Chapter Text
It was a wintery morning, the heater making the living room feel like autumn despite the cold contrast just outside of the iced up windows. The smell of cinnamon became apparent, despite the lack of cause. Bringing a sense of familiarity to David. It reminded him of his cousin, Jake. And that sometimes, late at night– He could hear Jake calling out to him. It was further away when he took his medication, but it was a constant reminder of what they had and what was lost that night.
David knew he shouldn't bring up his old cousin, that was their household's weird rule. But he couldn't resist as it had been sitting on his mind for what felt like years, the pressure slowly building up over time. In his opinion – no one deserves to be forgotten. Even if there is a strange household rule saying otherwise. He spoke with hesitation, his words coming out slowly and building momentum. “Dad… I really miss my cousin, Jake. I know we're not supposed to talk about him but–” David was quickly cut off, the question disintegrating in real time.
Joseph peeked around the corner while doing the laundry, his face still noticeably wet from when he showered earlier that morning. “We don't mention that name in this household, Son.” He explained with a sigh. He had work in a few hours and was tired of reminding his son of a rule that he assumed was already set in stone. But then again, he couldn't blame David for being curious. He had to explain at some point, and the guilt was gnawing at his insides. It felt sickening knowing one day it would all be too much, but dwelling on something inevitable wasn't for the weak hearted.
“But Dad-” David cried out, he knew about the household rule, but never took it seriously because of its obscurity. I mean– it was just his cousin, right?
“No buts, son.” His father said firmly, going back to his previous task before David spoke. David never wanted to speak again. His expression visibly saddened as he looked towards the broken TV, displaying nothing but static, almost a visual representation of his mind.
*★.
David swung open the front door, rattling on its hinges in response as the cool air seeped in, filling his lungs. He had already told his father that he was going out for a walk, which was true for the most part. Except “random” walks don't usually have a particular destination. He stepped out onto the icy walkway, snow crunching under his feet as he made his way to the sidewalk. The sound resembled something similar to chewing on cornstarch.
He looked back at his house one last time before going on his “walk,” the familiarity bringing comfort. His dad had picked out this specific house for the willow trees that surrounded it. His gaze shifted back to the sidewalk along with his neck, nearly fast enough to get whiplash. He started walking, taking in the view. The trees, traffic lights, and a bright blue sky with a dark gradient would seem like the usual to most, but when you're on a walk it feels like magic happening in real time.
Watching other people live their lives feels like viewing your own in third person. It's strange to think about what others could be thinking and different perspectives.
*★.
He looked down from the mountain's peak, snow coating his shoulders like a jacket. He had been at his destination for somewhere close to three minutes before actually processing that he was already there. It was the one– the only place he would go every time things got bad. It was either that or his bathroom, which only worked late at night, when he thought no one was listening. It felt like it was him against the world, he didn't have a mother and doesn't remember having one at any point in time, therefore everyone viewed him in a different light. He remembered his dad ushering him back into the car when the whispers weren't quiet anymore. He tried to speak but nobody could hear, so he waited around for an answer to appear.
He never knew what happened to his mom, it was almost an unspoken rule not to talk about her. He saw his father's texts though, his mother's name was mishka. And it made him wonder just how much he didn't know and what was withheld from him. But there was no real way of telling when he kept it all inside his head. The cold weather made him shiver, his hand felt like ice, hesitating over the pepper spray stored in his waistband– then finally pulling his father's gun out of his belt loop.