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Burn Out, Drop Out
Feb. 14th, 2024 08:35 pm[ Takeaki has spent too long trying to get along with his family. It's burned him out and he's burned his bridges, bit by bit. Every time he tries something goes wrong. There's always one of his half-siblings to give him a look that cuts to the bone. An aunt or an uncle to wonder why he's there. The father who just... doesn't give a damn and invites him out of a sense of responsibility but who seems content to do little else but pay for his education and otherwise doesn't want to see him. It's been grinding on him for as long as he's been alive and it finally comes to a head. A blow-up at a public get-together that turns into a screaming match and then Takeaki storms out and leaves the family to pick up the pieces. It's cathartic and it's ugly and it's awful.
He's cut off after that. The money dries up. There's no more tuition, no more rent, just him and himself, trying to survive by working oddjobs and slowly but surely sinking deeper into his own sense of wrongness, the sense that he's somehow the broken one. That he's the piece out of place and maybe it's a good thing he's finally cutting himself off from a family that's always treated him as an unwelcome guest at best and an active hindrance at worst. Someone to be shoved out, cut off, and now they can finally do it and it makes him want to scream at them. It makes him want to cry and rage and smash something but he can't do any of that.
He does key one of his uncle's cars. That feels good.
But nothing else does. Everything else is a mess. A load of tangled emotions and harsh words and a dwindling back account and a burning need to get out of town. He knows a guy. Someone older than he is, but a guy in the club scene who he's hung out with a few times and who has a place. There's the thought that maybe he can crash with him until he figures out what else to do, until he sorts out how he's going to find his feet again. There's nothing else to do. Nowhere else to go.
So he takes his bag of clothing, his computer, his documents. He travels light and catches the train and then walks and it's getting toward evening by the time he's standing in front of the door, wondering if this is really a good idea. But he has nowhere else to go. His other friends are broke. His family hates him. He hates his family. He stares at the door for a long moment and then he reaches out to ring the door bell and he waits - a mess of a teenager on his doorstep, hoping to be let in, hoping to find somewhere to sleep.
Even if only for a night.
The door opens. Takeaki steps forward. When was the last time he'd seen him? A few weeks ago? A month? More? He can't remember. He lifts a hand to brush his hair out of his eyes and adjust the strap of the bag he's got slung over his shoulder. ]
Hey. Let me crash on your couch.
[ It's not quite a request. Not quite a demand. Not quite an order. Definitely not an explanation.
But he doesn't sound like he'll take no for an answer. ]
He's cut off after that. The money dries up. There's no more tuition, no more rent, just him and himself, trying to survive by working oddjobs and slowly but surely sinking deeper into his own sense of wrongness, the sense that he's somehow the broken one. That he's the piece out of place and maybe it's a good thing he's finally cutting himself off from a family that's always treated him as an unwelcome guest at best and an active hindrance at worst. Someone to be shoved out, cut off, and now they can finally do it and it makes him want to scream at them. It makes him want to cry and rage and smash something but he can't do any of that.
He does key one of his uncle's cars. That feels good.
But nothing else does. Everything else is a mess. A load of tangled emotions and harsh words and a dwindling back account and a burning need to get out of town. He knows a guy. Someone older than he is, but a guy in the club scene who he's hung out with a few times and who has a place. There's the thought that maybe he can crash with him until he figures out what else to do, until he sorts out how he's going to find his feet again. There's nothing else to do. Nowhere else to go.
So he takes his bag of clothing, his computer, his documents. He travels light and catches the train and then walks and it's getting toward evening by the time he's standing in front of the door, wondering if this is really a good idea. But he has nowhere else to go. His other friends are broke. His family hates him. He hates his family. He stares at the door for a long moment and then he reaches out to ring the door bell and he waits - a mess of a teenager on his doorstep, hoping to be let in, hoping to find somewhere to sleep.
Even if only for a night.
The door opens. Takeaki steps forward. When was the last time he'd seen him? A few weeks ago? A month? More? He can't remember. He lifts a hand to brush his hair out of his eyes and adjust the strap of the bag he's got slung over his shoulder. ]
Hey. Let me crash on your couch.
[ It's not quite a request. Not quite a demand. Not quite an order. Definitely not an explanation.
But he doesn't sound like he'll take no for an answer. ]
