Work Text:
Bachira was 8 years old when he was sat down by his parents for a "talk."
It was right after a school day, Friday specifically. He couldn't stop thinking about playing with Mama again, since she had promised something special for him. Playing around by himself in the playground was alright on his own, even if he did stare at the other kids with longing, but he missed the feeling of chasing someone around, his arms outstretched until they would pick him up and embrace warmly. Mama hasn't been able to do that as often anymore. She looked more tired than anything.
Papa was also supposed to be here to, which to even the mere thought of made him smile wide. He always seemed to know exactly what Bachira wanted, and delivered it 1000x better.
With the two of them, it was like being alone every day at school didn't matter, because he wasn't alone at home. He could play all he wanted to.
Bachira went in and let his backpack drop on the floor next to the front door before running over and hugging Papa as tightly as he could, then Mama. "What are we playing?" he said excitedly, nearly jumping where he stood. Papa looked at Bachira. His eyes were droopy, and dark circles colored the undersides. His hair was clean, cleaner than Bachira has ever seen on him. Slicked back till it shined, and perfectly in placed, not a single strand curved outwards. He smiled, but his eyes stayed tired.
From behind him, Bachira heard Mama shift around, and something squeakily sliding against the wooden floor. He felt Papa's hands tightened on his shoulders.
"Meguru, how was your day?" he asked. Bachira pouted and shook his head. It was like Papa knew he didn't like that question.
"Nobody played with me today. C'mon, what are we gonna play? Mama said we had something special today!" He laughed and looked at Papa eagerly, leaning forward, as if he held all the answers. Papa's eyes stayed fixed, but now it drooped even further downwards, and grew tight, glossy.
That was the first time Bachira saw Papa sad.
"C'mere for a moment."
Papa stood up and, while still holding on tightly to Bachira's shoulders, he led him to the dinner table. Bachira wondered for a moment if they were gonna eat and felt second-split excitement, because Papa hadn't been able to eat dinner with them for a long time now.
His excitement dissipated when he saw Mama's eyes. They had the same glossy, droopy look.
Bachira jumped up a bit to sit on the too-tall chair, and watched as Papa and Mama sat across from him, far too separated from each other. Papa had his arms crossed loosely and was leaning back a bit on the chair, while Mama had her arms resting on the table and was leaning forward. It was like Bachira was being interrogated for a bad thing he has done.
The sun sat right on top of their heads.
Mama was the first to speak. "Meguru, we're...gonna do something different today."
Papa shifted noticeably beside her, his gaze in Bachira's direction but looking somewhere above him. Mama was the only one looked directly into Bachira's eyes, but it almost looked like she wanted to look away too.
"Is it the special thing?" Bachira asked. His hands tightened on the chair beneath him.
She didn't answer his question. She only gave another sad smile.
"Meguru," Papa said. He was smiling too, his mouth too wide and curved on his face that it didn't fit, like it was a wrong piece put in a jigsaw puzzle. "You know we love you, right?" Bachira didn't hesitate to nod up and down sharply.
"Yea! You and Mama love me a lot, so we play a lot together. I love you more anything in the world! I would be sad and lonely if you and Mama weren't around." Both sets of eyes sharply twisted away with something in them, but they just as quickly came back to look at him directly. Mama reached out to grab Bachira's hands on the table and rubbed them gently. Papa had his hand loosely on Mama's shoulder, and rubbed on circles with his thumb.
Mama's glossy eyes creased above her tight smile. "Honey, we love you so much... both of us..." It looked like she was about to say another word, but drowned before she could get it out. Her hands were no longer rubbing, and instead they latched on tightly to Bachira's palm, pulling them gently like they were a chain tying the two of them together. Like she was afraid to let go, in fear of losing his grasp.
Bachira looked up again, and saw Papa again. His hands on Yuu's hand were like another chain, on so desperately tight. There was no smile on his face anymore, staying particularly stern and blank, save for the far, far too glossy reflections in his eyes, or the slight quiver of his lip.
They looked so sad that it made Bachira want to cry too, and he almost did. Maybe it was his own glossy reflections that made Papa talk again, all while Mama kept her hold on Bachira. "We love you no matter what, Meguru, which is why Mama and I are...we've decided that..it would be best to, to leave..leave each other. We're separating, Meguru."
Bachira tightened his hold on Mama's hands. He looked back and forth between Mama and Papa, who both looked at him, back and forth, back and forth, back and forth-
"You'll stay with me," Mama said, her voice calm as ever, "and Papa will call you all of the time, all of the time Meguru. He'll call and come visit to play whenever you want and write as many letters as he possibly could and he-he'll call Meguru, we'll, we'll set up something I promise you...he'll..we'll," set up something, she mouthed, but no sound came out. Like an anchor, Papa had his hand on Mama's shoulders. Mama talked so much that Bachira almost missed Papa crying.
Thick drops of tears dropped on his cheeks, slow and heavy. It looked so out of his place on his usually wide, creased, smiling face, and, before, his expressionless eyes, blank and dull and trying so hard to stay that way.
Then he moved his hand from Mama's shoulders, and Mama's tears dropped too.
Bachira cried too.
"...but-but I thought that, what you said was....did I do something wrong?" he asked desperately. Like a hawk, Mama quickly grabbed his wrists and shook her head violently, while Papa too desperately reach over the table and grabbed him. Their words bumped and stumbled over one another.
"No! No no..sweetie no it- of course not its never..you're not...no no, please its..its not your fault, it..it isn't.." They avoided each other gazes. Bachira looked away from their eyes, and reeled back. Papa, Mama is- they're leaving each other, Papa is... leaving him. Maybe Mama will leave too after him, maybe she will and he'll be alone, all alone again.
But they can't be. Mama and Papa love each other. He's seen them hug each other and kiss and hold hands and say they do. Mama and Papa love each other.
Bachira’s head ran rapidly. Like he was falling, and only the hands on his wrist and shoulders kept him upfloat. Bachira could ask so so many questions, but he got out the first one quickly, like if he didn't, they'll leave right there and then. "W-Why?"
Mama and Papa stopped talking. Bachira bit his lip, and felt the tears salty on it. "Why are you leaving each other? I thought you loved each other..." That's how it worked, didn't it? You love them, and they'll never ever ever leave.
When he said that, Mama and Papa stopped. Their concerned and tight expressions that was once solely on Bachira left. He didn't think it was possible, but they looked even sadder.
Mama had her hand tight on Bachira's and reached out with another to rub away the tears on Bachira's cheek. She looked up and down on his face, but her eyes were so far away. He could see the thoughts turning her head, words that prickled nearly out of her tongue before being bitten back, and the tightness in her shoulders and hands slowly fade away. Before she spoke, a single tear fell out of her eye.
"Baby, it doesn't work like that."
Her finger still rubbed Bachira's cheek. He could feel the rough texture of her hand, its cold touch starkly contrasting the warm feeling his face he got from crying. No matter how hard he tried, he couldn't make sense of her words.
"Your mother and I still love each other, Meguru," Papa said. His tears were dried, and he had somehow managed to keep the blankness in his eyes. And yet, somewhere inside there, there was a crack not quite closed correctly. Bachira didn't know if Papa noticed it or not. "But, it just...didn't work out. We need some time apart. This isn't your fault, Meguru." Then he hesitated, and shot a glance at Mama. Mama was listening to every word.
"It's nobody's fault. We'll work this out. We just need time, that's all."
Mama focused back on Bachira. "You okay? You're very smart, Meguru, so we wanted to tell you so you'll understand a bit better. It's okay, it will all be okay." Her eyes shook with those statements. But Bachira believed her.
"Okay."
Even when Mama went in to hug him, and Papa did too, Bachira still couldn't grasp or understand them.
In every fairytale that Mama read to him, and Papa on occasion, it always ended with the princess getting together with her lover. They would have a happily ever after, and then the story ended. But it was assumed that their happily ever after continued for, well, forever. When Bachira would hear those stories, he wished he could be in their place.
He felt so alone at school. So alone that sometimes Bachira would fantasize about being in one of those stories. Running around, his imagination went wild, and someone would appear in front of him to hold their hand out towards him. "Come with me," they always seemed to say. "We'll be together forever." And Bachira would believe them, because he could see it in their eyes the look he always saw Mama and Papa have. It was so captivating. Bachira nearly cried the first time the bell rung, and he realized none of it was real.
Fairytales told him love made everything alright. It was all they needed.
Love fixed every solution.
Maybe Mama and Papa were lying, even if the idea initially stroke him as crazy. Maybe they just didn't love each other enough to stay. If he loved someone, Bachira thought, he would never leave them behind. He wouldn't be able to. It would hurt too much. Like someone took a part of him.
Maybe Mama and Papa don't understand that. Or maybe they do. Maybe all the looks he saw them give were lies. Or perhaps every single one was true. Maybe those fairytales and stories were true, or maybe, they lied to him too.
If that's the case, he didn't know what he'll do.
~
Papa left on a Sunday. A week after the "talk" happened.
Bachira hadn't see Papa and Mama together too often until then. Sometimes they talked, but it was always low, and mumbled so he couldn't hear. Then he saw the suitcases pile up, items slowly disappeared, until they were right here. The house felt empty, even if most of everything was there, because right in front of the door, Papa stood with everything with him.
His smile was so blinding and wide. It was like he was going on a full-expense vacation instead of leaving them behind. He got down on his knees and held his arms out, and Bachira ran right towards him. He wrapped his arms around Papa and pressed his head in his shoulder. Papa had on a fluffy winter coat, where the hood had soft fur all around it. It tickled his nose and eyes, but it was so soft that Bachira couldn't help but bury his face in it. He closed his eyes and held on tight, trying to ignore the icy air coming from the open front door and the ache planted deep in his chest.
Papa held on to him too, and while there they stayed tied to each other, the suitcases casted away any imagined fantasy that this is just Papa going to work. When Papa let go, Bachira still tugged tightly on. Maybe if he held on longer, Papa wouldn't leave.
"Meguru," he heard Mama say.
Hesitantly, Bachira pulled away. Papa still had on that too wide, happy smile, and those comforting eyes. "It's okay, I'll be back soon, and we'll take you somewhere special, okay?" Special. He said that before too, when the "talk" happened. Still, Bachira nodded. No matter what, he'll believe him, because Bachira had nothing else to believe in.
Papa got up from his crouched position, and he took a step back. His hands grabbed onto the suitcases and Bachira felt Mama grab onto his shoulders tightly. Before Papa completely stepped outside, he looked at Bachira, Mama, then the floors, then the walls and the ceilings and photographs on the walls. The table that sat near the door, the carpet they got just a few months back, the tv he was so excited to get, the cleaned living room that once stayed a mess. In the air, the smell of ramen wisped around, as their emptied bowls laid in the sink to be cleaned and washed, all three bowls.
Bachira never noticed before how young Papa looked at that moment, like all the wrinkles disappeared in his face, the eyebags too.
He looked up at Mama, and Mama looked young too, and small. Dried tears painted the undersides of her chin and she looked ahead at Papa with those eyes before Bachira noticed Papa was looking at her the same way too. For the first time, Bachira couldn't tell what they were saying at that moment. Papa nodded.
"Yuu, please take care." Mama had her hands tight tight on Bachira's shoulders and she nodded stiffly.
"You too."
The door closed, and Papa was gone.
Papa was gone.
Bachira didn't realize what he was doing until he was running up to the window, tearing away from Mama's grasp, and pressing his face against it. Papa's car was leaving the driveway, and Bachira tried desperately to catch his eyes and wave one last time. He waved and waved until Papa's car turned away from them, and went along the opposite road, until it grew smaller and smaller, further and further away, leaving. He waved until his hand felt numb, and Papa's car was no longer here. It had disappeared completely.
Desperation took over before he knew it, and his body moved forward, pressing against the window because he didn't want Papa to leave. To leave and never come back. Never come back. He couldn't imagine it, couldn't even think, and his throat closed up before he could yell and bring him back.
Tough but gentle hands tugged him back, and Bachira was enclosed in warmth once again. It wasn't until then that Bachira cried. He cried hard and loud, and he turned and pressed his sobs into Mama's chest, tugging her pajamas and grabbing her so so close. Desperate wishes went into his head, that maybe this was just an obstacle in a fairytale, and before long, the happily ever after would come again. Maybe Mama and Papa would suddenly realize they love each other again. He waited for the door to open, for Papa to come in and say that he lied, that he could never leave, that he loved Mama and Bachira too much and he'll hug him and press away the tears on his cheeks, and kiss his forehead and Mama's too. The suitcases were never real, they were empty and the house's emptiness was just his imagination.
But nothing like that happened. The door didn't open, and no matter how strongly he willed it, the house's emptiness didn't go away.
Bachira cried hard, pretending those dreams and fantasies were true and indulging himself in them, all while Mama hugged him tight. He didn't know if Mama was talking, but he felt droplets fall on his hair, and Mama's arms shaking. Maybe she was pretending too.
They hugged each other long and hard, afraid to let go. Indulging in past dreams that could never come true again, those that clouded the future because to them, Papa's empty presence would stay there for a long, long time.