’m so glad you’re here, Misaki,” she mumbled, finally pulling away from him. She wiped her eyes, trying to make sure not to mess up her makeup.
Yata gave her a sad smile. “I’m sorry I haven’t been around. I’m just. I’m just so sorry, Sam.”
Samantha ran her hands through Yata’s hair and down his face. “You don’t have to be sorry. Hikaru wouldn’t want us to be upset, you know. He would want us to smile and think of him with happiness.”
Yata nodded and blinked back his tears. “Yeah. He would.”
“You should go see your parents,” she said. “I know you’re not on good terms. But you should.”
Yata looked over his shoulder and spotted his parents talking to someone. “Yeah. I guess I should.”
Samantha smiled and kissed Yata’s cheek. “I love you, Misaki. And you will always be my family, no matter what, okay?”
“I know,” he said with a half smile. “I’ll visit soon.”
She smiled again before turning and walking towards another group of people. Yata sighed before making his way to his parents.
“Misaki. I didn’t expect to see you here,” his father stated upon seeing his youngest son. He folded his arms across his chest and looked Yata up and down.
“I see you certainly dressed for the occasion,” his mother almost spat.
Yata looked down at himself. He thought he had done a decent job. He combed his hair, washed his sweatshirt, and even cleaned up his sneakers.
“I don’t think that’s what this is about, is it?” Yata said, glancing back at his parents.
“You should show some respect. Do you see how everyone else here looks?” his mother said. “You should be ashamed.”
Yata huffed and glared up at her. “If you showed Hikaru even half of the respect I’ve shown him…” he mumbled.
“Excuse you? You better watch your tongue,” his father scolded. “You have no right to-“ he stopped. “Ah. I see you brought your gang of violent hoodlums with you.”
Yata turned and saw the members of HOMRA standing by the fence gate. A part of him was relieved to have them there, but he hoped that they would stay where they were.
“HOMRA is everything to me. They helped me when no one else was there for me,” Yata said firmly, looking his father right in the eye.
His parents glared back at him, only turning away when the priest said it was time to start.
During the service, Yata stood with Samantha, holding tightly onto her hand, and squeezing every time she whimpered.
When it was over, Samantha kissed Yata’s cheek again before leaving. He stood at the grave and looked down at the fresh dirt covering the coffin.
Yata’s father came up behind him. “Make sure those punks don’t defile my son’s grave,” he said sternly before turning and walking away. Yata resisted the urge to turn and scream at him. He knew his brother wouldn’t want that, though. So he simply turned around and faced the members of HOMRA who were walking towards him. He noticed how Mikoto threw a glare at his father, the Red King knowing that the man was a completely foul being.
“You guys didn’t have to come,” Yata said as the group came up to him. Anna ran to his side and grabbed his hand, holding it tightly, just as he had done to Samantha.
“Of course we did!” Shouhei shouted. “We’re always here for you, man.”
“We’re family, Yata-san,” Rikio said. He gave a sad smile and a thumbs up.
The others all smiled and nodded in agreement. Yata smiled back and looked down at Anna, giving her a smile, too.
“Thanks, guys. But I think I’m gunna stay here for a while,” he kicked at a wilted flower. “Just sit at the grave and think or something.”
“You do what you need to do, Yata,” Izumo said, taking a step forwards. He patted Yata’s shoulder before extending his hand to the little girl who was clutching Yata’s arm. “Come on, Anna.” She looked up at Yata, and he reassuringly squeezed her hand again. She nodded and let go, taking hold of Izumo.
As the others turned to leave, Rikio fidgeted a bit before stepping forward and pulling Yata into a quick hug. “Family, you got it?”
Yata nodded and pounded the fist Rikio offered when he pulled back. Yata turned away from his group and walked towards the grave before sitting down in front of it. He felt a presence behind him, and looked up as Mikoto sat down next to him inching his body so he was close, almost touching Yata.
There was a comfortable silence around them, nothing but the sounds of the breeze and some chirping birds filled their ears.
“It was a car accident,” Yata finally spoke. Mikoto looked at him and listened. “A drunk driver hit him, of course,” He scoffed and ran his hands down his face. “I haven’t visited them in such a long time. I’ve written some letters. But that’s not the same. I haven’t seen my brother in fucking months.” Mikoto stayed silent, listening to Yata vent to him. It was nice to have the teenager actually speak about what was on his mind.
“You don’t have to stay here with me,” Yata said, his voice cracking a bit.
“You’re right, I don’t,” Mikoto said with a smile.
Yata’s golden eyes started to fill, and he rubbed at them hard. “I don’t really want you to see me like this, Mikoto.”
“Emotions are good, you know. Things like anger and passion and certain kinds of sadness fuel your fire. Happiness and joy,” he paused and looked down at Yata. “Love, even. These emotions make you strong. They build in you and make you who you are. They give you strength to fight,” Mikoto looked down at the grass. “But things like regret and guilt and apathy? They weaken you. They hurt you and make it hard for you to fight.”
Yata looked up at him, eyes filling and almost spilling over. Mikoto looked back at him and smiled. “So try and let those bad emotions go, okay? Let them out.”
The younger nodded and kept his eyes with Mikoto’s, a few tears falling down his face. Mikoto reached forward and wiped one away with his thumb before looking up at the sky. “I bet Tatara has greeted Hikaru with open arms, eh? Bet they’re up there right now having a nice chat.”
Yata couldn’t stand it anymore. He held his face in his hands and started to cry, the water pouring from his eyes. Mikoto put and arm around Yata’s small shaking frame and pulled him against his body, and Yata buried his face in Mikoto’s shoulder, clutching desperately at his jacket, not caring if this might be stepping over boundaries.
Mikoto brought his hand to Yata’s hair, to comfortingly stroke through it, threading the locks between his fingers. He thought about what he had said as he looked down at Yata. He thought about what he meant. Love, even.
When Yata started to shift away, Mikoto looked back down. The younger sniffed and rubbed his eyes. “I must look like a fucking child,” he mumbled.
Mikoto chucked and lifted Yata’s chin, the other hand wiping the remaining tears away. “You’re fine, Yata.”
Yata smiled and sniffed again. “I think we can go home now.”
Mikoto nodded and stood up, reaching down both of his hands to help Yata up, and the boy took the outreaching hands and moved.
“Thank you, Mikoto,” Yata mumbled.
“You’re welcome,” the King said, knowing that it wasn’t just for helping him stand.
Mikoto flung his arm around Yata’s shoulder as they began to walk away back to their base. Neither noticed the figure standing on the opposite side of the enclosed cemetery. Frowning and pushing his glasses up, Fushimi scoffed and walked the other way. He really doesn’t need you anymore, does he?