“I don’t want to talk about it,” you said in a small voice.
“I want to help,” he said gently, stepping forward to embrace you even though you were in the middle of the street just outside the school grounds.
“You can’t help,” you said sadly, “I don’t want us to be apart. I don’t want to have to stop seeing you.”
“What?” he asked, his heart dropping, “why would you have to stop seeing me?”
“I haven’t told my dad that I have a boyfriend and I’m worried when he finds out then he’s gonna force me to break up with you.”
Kenma’s already sinking heart took one last metaphorical breath in and then sank under the surface.
“Would he do that?” Kenma asked in a numb voice.
“It’s possible. My dad doesn’t like me and wants me to have a miserable life,” you said blandly.
“I can talk to him…” Kenma said.
You shook your head.
“There’s no talking to him. He doesn’t listen. I’m already a disgrace to him so there’s no way he would suddenly be nice to me.”
The two of you just stood there staring at the ground.
“I don’t want us to be apart,” Kenma suddenly said strongly.
“I don’t either,” you replied, tears welling up in your eyes.
You wrapped your arms around him and squeezed him close, bottom lip quivering away.
“But I don’t know what to do?” you wailed into him.
He just hugged you close and thought hard.
“He’s the final boss,” he said softly, “I have to figure out how to defeat the final boss.”
You didn’t know what he was talking about so didn’t reply and just held him like it was the last time you would ever get to hold him.
You didn’t end up shopping after that, you weren’t in the mood.
So after spending time with the two Kenmas (human and cat) you headed home.
As you entered the house you could hear the TV on and you paused for a second.
“Oh…dad is home… do I say hi or should I just go to my room?”
You stalled for a second or two but it was a little too long of a pause, since your dad walked past the hall to head into the kitchen and saw you standing at the door.
“When did you get home?” he asked gruffly, “why don’t you call out a greeting when you get home? It’s rude to just enter and not say anything.”
“I can’t even get in the front door without him breathing down my neck.”
You turned to the stairs and he called out to stop you.
“Excuse me, where are you going?”
“To my room?” you replied, trying not to sound sassy but it was like “what do you mean where am I going? I’m getting away from you. You obviously don’t want me around so I’m getting out of your hair.”
“I haven’t been home in over a week and you want to go to your room. Come here and get a plate of food and spend time with your father,” he demanded.
“I’d rather shoot myself in the face with paint balls while walking bare foot on Lego,” you thought as you held in another sigh and dropped your bag down at the foot of the stairs to walk to the kitchen.
“Don’t just leave your bag in the hallway where someone could trip over it!” your dad snapped, “go and put it NEATLY next to the table over there.” He point across the hall the the table and you bit down hard on your tongue.
“Fuck man. Can I do NOTHING right? Trip over it? Who is gonna trip over it? There’s only the two of us here and we BOTH know where it is so how are we going to fall over it. I’m so done and I have only just walked in the door.”
“You’re unusually quiet,” your dad said as you finished putting your bag down and walking up the hallway to him, “did you get in trouble at school? Is that why you’re quiet?”
“No?” you replied, giving him a puzzled look.
“Don’t give me that attitude,” he replied quickly.
You were pretty much fed up at this point. When your dad was home it was any of the below:
You would be ignored.
Or sometimes, on a really fun day, all three of them.
Yay. Life was so good.
“Sorry,” you said mechanically. There was no sincerity to it. It was a learned response to get him to shut up, but it annoyed you none the less that you had to always apologize to him for things that weren’t your fault.
“Eat some food.” He then demanded, gesturing to a whole spread of food he had bought from various local restaurants.
You picked out a few things you liked and then stood there at the kitchen bench to eat.
“Don’t just eat there,” he said with a frown on his face, “the TV is on come and eat in there.”
Reluctantly, you picked up your plate and followed him into the lounge.
What a fun night this was going to be. You were right there where he could pick on you even more.
Your backside hadn’t even hit the seat when he started up again.
“Is that all you’re going to eat? Go and get some more. I’ve spent a lot of money on this food and I’m not letting it go to waste,” he snapped.
“I’ll get some more after,” you said dully, looking down at your plate and not him.
For some weird reason you had lost your appetite. (Sarcasm)
“No. Go and get more now,” he said.
You stood up and walked out, placing your plate down on the kitchen counter and then resting your hands either side of it as you did your best to control your breathing.
“I don’t want to be here. I don’t want to be here. I don’t want to be here,” you chanted, scrunching your eyes up tight and praying that when you opened them you would be in a completely different place.
“Hurry up, Y/N,” you heard your father’s voice call from the lounge.
He sounded annoyed.
Grabbing a handful of something close by you slammed it down onto your plate and marched back in and sat down firmly on the seat.
Your dad looked over and scoffed.
“I swear to god if he says anything…”
“I buy the nicest of everything and you go and pick that to put on your plate,” he said.
That was the straw that broke the camels back and you just stood up silently and walked out.
“Where are you going?” your dad called out after you, calling your name loudly when you didn’t respond.