User:The Koromo/Descending Skies Snippets/Upcomings (in progress)

In the park a couple blocks away from Ryuumonbuchi High School, on an old, rusting metal park bench, in front of a brook that was placed firmly wedged between the park's trees rising wildly into the sky, Kazuo sat with his acoustic guitar, pluck discarded from in his hands, strumming a song silently. His father was, in a rare occurrence, actually at his place of working residence, and his mother was still getting over her last night's intoxication. Kiwa was sound asleep, hopefully, in her bed, dreaming of thoughts about God and freedom, away from the nightmare of her reality. God, what a miserable failure of a brother I am, Kazuo bemoaned mentally. He couldn't help himself, he couldn't help Koromo, he couldn't even help his little sister. The best he could do was keep Kiwa away from their father at any time he could...and concerning school, he could do nothing about that. You're a worthless fuck and you know it; end this shit NOW-

And so, to somehow find a way to compensate for the nothing he felt right now, just like he had felt for ninety-five percent of his life, he found an isolated area where he could play a song. He was in his safe place now; nothing would interrupt him, and nothing would shatter his train of thought. Not even thoughts of his father, whom cared only about degrading porn and hurting his children. Kazuo ground his teeth and forced that man's face out of his mind.

"Underneath the bridge, the tarp has sprung a leak, and the animals I've trapped, have all become my pets, and I'm-"

"Kazuo!"

FUCK!

Kazuo played the final note with an abrupt screech, startled thoroughly, and he recognized the voice of Koromo as he turned his head over to her. He smiled brokenly, as usual, but it was different this time; in the fact that something specifically had caused it. "Hey, Koromo," he said, "What's up?"

Koromo was in her short summer clothing, beads of sweat coursing down her forehead, a fan sticking out of her pocket. She grinned tinily. The summer heat sizzled, unrelenting in its grasp, and it was at that moment Kazuo realized the jeans he wore were probably too heavy for the occasion. The sound of the brook flowed peacefully behind the two friends.

Koromo spoke up, "Nothing. I just wanted to see how you were doing. You told Koromo you'd be at the park today...are you feeling alright lately?" Koromo knew the answer, but the question rolled out instinctively.

I'd feel a lot better if you didn't interrupt my goddamn song. The thought intruded negatively and violently, and Kazuo's left eye twitched madly. Why did his mind always manifest those thoughts? He forced another smile, then frowned. "Ah, not really. Well, not at all. Obviously. But it doesn't matter. It's not happening right now."

Koromo frowned. Kazuo was always dismissive of his mental state, and it hurt her to see him so broken like this, and he knew what his problem was; but he, time and time again, convinced himself that it didn't matter, because he thought that it was all hopeless in the end (for his future, at least. He believed in hope for the world around him, not in himself).  'Either way, I'll die, and wither, and rot' as he would say. Koromo almost hurt physically thinking about it. At the same moment of thinking about all of this, she spoke; "I am so sorry, Kazuo...are you feeling alright in the moment, at least?"

I'd be feeling a lot fucking happier if you GOT THE FUCK OUT OF HERE!

"I suppose so," Kazuo returned. Koromo was now by his side, sitting on the bench on the previously unoccupied space next to him. She was wearing spandex and a long, designed and patterned summer dress to cover her buttocks, and her hair was its same style; long as ever, flowing beautifully to her waist. Kazuo continued to speak. "He did it again last night, but it wasn't too bad. It didn't happen to Kiwa, and that's all that matters." I deserve the scars anyway; she doesn't.

"Kazuo...please..." Koromo hurt on the inside, devastated by his words and how he had always described what his father's wrath was like. Kazuo was helpless and frail, and he convinced himself he could do nothing to change that for himself.

"Can we please change the subject now?" Kazuo demanded perhaps too harshly, taking Koromo aback suddenly. Kazuo mentally scolded himself. You fucking moron; don't you be abrasive!

"Y-yes."

A minute passed by. Birds sung in the summer heat, sweat dropped, the brook streamed softly, branches snapped off trees. If you were silent enough, Kazuo bet you could even hear grass grow in this park. Suddenly Koromo asked him something.

"What was that song, and how do you play it?"

"That song?" Kazuo was surprised. No one he knew had ever asked him anything about his love for music in the past, with the exception of a rare occasion, let alone him playing music. "Oh. It's by Nirvana. It's quite simple really; only two chords, and just put the guitar in the drop C tuning. That's how I play it. Cobain's guitar was never in a perfect tuning, but he..."

Kazuo went off, and Koromo was confused but intrigued by the music lessons.