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Is it Karamatsu’s fault, if he doesn’t get it? Blood ties are stronger than everything, and it’s even truer when you’re a sextuplet, and have spent so long being one sixth of the same person.
Or at least that’s how it should be. But why doesn’t it work that way?! Why does he feel so… alone? Always coldly ignored, or the target of attacks he doesn’t understand. Is it because of something he does?
Is it because people find him painful?
He has to know.
Osomatsu isn’t his best option, but who else is he supposed to ask? An older brother can’t rely on his younger siblings. More than that, he can’t let them realize that he has no idea what he’s doing. He’s supposed to guide them, if he acknowledges that he doesn’t know where he’s going—ah, even imagining it is too much!
But Osomatsu does answer, says that he’s fine the way he is, and doesn’t have to change. And Karamatsu is so very relieved.
For all of twenty minutes. Until one of his brothers pushes him into the pond, and he’s brutally reminded of the main reason why he wished to learn what could be wrong with him.
So he tries to figure it out, again. When the time feels right, he says it clearly: if they have any problem with him, they can just tell him.
And they ignore it.
It makes no sense. If there’s something so wrong with him, why wouldn’t they explain it to him so that he may try to fix it?
Does that mean he should believe Osomatsu? They really don’t want him to change? They want him to be the way he is? It would be nice, the thought alone warms his heart.
But, if that’s what they want… why does he keep getting hurt?
What if he doesn’t want to be the way he is? It’s exhausting. Again, and again. The parts of himself that he enjoys get ignored, insulted, wounded.
He only ever gets praised for the sides he wishes he could set on fire.
But Karamatsu cannot, should not do it. Being kind is his duty. His responsibility, as a man and as an older brother. He has to make his brothers smile. As long as they’re not crossing the line, and—that line is hard to cross. It needs to be.
Seeing them genuinely get hurt because of him, hate him for it, and for good reason… No, he couldn’t take that. The thought alone is terrifying.
And if helping them wasn’t the right thing to do, then why would they accept his help? Why would they compliment him for it? Why would those compliments feel so right?
But Choromatsu disagrees. Claims it’s okay for him to say no.
And that feels even more right.
Perhaps Karamatsu still has a lot to learn.
He keeps trying to do the right thing, in this new way he learned about. Charity begins at home, and isn’t his first home his own soul? Of course! The right thing to do can be the right thing not just for his brothers, but for himself.
It’s hard, and he feels guilty about it, but he manages to show them that he’s hurt. And they’re okay with it, they don’t crumble, only reassure him.
They do care. And they do understand.
It never lasts.
In the end, it’s the way he acts, isn’t it? Not anything in particular, not really. Just—everything.
So what he has to do to make the pain stop is avoid… everything. Right. If he doesn’t draw attention to himself, he doesn’t get hurt. And he’s so tired of getting hurt.
He puts all of it back in the closet—the sequined clothes, the customized tank tops, the fancy metaphors. The things he loves.
Some of it he gets to keep, his sunglasses and jacket and shining attitude. When he has the energy to withstand a little violence. When they’re in a good mood.
It feels wrong. He feels empty.
But the glitter could no longer cushion him against the words echoing in his mind like razor blades bouncing around inside his head, against the half-remembered aches marring his entire body. Every inch of his skin can whisper tales of suffering. So, it had to stop.
Being empty has to be beat being hurt. It’s all he has.
And… it does. It’s better. He still gets hurt, but it almost never comes as a surprise, or something he doesn’t understand. The insults and blows lessen, feel distant. Even death is a lot easier to bear when it doesn’t happen on a regular basis, when it doesn’t feel like his death is a punishment for a crime he doesn’t remember committing.
Pain is easier to bear when his brothers aren’t the one inflicting it.
Being quieter is the solution. It’s fine, he’s fine, he’s fine.
Haitamatsu.
Did he really hear them say that?
He hates them so much. He hates it all. They can all go to hell and never come back. Why would you tell me to talk after you’ve spent so many years doing everything to make me shut up? Why would I speak when you’re only asking me to do it so you can hurt me again?!
He hates them.
He… doesn’t.
Not really. They’re his brothers. He understands what it is to struggle with… life. And they have good sides, all of them. More or less. The six of them have fun times together when they’re not tearing each other to pieces.
He’ll keep loving them, for now and for as long as he will want to. But Karamatsu won’t wait for them to love him the right way ever again.