Balbeen

Everything hurt.

Every inch of your body was begging you to stop. To sit down and catch your breath. Your legs were burning, the wind was hitting the bruises on your face. You looked back from where you were running, wincing at the way your neck strained. The cuts were fading, but they were still there.

Where can you even go during a time like this? Who do you turn to when your life is in shambles? When you've been beaten silly by the funny grasps of life.

The heavy drops of rain landed on your jacket, barely hanging onto your torso with how the wind was practically blowing it off.

You were running. You ran like your life depended on it. Because it was. You looked over your shoulder every once in a while. Worried that they might be following you. That at any point, you'll turn a corner and be met with the very person that hurt you.

You tried your best to even out your breathing. Focus more on the trail in front of you rather than the fears behind you.

You didn't want to keep on running. You didn't even plan to run. Like any other night, you were forced to. Backed up into a situation that gave you no choice but to run.

You were born to be your parent's child, and that seemed to be a fate worse than hell. Truly, you were already there. Days blending into one as you followed the same routine. Waking up to a house that was hollow. It was full of people, but if you lived there for long enough, then it would be as empty as the deep ocean. And you were like an air pocket, struggling to even keep yourself alive for long enough to grow into that successful person that many 'rags to riches' stories said you'll turn to.

Where were you running to? You debated between the shelter that you frequented to on nights like this, or the abandoned building that you turned into your hideout a long while ago.

As you ran, as you felt the sides of your stomach form into a painful stitch, you spotted the warm lights of someone's house. You stopped, placing your hands on your knees as you caught your breath. You looked up, taking in the small humble home, the bricks of the walls, and the wooden fence around it. A lie. A disguise. A nice, welcoming house that contrasted drastically to the life inside it.

The house of Ryuji Sakamoto. Your dear friend.

You met him when you were younger, maybe around when you were in kindergarten. You didn't like him at first, hated him, actually. But when two people of the same environment meet, they form a connection. Whether they wanted to or not.

You reached into your pocket, fishing out your phone and fumbling the screen on. Opening your iMessage app, you click on the contact at the very top. Pinned. Ryuji.

Y/n: you at home?

In an instant, three dots appeared. And a message bubble form his side.

Ryuji: yeah, you okay?

He wasn't unfamiliar to nights like these. This has happened before, unfortunately so. You looked up, peering through the curtains of his window. You held your breath as you saw the shadows moving with the light, moving to the curtain and moving it only an inch to the side. You saw a tuft of his black, spiky hair.

You shifted your attention back to the phone in your hand.

Ryuji: I made a makeshift route to my window.

You looked up once again. Spotting the big oak tree right next to his window. A steady, thick branch was right in front of the glass pane. You looked down, rocks. Rocks positioned perfectly to make something that resembled a staircase. Three rocks, each of them resembling a mountain, the first one was shorter, the second one was longer, and the next was the longest of the three.

Y/n: are you kidding me? I'll die if I climb that.

You let out an exasperated sigh, clutching your chest to try and calm your beating pulse.

Ryuji: well-- I can't go down and open the door. My dad's down there.

Blinking once, twice, three times. You placed your phone back in your pant pocket, zipping the pocket close. Ever since you ran out of your house for the first time months ago, you almost lost your phone down in an alleyway. From then on, you made sure to stock pile on pants with zippers, jackets with zippers, anything that would lessen the chances of your losing your belongings.

From the corner of your eye, you could see how Ryuji opened the window fully now. His face contorting into a grimace at the sound of the rain. He leaned back, reaching for something, before placing it out his window. A rope ladder. Something you'd only see in an action film, hanging out from a helicopter. How he managed to get that-- who the hell knows at this point. Ryuji's a man of many surprises.

You walked towards the first rock, taking in a deep breath, a silent prayer, and you made your way up. Your legs shaking, bending down to clutch on the rough material, trying not to focus on the way the rain was making everything slippery. You took another deep breath. Jumping onto the next, longer stone that was a few inches away. Catching yourself on the bark of the tree as you nearly slipped. You could feel his eyes on you. Worried. He wanted to yell encouragements at you, but he knew that if he did, then his dad would come in. And really, you saw him being beaten again and again by his father even worse than you slipping and falling.

Eventually, you landed closer to his window. You stretched out your arm, trying to grasp a hold on the ladder. After a few struggles, you finally got a good hold on it. Placing your foot on the first wooden slab. You climbed a few more, before you felt your wrists being gripped, tightly. So tight it almost cut off circulation. You didn't look up, didn't move, just squeezed your eyes shut as you felt yourself get pulled up into his window.

You landed on his futon, catching your breath once again. In an instant, you felt him throw a towel onto your figure, wrapping you up and leading you to the heater at the other corner of his room. Just as fast, he shut his window closed. The room was silent now. The sound of your ragged breaths filling in the room.

You felt his hands gently cup your face, opening your eyes slowly, you looked up at him. You were sitting on the floor, right in front of the heater, and he was crouching down in front of you. His rough hands hovering over the cuts on your face. Brushing ever so slightly against your bruises. You flinched. Sucking in a breath of pain.

"Sorry." He whispers. Eyebrows laced together in concern. In regret. "Sorry I couldn't open the door for you." He points down to the floor, signalling that his father was downstairs.

You shook your head. "It's okay." You whispered back, too worried to raise your voice any higher. A habit you started to pick up living in your house for too long; being to scared to even speak.

"What did they do to you." He murmurs, reaching for a piece of cloth to dab onto your forehead, before moving to your cheek. Drying the rain from your face.

"Don't worry about it," you cut him off when you saw him about to speak. "I'm here now, everything's fine." You smile, try to at least. You winced at the bruise beneath your eye, at the sting of the cut on the corner of your lip.

He sighs, sitting down on the bamboo floor of his room. "Need me to patch you up?" He asked, pointing to the blood that was on your face. Dripping down onto your chin. "I think you're bleeding."

You roll your eyes. "Oh wow, am I now?" You ask sarcastically. He laughs lightly. More like a breath through his nose.

"Sure." You slumped your shoulders down. Trying your best to focus on the warmth in your bones.

He nodded, scrambling up to open his closet, reaching deep inside and pulling out his first aid kit. Setting it down between the both of you, he opens it, reaching for the bandages and disinfectant. He nudges your chin up to face him.

"Hey." He calls out softly, noticing the way you were zoning out already. If you don't think about it enough, you might just not feel the stings of your cuts.

"Wanna stay the night?" He asks you. Trying his best to move his eyebrows in an attempt to lighten up the mood. As if he were insinuating something. You stare at him. Mind whirring as you thought of today. Of what fate awaits you when you go back home.

"I don't know." You said. To which he nodded in understanding.

"That's all good." He smiles.

It takes him a little while longer to finally finish placing the final bandage on your face.

He leans back, putting his items into the first aid kit, and ultimately back in his closet.

He pulls you up with him, guiding you back to the cushions of his futon. Bringing the heater right next to it, as far as the cord could stretch.

He sat criss crossed in front of you.

For a few minutes, you just stayed there. Not saying anything. Finding comfort in the silence, the white noise of your breathing. The only sound that you know to tolerate. Alongside his voice.. and maybe his heartbeat.. and maybe, everything about him.

To be quite honest, you were scared of your relationship with him. On the grounds that it was built on. The both of you only grew closer because you saw how much he reminds you of, well, you. And how much you hated that. Because you didn't like the thought of someone else going through the same things you do.

You were worried that your relationship was too codependent. That one day, if something were to ever happen. If either of your parents go too far, then you'll lose everything. Literally everything. You're each other's only friend, only partner, only person that understands the other.

"Tokyo." He says, his face lightening up as he said it. You looked at him confused, repeating the word.

"Tokyo?"

He nods enthusiastically. "What do you think of Tokyo?"

You pondered, unsure as to where this was going. "Uhm.. I think it's cool..?" Your voice was full of uncertainty. You were used to his random ramblings in an attempt to cheer you up. But this seemed to be much more different.

"Isn't it?" He smiles. "It's like, the city of all cities."

You stared at him, still confused. "I don't get it, what's your point?"

He blinks a few times, looking around him, as if to make sure that the room was clear. Despite there only being the two of you. He brings his chair in front of his door, acting as a lock, since his father bashed the lock broken a few months ago.

He returns back to his closet once again. Parting the mountain of clothes to retrieve something else.

A luggage.

He brings it out, trying his best to settle it softly on the floor. He opens it up.

Inside, was a pamphlet, a map, a compass, a bunch of other clothes, snacks. Your eyes darted form one item to the next. You could take aguess as to what this was for. You just didn't want to face it.

"Y/n.." His voice drops to a whisper once again.

"Ryuji.." You call back.

"Please, let's just run away together."

You didn't flinch, didn't shoot up to yell at him, or lunge forward to accept in a grand hug. You just brought up the questions in your mind and threw it out.

"We don't really have Tokyo money." You tell him, he shakes his head.

"We don't, but my mom does." He nods, digging through the clothes in his luggage.

"You're stealing form your mom?" You asked in disbelief, remembering not to raise your voice.

"What? No!." He shouted in a whisper. "We're staying at my mom's."

You paused. Thinking. "But it--" your breath got caught in your throat. A sick, acidic feeling bubbling up in your stomach. "But it's impossible for me to run away without my parents putting a hit-list on me."

He scratches the back of his neck. "Yeah.. I thought so too." He finally, finally, gets his notebook out.

From the look of it, it looked full. The pages were so written in and over-filled that it was practically making the book itself grow bigger in size.

"I have a couple plans." He opens it, flipping through the pages, before landing on one in the middle of the book. He turns it towards you.

Filling two pages were step by step plans on how you would successfully run away from your home. It had his drawings (silly doodles). And glued in pictures of things that you assumed he did just because he couldn't draw it himself.

"I know it's scary-- really scary, but I just need you to trust me." He places both hands on your own. Clutching tightly so that you could feel his warmth. "I really don't want to see you like this anymore."

You felt yourself tearing up. You didn't know someone could care so much like this. No, you didn't know you could be cared for like this. No one really bothered to think about you, so now that he does, it really fucks up with your head.

"I don't want to see you like this either." You let out a whimper. Sure, you were someone that could periodically stand up to your abusers from time to time. You found the courage to begin hitting your father back whenever he would throw you down to the floor. But you're still a child. And you're still fucking scared.

"I know. But I promise, you'll be fine. My mom'll take care 'f the both of us." His grip was tightening in anticipation.

You paused once more.

It would be nice. Really, really fucking nice. To escape somewhere, the big city, away from all of the isolation that you were forced into. To live a regular school life, maybe get a part time job, join a club. Maybe get a fun group of friends that you could hang out with whenever you wanted to.

But most importantly. Ryuji. The boy who would stand up for you any chance he could get. You'd watch the many teen dramas whenever the beatings were too much for you to bear. When thinking about them made you sick to your fucking stomach. That you didn't know what else to do, but distract yourself with your silly TV shows.

You'd live through them vicariously. Projecting yourself into the main character, and whichever drama you'd watch, Ryuji would be right by your side. It was your ultimate wish. Your fantasy that would never happen.

Or so you thought.

If you were to run away, then those dreams might actually come true. But you didn't know what the future would promise you. If it would be kind to you. If it wasn't done toying with the both of you.

But then again, you couldn't stand to be in that house for a second longer.

You took a deep breath. Before nodding.

"Okay." You whispered. He visibly brightens up.

"Yeah?" He had the sweetest glint in his eyes. Pride. He was proud of you.

"Yeah. Yeah. Okay." You whispered louder this time. This time, you were sure of yourself.

You took his hand that was on your arm. Intertwining it with your own. Fingers dancing on top of each other. You squeezed. He squeezed back immediately.

"I'll go wherever you do, Ryuji."

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