a / n ; some quick thing, if my usual 1k/2k word count bothers you, it’s just the way i write. glimpses and all that. it won’t change as long as my approach is still light romantic(?) progress and soft angst.

- - -

H I S
H U B R I S

"You might want to wake up."

Mel pursed her lips before she could let something inappropriate slip through it by pure accident.

"I’m not going to school today."

Mr. Shinatobe rose a skeptical eyebrow to his daughter, a huff settling itself on his exterior. Glancing towards the calendar against the walls, he turned to look back at the child he beared.

"Seems like you can’t even look at a calendar properly. It’s Friday and your day off from school is merely the day after."

"Oh trust me, Dad, I know what day it is. I’m not actively oblivious and passive to everything just like you are," Mel replied, shutting one eye from the blinding light, "Kindly step out of the bedroom, please. I know it’s your house and I am not going to refer it as mine."

"Your blatant charade of disrespect astounds me. Not only have you brought such a sin to this household, you dare act like the victim — "

A sneer fixed itself on Mel’s face, tired of the banter and the hypocrisy, "Last time I checked I was the victim."

"What happened may have been explicit, but it’s your fault as well as the other. Quit acting like it was only your life ruined."

"Why do you keep bringing that up? It’s done and it’s over!"

Honestly, the way her father insists on surfacing that topic, you’d think he was the one most affected and then show off that he was oh-so-disappointed with big fancy words. It hit Mel like a tidal wave, but it’s done now. The damage has not been fixed but left alone. It’s okay entirely and people should start forgetting that it ever happened. Gods, it’s been years! Why couldn’t they just move on?

And oh, she knew perfectly well that it wasn’t only herself that was affected by what has happened before. The other person involved completely fell out with their family and she was lucky to some extent to have been accepted not too awfully yet still not too warmly. Mel no doubt understood that but that did not mean she did not harbor hate for the person involved other than she. Trust her, they were perfectly loathed. While her family had been rather “accepting”, they claimed her at fault for something she did not have a say nor a control to. Deeming that she was a preposterous lady for having let that happen, ruining another person’s life because of her lack of control — where was the justice? She didn’t get that, but she let it go. There was no point on hanging on awful, awful things from before and keep on reminiscing what was hopeless.

A grunt escaped her throat and she wondered why she still holed herself up in the place her parents called home.

It wasn’t “home” anymore. It was just another place.

Home secured and protected. It was the feeling surging through you in a sudden wave of joy, the whimper that escapes your chest in a moment of beckoning and the crinkle in one’s eyes as they smiled free of faux.

This was nowhere near that. Here, it’s like being cautious as if someone would suddenly start to pounce on you. Like the shallow breaths that begin to pour out your throat in the act of being suffocated, your fingers cluthing to the blankets in an attempt to hold on, and seeing your scarred figure from the mirror of the bathroom as you slowly see the glass break.

It was prison with newly washed walls and grandeur chandeliers hanging from the ceilings. A cell equivalent to the bedroom she was thrown into with the bed being extra comfortable and the lights somewhat golden. A confinement sugar-coated.

Maybe it wasn’t so bad, that maybe it was just her exaggerating and overreacting, but it should (should it?) matter, at least.

What a truly sickening place home was, she realized.

- - -

Parents were the good people, Mel knows, even though the asshole front from her fatherly figure was very much evident. Well, sure, at times they were irritating and to an extent infuriating, but you’re supposed to love and understand them as much as you can, anyways. Mel found affection odd, maybe her parents’ demeanor was supposed to be touching? She had no idea. The best she could do is counter their attitude with the same levels. If it had to be a debate on what she was doing with her life, why not argue with them. It seems to work out rather well.

Overall it was frustrating, Mel concludes.

Oh and her father was ridiculous too. She was going to be “late” but it was roughly four in the morning. Absolutely, utterly, ridiculous. This was one of the reasons why she had always preferred her mother waking her up. She actually reads the clock. Her father probably thinks the calendar has some automatic time on it or something.

Mel really needed coffee therapy. Her whole morning was instantly ruined with a few actions and she just really wanted a good drink to clear her head.

She tried not tripping on her way downstairs, but apparently that was too much to ask for. Not like she didn’t expect it, anyways. She didn’t bring her glasses with her because she was a little miffed still, she thought not wearing her glasses would make a statement to her father — she didn’t know what I’m-not-wearing-my-glasses-you-bought-for-me would mean in ‘pissed off at you and so I’m being petty language’ but it should mean something. It totally should. She didn’t wear her gloves too just because.

She passed by her parents sitting at the dining table by their usual places, and she blinked owlishly at both of them highlighting the fact that her glasses weren’t on before grabbing the coffee and the sugar, along with her mug to bring upstairs (she prefers black coffee and has a heater ready at her bedroom), because she was, of course, making some sort of statement. She ignored the fact that it was slightly heavy, just pissing her parents off equally would appease. The way her father’s left eyebrow would twitch and her mother sigh in exasperation was so worth it.

Mel was leaning on her bedroom wall waiting for the water to boil, the fact that her bedroom was inanely plain noticeable with only a few specks of gold — was that glitter? — and the rest covered in various dark shades. Didn’t matter, she thought it was easy enough on the eyes. Plus it was her occupying the room so if they didn’t want what it currently is, then it shouldn’t really bother them unless it was theirs, no?

The whistling noise the heater made finally reached Mel’s ears and she promptly turned it off while unplugging from the socket. She poured her mug that already had the coffee and sugar hot water then picked up the spoon from beside it to stir. The clang of the stirring was pleasing to the ears, Mel thinks, and she continued to stir longer than necessary because of it. She felt grown-up and independent stirring coffee during early mornings — it was like you were a responsible person that rises with the sun and stirring coffee while sitting on a rocking chair watching the sunrise from your veranda. It was a nice thought.

Mel brought the mug to her lips and found that the steam from the hot liquid directly met her eyes due to her lack of glasses. Mel’s eyes were very, very sensitive and she couldn’t sip properly. The steam covered her eyes and made it past her lids to come in forthright. Her eyes were swelled and there was just too much heat for her and she dropped the mug she was holding to the ground, shattering it to pieces.

Muttering a ‘shit’ under her breath she tried picking up a shard but ended up with a splinter. Right, she did not have her gloves on. Blood dripped down her finger and in an attempt to wipe it off she only caked her nail with the red liquid. It was kind of pretty for a while before it started hurting a bit.

She was sure that the breaking sound was heard downstairs as Mel heard her parents’ muffled snickers (they apparently tried to stifle them), and she felt like an idiot. Really, she was so stupid this morning and she’s definitely not gonna go to school because she was in an even worse mood right now and she might do something utterly idiotic like throw a book at her infuriating Biology professor.

Gods, she hated being petty.

- - -

Mel didn’t go to Tōō that day, yes, but she was hanging outside their front yard to feel some fresh air and calm her nerves. Though only a meager of irritation bypassed her features, she was somehow frustrated this morning. Her ring finger that was splintered earlier was covered with a band-aid and she still had no glasses or gloves for a statement — she could be subtly stubborn.

The birds didn’t chirp today, Mel noted, and it only added to the fact that it was really not her day. Nevertheless she leaned back on her chair to enjoy the cool atmosphere that brought solace to her senses and gradually, Mel started to feel herself drift off surrounded by the thinning fog and the noise of the bicycles tingling like a bell, squeaking of the shoes as the passerbys run, the slight scrape on the ground as the leaves fall ever-so-slowly and the way a deep baritone calls out ‘honey’ roughly like a son— what?

"— ney. Oi, honey. Is that your uniform now or something?"

Of course, it would continue to be a sad, sad day because who was she to kami anyways?

Aomine lazily slouched himself by their gate, enough that his usually frowning face could be seen. Mel sighed to herself and massaged her temples in a prayer of tolerating idiots and not snapping at them and not throwing them off the nearest cliff and not bumping their head against the walls. So, she pulled a neutral face and answered, "It’s my uniform at.. home." Hah. Home.

"Aa, so you gonna skive the whole class off?"

"Skive sounds better than skip. Props to you, blue. And yeah. If that’s what being absent from school means now, anyways."

"‘Blue’? I thought you were more creative than that or something."

Mel shrugged, "Can’t waste my creativity on you now, can I,"

"I’m totally worth the creativity, honey."

"You’re worth a dead fish." Mel murmured, low enough for her ears only so when Aomine asked what she said, she merely looked at him and leaned back on her chair.

"Huh, so I won’t have free milk today," it was humbling that Mel was regarded highly as a free-milk-giver, "Guess I better bug Ryō... maybe." The last part, Mel supposed, was a thought to himself said aloud, "Later, then."

Mel nodded, feeling a little light-headed. She yawned, spurting out some words that very closely sounded like, "Your voice was nice today."

Apparently Aomine hadn’t gotten too far and heard it — all could be told from that smug look in his half-lidded eyes.

Mel grunted though didn’t flush from embarrassment (she was used to suddenly saying stupid stuff like that that it didn’t unnerve her anymore and blushing sounded unnatural and all that stuff), but really, she thinks, today she probably met her daily quota of idiocy.

With all that said, though, she let tall, dark and blue walk away with a priggish air enough to choke, but she didn’t find it all that vexing anymore.