Betrayal In Its Most Simplest Forms
(I heard some people can't understand some of the Japanese words I use. I won't stop using them, because I want to still fix in that Japanese background to Kuroko. He's polite, and sometimes using the Japanese words gives more emotion than regular English words. There is a translation at the bottom, though, if no one knows what they mean).
"Tetsuya," a voice hissed. "Tetsuya, wake up. Tetsu!" A sudden jerk had Kuroko snapping his eyes open and defensively sitting up. A sore ache spread throughout his body. "Careful." A pair of hands pushed gently on his shoulders. He slowly lied back down with a wince. "You don't want to re-injure yourself. Just rest."
Kuroko turned his head slightly, recognizing the soft-spoken voice. It took him a while to clear his blurry vision. "Otou-san?" he tried to say, but with his lips so chapped and his throat very dry, his words came out scratchy and quiet.
The anxious man sitting next to the bed broke into a small smile. He also had teal-colored hair, but his eyes were a deep brown. Despite his son's short stature, he was decently tall with pale skin. However, instead of a cold, unforgiving face, the man held a soft, worried expression for his injured son. Tears came to his shining brown eyes.
"Thank goodness," Haru, Kuroko's father, whispered. "You're all right." Kuroko watched as his father knelt down gently on the floor and take him into a comforting embrace, mindful of his injuries. The shorter male, ignoring the pain, slowly wrapped his arms around his father's thin body. "I'm sorry, Tetsu," Haru whispered. Kuroko could feel wet droplets matting his hair.
"Why are you apologizing, Otou-san?" he let go of his father and looked straight into his eyes, "It's not your fault."
Haru shook his head. "It is, Tetsuya. I married that monster, and I can't do anything about it. She would take you for custody if I divorced her, and that I can't take." His father took a shuddering breath and put a hand over his face with a chuckle. "Look at me, a grown-man crying. I shouldn't be crying. You're the one who's taking the pain." Haru looked up and reached out a hand. He flinched when Kuroko automatically started to recoil, but his hand kept going until it reached his son's hair. He caressed the soft, blue locks. "I'm sorry, Tetsuya," Haru whispered once more.
"Please stop, Otou-san." Kuroko took his father's hand in his, gripping tightly. "It's not your fault. Please don't burden all of my pains onto yourself." He hesitated before asking, "Is Okaa-san home?"
Haru shook his head. "She left awhile ago. It gave me time to wrap your injuries." His father looked at the bandages around Kuroko's body. "Does it hurt a lot?" came the agonized question. Kuroko didn't answer as his father joined him on his bed and gently pushed his small body against his large frame. In fact, the fragile boy welcomed it as he leaned his head on his father's chest and grabbed the stiff, button-down shirt Kuroko knew his father only wore when on business meetings. "Don't hold it in, Tetsu. I know it hurts. Let it out."
Kuroko only buried his face more into his father's shirt and laid still.
Father and son stayed like that for what seemed like hours, both desperately wishing for time to stop.
"Don't go anywhere, okay?" Haru fixed the covers over Kuroko's body. "I'll be right back. I'm locking your room from the outside with the key. If your mother comes home, do not open the door. Just stay quiet and act as if you're not there, no matter what she says. You have my phone number, so make sure to call me if something bad happens. And . . . ." Haru hesitated, but said, "I don't care how much you respect your mother or how weak you think you are. If she somehow comes into this room to hurt you, you fight back. You hear me, Tetsuya? Fight back."
"Hai, Otou-san," came Kuroko's quiet response.
Haru gave a satisfied nod, knowing his polite son would not disobey him. "I'll be going now. Don't hesitate to call me, Tetsu. I'll always pick up." He gave his son a swift kiss to the forehead before heading out, making sure to securely lock Kuroko's room with the key.
Kuroko listened for the door slam before visibly relaxing against the headboard. Finally given the chance, he looked around his surroundings. He realized he was in his room, and that his father must have carried him there after arguing with his mother. The walls were a light blue, matching the color of the soft carpet. The room was simple, as expected from Kuroko. The bed he was lying on was set in one corner while a wooden desk and a chair accompanied beside him. A random basketball sat under the desk. His school bag rested near the door, and a small walk-in closet settled across from his bed.
Kuroko gave an inaudible sigh and looked at his phone, which had all his practice dates. He winced when he saw there was another afternoon practice today. "How do I explain this to them?" the injured teen asked quietly to himself. He decided to call Kagami, just to make sure they didn't think he was ditching practice. With the Kaijou game coming up, they're going to be mad, Kuroko thought sullenly.
"Hello?" Kagami's rough voice came through the line. "That you, Kuroko?"
"Hai," Kuroko answered politely. But before he could say anything else, Kagami's questions interrupted him:
"Where are you? You're late, and I'm getting blamed on because of you! Don't tell me you're skipping. We have a game with Kaijou, soon! Oi, Kuroko, are you listening? Get your ass here, now!"
"I'm sorry, Kagami-kun, but I can't come, today."
"What? Why not?"
"I am . . . sick, Kagami-kun. I won't be able to come to practice for a few days."
There was a silence of disbelief. "You were fine, earlier, Kuroko! Does this have to do with coming over to your house? Some of us were just joking, you know—"
"No, it does not have to do with coming over to my house. I just caught a cold. I'm sorry for the inconvenience." Kuroko gave a small bow, even though no one could see him. When Kagami didn't answered for a long time, he asked warily, ". . . Kagami-kun? Could you please tell Riko-san about my condition?"
Kagami blew a long sigh through the phone. "Yeah. Sure. Get better, okay?"
"Yes," the polite boy said, and then hung up before anymore was said.
"Kuroko won't be able to make it," Kagami announced loudly. "He's sick."
The sound of basketballs slapping the gym floor stopped. Heads turned. Expressions turned into disbelief. Movements froze.
"Kuroko's . . . sick?" Hyuuga asked.
Kagami held up his red phone and waved it. "That's what he just said."
"But he was fine earlier!" Koganei protested.
"Are you sure it just isn't an excuse?" Teppei asked.
"If it is an excuse, I'll beat him up," Riko said darkly.
The tall red-head shrugged. "He just told me to pass on the message. Nothing else." He bent down and picked up a rolling basketball. The ball was passed back and forth between his hands before he threw the basketball with all his power against the wall. No one commented on the small dent. "Damn it, Kuroko," Kagami muttered, breathing hard. "What the hell are you hiding?"
Otou-san = Formal way of saying "Father"
Okaa-san = Formal way of saying "Mother"
Hai = "Yes" or a confirmation of another statement