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Ichimatsu, unlike everyone’s assumption of him, had never hurt himself.
When Ichimatsu had started changing, everyone noticed. When the fourth born brother started becoming more withdrawn, even quieter than he was as a child, sulking and dark, the entire family fretted and worried. It was when they graduated high school that Ichimatsu finally let his mother’s worrying heart to rest and was officially diagnosed with depression.
The entire family, despite the stigmas against mental illness that had perverted itself into their media, their teaching, their – everything -- had all pitched in to help Ichimatsu.
Osomatsu started to become even more overbearing of a brother, always barging into his younger brothers, their lives and business. Choromatsu read up on some things online, about how to help someone with depression. The house started to be filled with things like tiny lamps and stress toys. Jyushimatsu didn’t need to change much; he was always the most observant. He always seemed to know what bad days were like, and changed his schedule accordingly. Todomatsu, even if Ichimatsu always referred to him as a dry monster, even pitched in – getting Ichimatsu out of the house, getting him to do things, even if all they did was bicker the whole way.
The only one who didn’t really change was Karamatsu. But, Ichimatsu figured, that’s because Karamatsu was already overbearing, and cautious, and observant and kind. Karamatsu had always treated everyone as if they deserved the best – even pieces of trash. Maybe it was because Karamatsu considered himself lower than trash. Maybe it was because that was just the kind of person that Karamatsu was. Ichimatsu didn’t really care at the time.
The point was, Ichimatsu never had time to hurt himself. Never had the opportunity. Even if Ichimatsu had wanted to off himself, he wouldn’t have been able to. And he didn’t really want to – it felt like too much of a bother. Besides, his brothers would no doubt find some way to bring him back to life and then kick his ass.
(When there are eight people in a house, it’s hard to keep any sort of business a secret – whenever it be pachinko or a job or even taking a dump.)
Having a family that threw their entire being into helping him… it was worthwhile. Even if he was just a piece of trash, they cared about him – even when he rebuffed their affection and their worry and had his lowest moments.
That’s why, when he saw the little band aids on Karamatsu’s fingers, his blood boiled.
The band aids were no more than an inch long, the kind you can buy in convenience stores. They wrapped around Karamatsu’s fingers; starting just above the first knuckle and winding down until the last one. It was only two or three fingers – more than enough to know it wasn’t an accident. Ichimatsu knew the look of self-inflicted injuries and he knew Karamatsu knew better than to do shit like that.
So when they were all settled down for dinner, he couldn't help but notice. He saw Karamatsu’s hand reach out to snag some meat, and he saw those little tan bandages wrapping around his fingers. Ichimatsu could feel a spike of rage shoot down his spine and into the pit of his stomach; settling there, burning and fresh and new.
Karamatsu was acting normal –- the entire family was -– as if they couldn’t see the band aids!
The second born brother didn’t anxiously twist his sleeves like Todomatsu did. He didn’t nervously pick at his skin like Jyushimatsu did. He didn’t bite at the skin of his lips like Choromatsu did. He didn’t constantly do headcounts like Osomatsu did. They all had their ways of dealing with anxiety, but Karamatsu had always been the one who went onto the roof and play music when he was nervous.
He never did… this.
What the hell was his problem?! And, better than that, why wasn’t anyone saying anything?! They acted as if they didn’t see obvious cry for attention, and Ichimatsu didn’t honestly know if that pissed him off even more than Karamatsu or not.
Speaking of Karamatsu, wasn’t he always the one who waxed poetic about not harming your body or doing things when you’re angry at yourself? What the hell?! Was that all a lie? Was Karamatsu just as shitty as the rest of them? If there was anyone that Ichimatsu was inclined to believe, other than Jyushimatsu, it was Karamatsu – but was he just spouting nonsense like all the others?!
The more Ichimatsu thought of it, the more pissed off he got. The harder he gripped his chopsticks. The less he spoke. The others had gone from talking to one another loudly, to almost dead quiet, looking at Ichimatsu, expressions varying from concern . Karamatsu, sitting across the table from Ichimatsu, was the easiest to read – and he looked at Ichimatsu with shiny, big eyes, confused and worry.
Spare some of that worry for yourself, you stupid idiot!
But he didn’t give voice. Instead, Ichimatsu slammed his chopsticks on the table, standing up abruptly and disturbing the tense silence. Shoving his hands into his hoodie pocket, Ichimatsu turned and stomped out of the room without so much as a word. The atmosphere must have been like a cage inside the room – Ichimatsu didn’t stop to turn back.
He walked up the stairs and into the rec room, pushing open the sliding door and kicking off his slippers. Ichimatsu fumbled over to the corner and practically melted, knees coming up to his chest; his chin resting atop of them. Anger filled up his bones and boiled his blood and he just felt so angry, infuriated. He didn’t say anything, not even as he felt a familiar body settle besides him.
“Go away, Jyushimatsu.”
Jyushimatsu stared at him with wide eyes and his ever – upturned mouth, tilting his head to the side as he flapped his oversized sleeves. Ichimatsu furrowed his brow and hissed, muscles tensed and ready to sprint if another move was made.
But Jyushimatsu didn’t move, and Ichimatsu stayed where he was. The silence stretched on for quite a few minutes, before Jyushimatsu made a simple ah sound, relaxing his body and pressing shoulder to shoulder with the fourth born brother.
“Ichimatsu-niisan.”
“I said go away.”
“Did someone do something to make you mad?”
“No! Fuck off, Jyushimatsu, or else I’ll -- ”
“Did someone do something to make you hate them?”
“No!”
Jyushimatsu’s mouth closed. Ichimatsu could feel the hot sting of tears building up behind his eyelids; he shut his eyes tight and curled into himself to make sure that he wouldn’t cry. Crying to Jyushimatsu was the last thing he wanted. He was always an angry crier.
“…then what is it?”
Ichimatsu’s arms itched. His chest felt like it was compressing, his heart pounding against his ribcage in desperation to get out. To find Karamatsu and punch his stupid god – damn hypocritical face until his stupid older brother realizes what an idiot he is. To tell Jyushimatsu that maybe instead of keeping an eye on him (one he never really needed), he should maybe keep an eye out on his other brothers.
Instead of saying any of that, though, Ichimatsu’s brows just furrow, and on instinct he hunches up his shoulders and turns away.
Jyushimatsu doesn’t say anything, but after a few minutes of nothing, he does get up and leave the room. Ichimatsu can’t find it in himself to feel offended – and why would he, anyway? Jyushimatsu was kind, but he wasn’t a doormat. Not like that stupid older brother who thinks he’s so cool. Not like the guy that Ichimatsu is so pissed off at. Not like –
“Ichimatsu”
The fourth born son hisses again and hunches up even more. He shuts his eyes tight and doesn’t make a movement. Not even when he hears the footsteps getting closer, not even when he feels his stupid older brother sit down next to him. Only when a hand is rested on his shoulder does Ichimatsu whirl around and grab the wrist, squeezing tight. The little band aids stared back at him, mocking him.
Karamatsu looks at him with wide eyes and an expression that burned in the back of Ichimatsu’s mind. Kindness, concern…it pisses Ichimatsu off. The fourth born squeezes at Karamatsu’s wrist, and he makes a small noise of discomfort.
“Ichimatsu, that hurts.”
He keeps squeezing. Those little band aids stare back at him, mocking him.
“Ichimatsu, stop it.”
Squeeze
“I said, “stop”. Please.”
He wasn’t going to get angry. Karamatsu never got angry, least of all at people who deserved that anger. Ichimatsu spits again and releases Karamatsu’s hand; Karamatsu draws it back, rubbing at the skin tenderly. Ichimatsu’s eyebrows draw down as he takes a glance at the wrist.
At least it didn’t look like Karamatsu had gone any farther than his fingers. Ichimatsu’s scowl deepens and he shrugs away from his older brother.
“Ichimatsu? Hey! Ichimatsu, you…”
“Shut up, damn it. Your voice is grating on my nerves,” Ichimatsu breathes anger and radiates hate, but that doesn’t seem to deter Karamatsu any. His older brother…his stupid older brother. His older brother who puts everyone before himself. What a shitty person to look up to. The fourth born turns his head just enough so that Karamatsu can see his expression. “What are you gonna do about it? Are you gonna cry to our brothers? Or are you going to,” and at this, he tilts his head to Karamatsu’s fingers, which were still hesitantly hovering above Ichimatsu’s shoulder, “Do more of that?”
Karamatsu’s expression changes then. The kindness morphs and changes into something more akin to anxiety. The caring falls away and becomes shame.
The silence fills the room, suffocating them both. Ichimatsu didn’t know what he expected, but it wasn’t this. But it’s too late for him to change – it’s too late for him to turn this into something that Karamatsu needed. The anger is still festering in the pit of his stomach, and every time Ichimatsu opens his mouth, to say something, anything comforting, all that comes out is frustration.
“What’s your fucking problem, Karamatsu?” he hisses, quieter now. The last thing that Karamatsu needs is for the other brothers to come in and see this. If Karamatsu looks anxious now, having all of his brothers there would blow it up into a full-on panic attack.
It’s a small kindness, but it’s all Ichimatsu can allow. His eyebrows draw together and he snarls.
“After all you’ve said about not hurting yourself, you wind up doing some bullshit like this? And why? Did you want to piss us off? Did you want us to finally pay attention to you? Well, I’m paying attention to you now but I’m not sure you’re going to like it. What were you thinking would happen?”
Karamatsu’s expression is something that Ichimatsu would never, ever forget. Those big eyes, the way they dart from his hand to Ichimatsu’s face and back again, the way that Karamatsu’s hand trembles, just a little bit – the way his mouth is hanging open, and Ichimatsu would make fun of it if he wasn’t so pissed off. The fourth born son growls.
“Well? Answer me!”
“I… I was angry at -- ”
“Yeah, no kidding, I could tell you were angry!”
“ –- at myself,” Karamatsu cuts off Ichimatsu, and the entire world freezes.
Wh –
What the hell?
Ichimatsu’s mouth probably has the same expression he was going to make fun of Karamatsu for – half open, eyes wide in a dumbfound expression. Karamatsu looks exceedingly uncomfortable, and Ichimatsu actually feels a little sorry for the guy.
Before Ichimatsu can ask, though, Karamatsu abruptly rises to his feet and turns. Ichimatsu stumbles up as well and grabs at Karamatsu’s sleeve.
“Hey! Karamatsu!”
“Let go of me, please,” the second born son’s voice comes out soft and pleading, which only makes Ichimatsu’s grip tighten.
“No! Not until you explain yourself! Unless you want me to go to Osomatsu about this?! I bet he’d be fucking pissed if he knew you were -- ”
“He knows!”
Again, Ichimatsu feels the tenseness in the room climb to a peak. He doesn’t let go. Karamatsu doesn’t ask again.
“What?”
“He knows,” Karamatsu says, quieter this time. “Please let go, Ichimatsu.”
The anger that was so insistent on curling in Ichimatsu’s stomach had practically evaporated, leaving a stunned fourth born brother in what was left of it. Ichimatsu lets go of Karamatsu’s sleeve, again, and Karamatsu pulls it to his chest. His fingers curl into his palm and Ichimatsu is suddenly aware of how exhausted his stupid older brother looks. They stand in silence like that for a little bit, before Karamatsu’s uninjured hand goes to rub at the little band aids – and Ichimatsu, stupid Ichimatsu, can’t stop himself.
“Why?”
Karamatsu, to his credit, doesn’t spit out whatever stupid one-liner he has prepared. He doesn’t look like he’s about to lie, either. Instead, his brow furrows a little, and the corners of his lips pull upwards – it’s not a smile, no. Ichimatsu can’t call it a smile – not when he can see how much Karamatsu is struggling to not just break right then and there.
“Because, my brother,” he hums, “Sometimes I can’t just help myself. It's never anything major, just little things like this. You don’t need to understand, and you don’t need to keep it a secret. I’m sorry for troubling you, Ichimatsu.”
And with that, Karamatsu withdraws; slowly, quietly, in a manner where it takes Ichimatsu a moment to realize that his older brother is moving out of the room.
No.
No, no, no – where does Karamatsu get off like that? He can’t just say things like that and ditch him! He can’t just say things like that so casually and pretend none of it ever happened! That’s nothing like Karamatsu, Karamatsu, who would do anything for attention –
Karamatsu, who didn’t ask for anything after that time Chibita kidnapped him. Never mentioned it, never tried to get pity from it – who just forgave his brothers, again and again and again.
Karamatsu, who went fishing with Todomatsu; who sang with Jyushimatsu; who was thoughtful of Choromatsu’s interests; who confided in Osomatsu.
Karamatsu, who always had encouraging things to say to Ichimatsu – even when he got nothing in return.
He can’t let this conversation end. He can’t
Ichimatsu makes another grab, gripping at the back of Karamatsu’s hoodie. Before the second born son can make a move to turn, or react, or anything, Ichimatsu’s hands reach forward and wrap around Karamatsu’s middle, and his face presses against his stupid, selfless older brother’s backside. He doesn’t want to see Karamatsu’s expression, and he sure as hell doesn’t want Karamatsu seeing his own. Ichimatsu’s fingers curl and he wills himself to speak. He can’t let it end like this.
“Don’t – think you’re so cool that you can’t depend on us,” he breathes, but he knows Karamatsu hears it when the second born’s breath hitches. “Don’t think that we won’t help you when you feel like this. Got it?”
“Ah… Yes, I think I do, Ichimatsu,” Karamatsu replies, and Ichimatsu could laugh at how full and vulnerable Karamatsu is right now. Even when he can’t see Karamatsu, his shitty older brother always has a way of getting his feelings across. “Thank… thank you.”
Ichimatsu makes a “hn” sound and releases his older brother from the hug, pulling back so he can see Karamatsu properly. While Karamatsu’s expression has changed, Ichimatsu’s has not – as if Ichimatsu hadn’t said anything at all. Shoving his hands back into his hoodie pockets, the fourth born shrugs his shoulders, and moves out of the room, gesturing for Karamatsu to follow.
They don’t talk about it. They don’t say anything to the others, and Ichimatsu doesn’t blurt out Karamatsu’s business – that’s for Karamatsu to deal with, after all. And Karamatsu returns to his normal self, happy and cheerful and painful, and Ichimatsu is so relieved that he feels like he could cry. But he doesn’t, because that’s stupid, and he knows that Karamatsu would feel (needlessly) guilty if he knew.
But when Jyushimatsu asks if Ichimatsu feels better later that night, when they’re alone on the roof before bedtime, he admits that he does, a little bit.
Maybe Karamatsu does too.