#valliente

      When Mitsuo first caught his brother doing drugs, he was around fourteen himself. Barely had any hair under his pits and he was already excited to see what was so interesting about these pills his brother kept hiding in his pillowcase. 

They shared a room, so it wasn’t like his brother could keep anything from Mitsuo. Mitsuo had always looked up to his brother, so this was just another thing they could bond over - or so he hoped. 

With the drugs, it was easy to get hooked. Easy to fall into your own world and forget all the bullshit for once. Whether it be marijuana, pills, anything you could sniff up, it was good to Mitsuo. Amias thought it was funny how easily Mitsuo got attached, teasing him about it when Mitsuo knocked back a handful of pills without blinking. 

“Watch it, Mitsuo, you’re gonna be a lost cause soon.” 

Amias didn’t know how right he was. 

. 

. 

        They both became problems by time Mitsuo was sixteen. Their parents had found out about their stash - not only taking it every now and then, but selling it as well. Their mom and little sister cried, their dad nearly destroyed the house to see if he could find more. 

Amias was kicked out. Mitsuo remembered following right after him. 

. 

. 

      He met Midori on his seventeenth birthday. He was sitting on the sidewalk, legs sprawled out. It was dark around him, and his nose was broken. His brother sometimes had bad and random anger spouts that resulted in someone near him getting hurt. This person being Mitsuo at the time. 

“Here,” A hand had reached out for him - he blinked at it stupidly. His eye might’ve been swollen shut too, he wasn’t sure. But when Mitsuo looked up, there was a girl. She had blonde hair flowing over her shoulders, falling into his line of sight. 

He stared. 

“Uh, you need help, right...?” She looked confused then. She was obviously waiting for him to take her hand, and so, quickly, he did. Her hand was much smaller, softer than his. But she tugged him up onto his weak legs. 

He had to lean against the wall for support. 

“Are you alright?” Her eyebrows were creased, blue eyes worried. He frowned. When was the last time he was asked that question? Was he alright? Well--was he? Mitsuo wasn’t really sure. Quickly, the girl decided to act. She held up three fingers all of a sudden, “How many fingers am I holding up?”

“What?” 

“I said how many fingers am I holding up?” 

He frowned again, “I’m not stupid.” 

“Could’ve fooled me. You can’t even count.” 

“I can fucking count. It’s three.” 

She seemed amused. A smile was starting to make its way on her face. But she dropped her hand, satisfied, “You look beat up.” 

For some reason, her smile seemed infectious. 

“You should see the other guy.” 

. 

. 

      Her name was Midori. She’d recently moved to Japan from Phoenix. In North America. That was surprising, since she’d been so fluent in Japanese, he hadn’t even realized. But, it wasn’t like she looked like anyone around there. With her blonde hair, wide blue eyes. She was pretty - real pretty. And she was probably one of those girls who didn’t even know she was pretty. 

On the night they met, she bought him an icepack for his eye and sat on the sidewalk with him. They talked about nothing in particular, but it was easy to talk to her. Easy to get her to smile too. He asked about her parents at some point - she looked pretty young and they probably wouldn’t be happy that she was out this late. 

In reply, she rolled her eyes, “Puh-lease, they don’t care.” 

He raised a brow, though this action made him flinch a bit. Geez, Ichiro hit him pretty hard. “They don’t?” 

“No. My parents suck.” 

He snorted. And then almost groaned. He might as well not move, “Looks like we have a lot in common, huh?” 

. 

.

      In fact, they had more in common than he thought they ever would. They looked like an unlikely pair - she was the type of girl that was supposed to have pretty friends, that listened to her daddy, and drove around in her pink car. He was the type of guy that smoked cigarettes, that got angry at nothing, that looked like bad news. 

He fit the stereotype. Midori, for some reason, didn’t. 

She told him she sometimes threw up when she felt fat. And she felt like that a lot. She told him she didn’t have a lot of friends - girls didn’t seem to like her much. She told him that she didn’t want a pink car, that she preferred to ride on the back of her exe’s motorcycle. 

He was quiet for a long time. And then he told her, “You’re pretty.” 

She had frowned at him, “Don’t say stuff you don’t mean.” 

“I never say stuff I don’t mean.” 

. 

, 

        When Midori found out about the drugs, it hadn’t been a good day. Mitsuo had stepped in something wet and cold when he woke up from his old, lumpy mattress. It turned out his brother had thrown up on the floor, a few feet away from the toilet. And Mitsuo was the one who had to clean it up. 

He wasn’t as bad as his brother - he knew how to control most of his urges. For now. 

Mitsuo called Midori over when he couldn’t get his brother to wake up. She came. Of course she did. She always came when Mitsuo called. She made a face at the smell of puke - her little nose wrinkled up, but she hooked her hands underneath Amias’s armpits while Mitsuo grabbed his legs. 

“What’s wrong with him?” Midori asked when they began to make their way to the bathroom. 

Mitsuo swallowed the thick lump in his throat, “He took some pills last night.” 

“Pills?” 

“Yeah.” 

“He had a headache?” 

He glanced at her, “Not those types of pills, Midori.” It took her a few seconds to get it, but when she did, she was frowning. She didn’t look happy. Mitsuo frowned right back at her, “What?” 

“Do you take them?” 

Again, he swallowed, as he helped her place his brother inside of the bathtub. “Yeah. Sometimes.” 

Most of the time. All of the time. 

“Why?” 

He heaved a sigh, reaching over to turn on the shower. Making sure the water was cold. 

“Because. It makes me feel good. Better.” 

She was quiet at that. By then, the water had began pouring on his brother. It took a few seconds, but eventually, Amias woke up, blinking wearily and trying to sit up. “For fuck’s sake, Mitsuo!” He snapped when he realized where he was. 

Mitsuo simply shrugged a shoulder. Midori spoke up for him, “You wouldn’t wake up.” 

“And you smell like throw up.” 

Believe it or not, Midori helped him carry his brother a lot more times. Whether it be to the bathtub, the couch, or the hospital. 

She was there. 

She was always there. 

She didn’t have that judgy look like her parents had. She didn’t ask too many questions while they were lugging his brother around. She didn’t even complain when she had to help him clean up vomit or piss or any other mess Amias had made. 

Sometimes, she asked, “Are you alright, Mitty?” 

Again, with that question. It took him a moment to reply, “I don’t know.” 

. 

. 

      There wasn’t much he could do. With his brother’s intake on drugs, it just upped Mitty’s as well. He was starting to rely on the drugs more and more, waking up and popping whatever he could into his mouth. Snorting a clean line off the end table. Wrapping white paper just so he could smoke. 

His brother encouraged it. Of course he did. Mitsuo was beginning to realize he wasn’t a very good person. But it wasn’t like he could talk - Mitsuo wasn’t exactly a stand up guy either. 

One day, when Midori was over, she watched him pull out a pill bottle from his pocket. Her eyes looked curious today, “What’s that?” 

He glanced at her before tipping his head back and swallowing two without any water, “Just some X.” 

She tilted her head, “What’s that?” 

“Ecstasy.” 

“Oh.” 

“I’m going out later, so I want to be in a good mood.” 

“It’ll put you in a good mood?” 

His eyebrows creased. She was asking more questions than usual, “Yeah. I guess. More of, it’ll help with blocking everyone out.” She stared at him, so he stared back, “What?” 

“Can I...can I try some?” 

At first, he thought she was joking. She joked around a lot - hell, she had a great sense of humor. One of the things he really liked about her. But her expression didn’t change, she seemed oddly serious. 

“Midori--” 

“Please? Pretty please? Just this once.” 

He shouldn’t have given them to her. It’s never just once. 

. 

. 

      Before Mitsuo knew it, Midori was following right behind him. She liked the pills the best - she wasn’t really interested in putting anything up her nose. And she hated needles so that was out of the question too. She’d never smoked before, so he didn’t want her to start now. At least, not anything too strong. 

She knocked back pills like a champ. Sometimes, she drank them down with a beer. And other times, they would take shots together and wait for the pills to melt on their tongues. She usually liked the stimulating ones - LSD, ecstasy, methamphetamine, anything Amias suggested. 

They had their first kiss while she was high. It’d been a Tuesday night, they had gone out together with Amias to a small concert. Amias had found a girl he liked there and they were pretty much shoving their tongues down each other’s mouth by the third song. So after getting confirmation that they could leave, Midori and Mitty took the chance. 

Amias had a nice car--black and fast. And the windows were all the way down. The music was loud, things were a blur, and Midori was giggling a lot. Mitsuo wasn’t sure what was really funny, but he couldn’t stop himself from laughing along with her. They pulled over on the side of a dirt road, Midori hopping out first without her shoes. 

So he carried her along the road on his back, the car still on and forgotten behind them. Mitsuo wasn’t really sure where they were going, but that was fine. He was starting to notice he didn’t really care where he was headed--ever--as long as Midori was there with him. 

She was clinging to him, warmth and soft curves seeping through his hoodie. It was a bit distracting, even with her his muddled thinking. After twenty minutes of walking (more like stumbling), they made it to a small body of water, a pond with a little deck. Before he knew it, Midori was jumping off his back and taking off her shorts. 

He tried not to stare, he really did. Okay, that was a lie. He stared. 

Midori had a nice shape to her--smooth legs, thick thighs, her ass was great in his opinion, and her waist dipped in just right. He wasn’t sure why she always seemed to have such a negative view on herself, but it wasn’t really any of his business. If she wanted to pop a few pills to keep her figure, then that was fine by him. She never nagged him about his drug problem, so why should he worry about hers, really. 

Fortunately for him, she was wearing a bra. She stripped completely from her thin t-shirt, shorts, socks, and shoes and then jumped right into the water. Carefree, squealing, fucking beautiful and he could do nothing but stare. When she came back up, she reached up to smooth back her hair from her face. 

“What’re you doing, dummy?” 

Mitsuo blinked at her. Like a dummy. 

“Get in!” 

He didn’t need to be told twice. It felt like a scene out of a movie, he felt like a stumbling virgin. Rushing to take off his shirt and his jeans. Just like her, he jumped. The water was warmer than he thought it would be. Midori was giggling again when he resurfaced. 

“Nice one.” 

“Thanks, I try.” 

She laughed again, splashing him right in the face. They went back and forth for awhile, banter and splashing and swimming around until his arms got tired. When Mitty got back to the deck, he pulled her up along with him. Midori had the biggest smile on her face when she wrung out her hair. 

Mitty didn’t realize he was staring until she said something. “What?” 

“What, what?” 

She smiled again, it looked mischievous, “You’re staring at me.” 

“Am I not supposed to stare at you?” 

“It’s not like I’m anything to stare at it.” 

He almost snorted, “Man, what’s with you and that shit?” 

“What’s with what?” 

“You. Thinking you’re some...I don’t know. Like you don’t see yourself how other people do. How I see you,” That seemed to surprise her, so he backtracked, “I’m just sayin’...you’re the prettiest girl I know. You’re...y’know, hot.” 

She stared. There was a pause between them. And then suddenly they were kissing. Her lips were a lot softer than he’d imagined--and he’d imagined kissing her a lot recently. His hands were in her wet hair, her hands were on his chest and shoulders, and the kiss was a bit sloppy but it was fucking amazing and the way she scraped her teeth against his tongue and lips was making him go crazy. 

Midori hadn’t showed a lot of interest in him before--they were friends. Maybe it was the drugs. Maybe it was just the spur of the moment. Whatever it was, it didn’t matter because she was touching him and he was touching her and his heart was racing and her breathing kept catching and he felt like he was soaring--fucking flying, felt better than he had in the last few years of his life. 

He hoped she felt like that too. 

. 

. 

For a long time, it was awkward between them. Midori pretty much avoided him for a good week before they sat down and at least tried to talk about it. Mitsuo hadn’t really paid attention to what she was saying, he was too busy staring at her mouth and her eyes and her hair. Whatever she said became background noise. 

But they went back to normal after the first week. They went back to their normal banter, picking up Amias off the floor when he fell asleep next to the toilet, ate together, went to his dad’s boxing ring to get out a few pent-up punches. Mitsuo would be lying if he said he wasn’t looking forward to wrestling with her inside of the ring--her panting, excitement in her eyes, and sweat on her skin was enough to make him stare.

He was crazy about her. He wasn’t going to deny it. 

So the second time they kissed, he made sure it had nothing to do with drugs. They had just finished a small round within the ring--his father had let them come in after hours to get access to one of the rings. Midori had put a pretty good fight, his left ear was still ringing from where she hit him. 

Still sweaty, out of breath, and pink in the face, Midori held out a hand for him to take once she removed her glove, “Here.” 

She seemed smug that she managed to knock him off his feet, but he took it nonetheless. Deciding to use this to his advantage, Mitsuo pulled her towards his chest. “Don’t get cocky.” 

“I’m not cocky,” she smiled up at him, though, “You should work on your defense more.” 

“Yeah, yeah,” he rolled his eyes. But when she turned away to go back to her corner, MItsuo was quick to grab her arm, pulling her back to him. Without hesitation, he dipped his head. Their lips met slowly, she smelled like sweat and that flowery shampoo she put in her hair. 

When he pulled back, she was blinking at him, “Mitty--” 

“Too much?”

“No, it’s fine...” She was still staring at him. Almost curiously, she tilted her chin up towards him and they kissed again. It was easy to lose himself in her, hands moving with a mind of their own and touching the bare skin of her waist. When their kiss deepened, Mitsuo knew he wouldn’t be able to get enough of her. 

. 

. 

His parents loved Midori. 

She was really the only reason that they let Mitsuo come around half of the time. Mostly because his sister and his father loved her cooking, and Midori and his sister liked to run upstairs to talk about whatever. 

“You look good,” his father suddenly said from across the table.

Mitty blinked. “Huh?” 

“Your eyes. Look clearer.” 

They probably did--he hadn’t had anything for...shit, how long had it been? A week? Maybe. Him and Midori had just been enjoying each others company for the last few days, so drugs hadn’t really crossed his mind. That was a little surprising, actually, now that he thought about it. Though, unlike him, Midori wasn’t addicted to the shit either. 

In reply, he shrugged, “Yeah.” 

“She’s good for you.” His dad kept going. 

“Maybe.” 

“You should keep her. I like her.” 

“You just like her cooking.” 

For the first time in a long time, his father smiled at him--dark eyes crinkling and wrinkles deepening in his face, “You got me there.” 

. 

.

He remembered the first time he scared her. 

He had a bad day--he couldn’t really remember what happened, but he was pretty pissed. They screamed at each other on the phone until Mitsuo decided to hang up on her. And when she came over to confront him, they screamed at each other some more. Good thing Amias wasn’t there or he would’ve kicked both Mitsuo and Midori out. 

He couldn’t remember why they were arguing. He didn’t want to fucking remember. All he knew was that she made him want to rip his hair out at that moment. He wanted to hit something, someone, anything. 

He did. Luckily, the punch had missed her completely and had sunk into the wall, into the space right next to her head. She jumped. There was a long pause between them, eyes finding each others--hers frightened. Did he look the same? He wasn’t sure. 

She bandaged his hand for him that night. She said she was sorry. He wanted to tell her that there was no reason for her to be sorry--it was his fault, it was all his fault, he was a huge fuckup, he was a piece of shit, he took too much, he wasn’t a good person. 

She kissed him. She kissed his bandaged hand. She looked like she was going to cry. 

Mitsuo didn’t think it was possible, but he was starting to hate himself even more. 

. 

.

“You and Midori...” 

Mitsuo looked up, blowing out the smoke from his cigarette. His brother, Amias, stood beside him. He was looking right back at Mitsuo, “Yeah, what about her?” 

“You guys serious?” 

Were they? Mitsuo decided to shrug. 

Amias raised a brow, “That’s not a good sign.” 

Inhaling from his cigarette, Mitsuo replied, “All I know is that I want her. And I know she wants me.” 

. 

. 

She slapped him when he missed her recital. Then they were back to arguing. He didn’t see what the big deal was, and when he said that outloud, she looked like she was close to breaking into tears. She said she had told him about it for the last few weeks, she told him that she had said how important it was to her, she told him he was an asshole. 

Had she told him about it? He didn’t know. The last few weeks hadn’t been good weeks. 

When he raised his voice towards her, cursed at her, called her out of her name, she started to cry. And so, Mitsuo held her to him, and promised he would come to her next recital. 

He ended up breaking that promise. 

.

.

The first time they had sex, he was relieved to know she wasn’t a virgin. Though, even then, he tried his best to be gentle. He didn’t think he ever had sex with someone that he actually cared about. She kissed him a lot, she made a lot of noises, said a lot of blabber that didn’t make sense, and bit him pretty hard on his shoulder.

Afterwards, she fell asleep. He didn’t. He probably stared at her for too long, touched her too much, brushing her hair behind her ear and over her shoulder, kissing her neck and cheek while she slept. Interlaced his fingers with hers just to see the difference between their hands. 

He didn’t deserve her.

It felt like a sin to love her. 

.

.

Over the next few months, Amias got worst. He destroyed stuff around the apartment, he yelled at people, he brought random people back to fuck who just did the same shit as him. Mitsuo couldn’t really bring himself to care--he knew his brother inside and out, and he knew he wasn’t the type of guy to talk things out. 

Wasn’t like Mitsuo himself was much better. 

He could tell Midori was worried though. She even confessed once that Amias scared her a bit. “I just...” She trailed off, hesitantly peeking at him as she fiddled with his hand, which was placed securely on her thigh. “I just don’t want you to end up like him.” 

Neither did he. But it didn’t seem like there was much that could keep it from happening.

. 

.

“Hey.”

Midori lifted her head, which was resting on his chest. They laid in Mitsuo’s bed together, his fingers in her hair. “Hm?”

He paused, “Do you love me?” 

Midori looked surprised at the question, but it didn’t take her long to answer, “Of course.” He stayed quiet again, studying a strand of her blonde hair with interest. It was soft, and getting longer. She would probably have to get it cut soon. “Why’re you asking all of a sudden?” 

He released a long sigh, getting that familiar itch. Too bad he was out of pills for the week. He would have to call Yousuke and get another bottle. Midori made it look so easy, like she could go weeks without even touching a drink or a pill. “No reason.” 

“Mitty.” 

Mitsuo looked back at her, seeing the curiosity in her eyes. Yeah, it was pretty weird for him to ask stuff like that out of the blue. “I just...just promise me something, yeah?” 

“Sure.” 

“Don’t leave me, okay?” 

“...Okay.” 

.

.

Mitsuo slammed the door behind him, chest heaving and fists clenched by his sides. Amias, sitting on their old couch, looked up. When he saw the rage on Mitsuo’s face, his lips immediately kicked into a smile, “What’s gotten into you?” 

He had obviously been in the middle of something. Three white, thin lines were on the glass table that Midori had picked out for them a few weeks ago. Mitsuo’s eyes narrowed, walking over with three wide steps, crouching down, and sniffing up one of the lines without hesitation. 

“Hey!” Amias was pissed, but Mitsuo couldn’t bring himself to care. “What the fuck is your problem?”

“Midori.” 

“Well, take it out on her, not me, shit-head!” Mitsuo didn’t reply, opting to sit down on the couch instead. His brother snorted up the rest of the lines, lips pressed in a firm line. He flicked his hand across his nose a couple times before relaxing, “Alright, fine, what’s wrong, baby brother?”

“Midori.”

“Yeah, I got that part. Be more specific.” 

“You know that school she’s been trying to get into for the last couple months?” 

“No, but I’m sure you’re gonna tell me about it.” 

“She fucking got in, Amias.” 

“Ain’t that a good thing?” 

“No!” Mitsuo snapped. His chest felt like it was on fire. Like he was going to burst any second. He hadn’t been this angry in such a long time, “No! It’s not! Do you have any idea how fucking far away that place is?” 

“No--” 

“What is she gonna do? Just go?!” Frustrated, he raked a hand through his hair, “Who the fuck does she think she is? Just leave me?! She’s just like everyone else! And she had the nerve to say she would visit on the weekends. Yeah--sure, fucking liar...fucking bitch...I loved her...I love her...” He was losing it--he knew he was. But there was no stopping himself now. It was a small part of himself that told him to gather his thoughts, think this through, stop freaking out like he did with everything, but Amias spoke up before he could. 

“Fuck her, then. Everyone always moves on to bigger and better things. Think they’re better than us.” 

Mitsuo stayed quiet, hands shaking. His breathing had calmed down for now. “She can’t leave. She can’t.” 

She wasn’t like everyone else. She promised. She promised me. She couldn’t leave--she couldn’t.

Amias didn’t say anything, instead taking a swig of the flat beer that was on the end table. Mitsuo stayed where he was, jittery and anxious. His eyes flickered all over the place before they landed on something in particular. 

Midori’s bag. She carried the thing everywhere. She’d probably forgotten it, she seemed to be pretty distracted ever since she sent off applications for the school. Mitsuo stared at it for a few seconds longer. 

Fuck. 

With ice in his stomach, and Amias watching him, Mitsuo grabbed up her bag and went to his room. 

. 

.