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mothgrudge · 1 year ago

Text

reminiscing

(wow some “official” writing this is surprising)

wip: main family

character(s): nazam “naz” & anzu takuma (mentions of yarrah, mashiro, and mai)

tw(s): deadname mention, eating disorder, suicidal thoughts/ideation, body dysmorphia

a short walk through memory lane from naz’s perspective of life before he and anzu got together. there is a happy ending here we promise 😭💙

general to know: anzu was adopted by red and tsubame takuma when he was in high school from his abusive/neglectful parents—making mai and mashiro his adopted siblings. the story begins when anzu is still with his family and time skips around throughout he and naz’s life.

(also this is in 2nd person! naz is the narrator ‘you’ refers to anzu :3)

We first met in elementary school. First grade.

My older sister dropped me off. You came by yourself.

Both of us sat at the back of the classroom.

During recess you didn’t talk to anyone. You stayed by yourself in the sandbox and I stayed by myself in the classroom, with my book. I didn’t focus on it. I focused on watching you drag your shovel through the sand and stare longingly after the other children playing. You put your head down. So did I.

I think that was where it started.

People left me alone because I was quiet. I was weird. I always scored high on math tests and read computer textbooks I stole from my sister when we weren’t working on class projects. I stared the teacher down until she moved on from asking me to read aloud. She tried asking my parents about the books I read, and my father insisted I didn’t know how to read, it was her job to teach me. She asked me to read a sentence. I didn’t say a word. My father took it as proof. She seemed disappointed in me.

People bothered you because you were quiet. You came to school sometimes with bruises, and created your own through many fights on the playground. The teacher tried to call your parents in, and sometimes I would stall going home to see if they’d show up.

They didn’t.

The first time we spoke was a group project in 5th grade. I’d been watching you for a few years, but I was too shy to talk to you. You didn’t seem like you wanted to be bothered with the project anyway. I resigned myself to doing all the work in your stead, if it meant the teacher would stop pulling you aside to talk about ‘your grades.’ But you looked at me, with a look I’d never really seen before.

“What’s your name?” You asked. I hesitated. “... Naz… ara… Nazara.” I hated my name. “Nazara.” You repeated. I loved it. “Anzu. You ever go by Naz?”

I hadn’t, until you asked. And then that was the only thing I ever let anyone call me.

After the project we didn’t interact much. When I came into class, you’d give me a small quirk of your lips I suspected was a smile, but you always kept your head down and in response so did I. I didn’t smile much— I still don’t— but I always tried to make eye contact when I saw you come in late. You got into more fights, I read more computer books, and moved my interest towards differential equations and physics theorems, all books I stole from Yarrah. There wasn’t really any reason I should’ve understood it, but I did. I hid the books from our teachers. Once, you hid one for me. One of your usual offenders walked by and pushed my book into the middle of the floor during quiet time. I knew it was on purpose. You were getting stronger, he needed others to pick on. It was testing the waters. To see how weak I was. The thump of it on the floor was deafening. Everyone turned to look. Our teacher came over, and frozen, I stared at her. You saw my panic. You kicked the book under the bookshelf and hid it from view.

“What’s going on?” She asked. I said nothing. You said nothing. The bully said nothing. She clicked her tongue, and walked away.

You got into a fight with that bully at recess. I wish I would’ve stepped up to wipe your bloody nose.

💙💙💙💙

Middle school is when things started to change. Not between us. But for me.

We moved that summer to a town a few miles over. I never got to say goodbye. But the thought of never seeing you again made me throw up everything I ate. I did it in secret. No one knew. Yarrah caught me once, but I told her I just wasn’t feeling good. She told me to get more sun. I said I would. But the whole summer I spent glued to our family computer. I used my father’s card to buy myself spare parts, and he never noticed. I finished my first home-built PC by the time the first week of my new school should’ve been.

But turns out my parents never enrolled me. They were out of the country, and I guess they forgot. I took it upon myself to enroll myself at our old neighborhood middle school. Where I thought you would go. It was a walk to get there. Six and a half miles. I woke up at 4am every morning to get there. I walked alone. I didn’t eat. My reward was seeing you that first day I finally came to school, sitting at the back of the classroom, with your hood up and phone in hand. The tight feeling in my chest finally subsided.

“Naz,” You greeted me when I sat in the back desk next to you. “I didn’t know you had this class.”

“My parents enrolled me late.” I whispered. You hummed, understanding.

At lunch I went to the library and took a nap. I dragged myself awake at the bell. This became my routine.

💙💙💙💙

I grew skinnier. My hair began to thin out. I started wearing a beanie to school, and big bulky sweaters to hide my thin arms. I hid out every gym, behind the bleachers so they couldn’t see me. But I got to see you. You were getting taller now, and your shoulders got more broad. There was a day in gym that you all played dodgeball, and seeing you throw, I thought about being in your arms.

I threw up again after class.

We had one group project together in seventh grade, and you greeted me every day when you came to class with a small nod. That was enough, I thought. I made it be. I didn’t feel like I deserved anything more— with how I looked, with how I felt. I hated Nazara more and more with every passing day. The worst of it came on field trip day.

To the aquarium. I forged my parents signature, and I was sure you forged yours too. I sat in the back of the bus, and I thought you would too. I was almost excited. I wasn’t expecting someone to cheerfully call, “Anzu!” when you stepped on the bus.

You looked just as surprised too.

The person who called had pink hair. Their skin was pretty and dark brown. They looked bright and full of life, and their energy was contagious. You couldn’t see anywhere else to sit. You dropped down next to them near the front of the bus.

I stayed alone in the back, fidgeting with the hem of my shirt.

I don’t remember passing out.

💙💙💙💙

“Nazara. Stop being difficult.” The social worker frowned at me. I stared back at him impassively. “If someone has been neglecting you at home, we need to know that.” I didn’t say anything. After my week long coma after passing out on the bus, the doctors had been trying desperately to get something out of me. They wouldn’t believe me if I told them I did it to myself. I didn’t want to be Nazara. I didn’t want to be anything.

The social worker knew he wasn’t getting through to me. He sighed, and stood up. “Please try to eat at least something today, Nazara.”

He left.

💙💙💙💙

I hope you would become good friends with Mashiro. I hoped you would be happier.

💙💙💙💙

“Your child has fucking anorexia, and all you can care about is your business trip!” I heard Yarrah yelling at my father over the phone. It was a few weeks after I was discharged from the hospital. They diagnosed me, enrolled me in therapy sessions, and had a social worker come by every week to see how I was doing. But the diagnosis didn’t help. It felt like things were better when I ignored it. When I walked six miles to school, when I saw you in class, when I pretended that the budding shapes on my chest and the thinness of my arms weren’t there.

I put my pillow over my face. I wanted to shut everything out.

💙💙💙💙

You came by once. Out of the blue. I don’t think you meant to.

It had been… three years at this point. I should’ve been in 10th grade, with you. My neighborhood was in the same zone as the local high school, I could’ve ridden the bus instead of walking all that way to you. I think it’d been a year since I’d really been outside. I stayed in my room, in my empty house. I took my medicine. I had zoom calls with my therapist. I read computer engineering books. I built PCs, then took them apart. I bought things on Amazon with my dad’s money. I talked on and off with Yarrah. I never answered the door. Ever. I tried once. After I was pulled out of middle school. The postman’s disgusted look was all I needed to never try again.

But I’m not sure what compelled me today.

Maybe I was excited about my package coming, a new motherboard for my latest build. Maybe, I was starting to gain weight again after learning about being transgender. Maybe, for once, I felt good.

Maybe it was fate.

I crossed the darkened hall, I opened the door. I came face to face with a bright, beaming, pink face.

“Hi! My name’s Mashiro Takuma! This is—”

“—Anzu.” You said. You looked awkward, but maybe fond. “We’re helping my sister look for her lost cat. She got out the other day.” Mashiro handed me a flyer, and I studied it carefully. MEDUSA it read in bold letters, with the picture of a sleek, tiny legged black cat. It had big green eyes, that stared up at me from the flyer innocently. “Have you seen her at all?”

“I don’t leave the house much.” I said, shrugging.

“Oh…” Mashiro’s energy wilted. I felt my face pull into a frown. “My sister gets around town a lot, though.” I tried to amend. “When she comes home from work, I’ll ask her.” His beam: restored. You smiled behind him, mouthing ‘thank you.’ I tried to smile back.

“Well, if she’s heard anything, you can contact me here.” Mashiro directed my eyes to the bottom of the flyer where a host of contact numbers were recorded. There was a Red Takuma, Tsubame Takuma, Mashiro Takuma and Anzu. No last name. I nodded slowly. I carefully tucked the flyer under my arm.

“All of her favorite foods and some tips on coaxing her inside are on the back, so if you see her, please, do your best!” Mashiro gave me a cheerful thumbs up, and I laughed. Softly. I couldn’t remember when the last time I laughed was.

“I’ll try.” I promised. And then with a wave, the two of you were off. I held the door open until I saw you all disappear around the bend of the next street, then slowly let the door fall shut. I stared down at the flyer from the safety of my room. I didn’t wait. I called Yarrah. Turns out she had seen the cat. She was friendly, and hiding behind the building she worked at. It was easy enough to take her in.

I didn’t go when she returned Medusa to you all. I was still too scared to face the world.

💙💙💙💙

May. You and Mashiro should be graduating now.

I stared out of the window of Yarrah’s apartment, my head pillowed in far too many cushions. The surgery went well. I was discharged yesterday. I looked down at the bandages and gauze that protected my vulnerably flat chest. Even if everything was sore, and a bit tight, my chest felt light, physically and metaphorically.

“Naz!” Yarrah burst into the room, bringing something warm and good smelling with her. Soup, probably. Maybe curry. She rested it down in front of me, ruffling my hair. “Make sure you finish at least half.”

“I’ll try.” I meant it. “Once this heals up, we’re gonna take you to get your name change, okay?”

“Thank you Ra. … I mean it.”

“I’m your sister.” She shrugged. “It’s what I do.” We already went over the argument a million times that she didn’t have to, I could see the flames in her eyes, ready to pounce if I tried it. I ceded, bowing my head. “Thank you.” I said instead, quietly. She left only a few minutes after. Running down to the store, I think. I closed my eyes. I dreamed of you.

💙💙💙💙

I stopped by a grocery store, just to grab something quick. I had a long stretch of contract requirements I needed to get on tonight, or my boss would have my ass. But I was slowly learning to fuel myself while I did it.

I wasn’t expecting to see you there.

You’d grown. So much. You were two or three heads taller than me, more filled out than before. The hoodie you wore fit snug around your arms, your jeans were tight and fit well. Your eyes were bright; brighter than I ever remembered seeing them when we were young. A pair of blue beats rested around your neck and you had a sleek phone pressed against your ear.

“— tell Mai I’m almost done getting the ingredients.” You were saying. “I can’t find the red velvet cake they want.” I glanced at my basket. The last slice of red velvet cake stared up at me.

Talk to them. My brain said.

I can’t.

“Shiro, don’t you start whining too!” You laughed. That was the first time I really heard your laugh up close and my heart burst.

“Alright, I’ll see you soon. Ja!” You ended the call just as I turned on my heel, leaving the cake next to your basket. Even if that was all I could do… it was enough. It would be enough.

“Oh, hey, you don’t have to do that.” I felt a hand rest on my shoulder; with nails painted black and silver rings adorning it’s long fingers. My heart jackhammered against my chest.

“It’s fine.” I cleared my throat. “I probably wouldn’t finish it anyway.” I racked my brain from what I remembered. “And that’s Mai’s favorite, right?”

“Yeah, but how did you…”

I glanced at you over my shoulder and your words died in your throat.

I smiled. “Don’t worry about it.”

“Naz?”

My heart nearly stopped. I stared at you, wide-eyed. I never… never thought…

Your face lit up in a grin.

“Is that you? Wow, it’s been awhile. How have you been?”

“I… I’ve been…” I searched for words, still trying to shake off my shock. I angled my body to face you completely.

“I’ve been okay— better, than before I guess.” I chuckled, dryly. “You look good though, Anzu.” My tongue felt too big for my mouth. When was the last time I talked this much? To my therapist maybe. “I feel good.” Your voice went soft, warm. My chest bloomed. “I’m so glad.” I said back.

A silence drifted over us, an inevitable one. We never spoke much when we were young, and then I vanished. I wasn’t supposing there was much left to talk about. “I hope they enjoy the cake—“

“Can we meet up sometime?” You said, fast. Your expression was almost panicked, as though you were afraid of something. Of me saying no? Never to you. Ever.

“Sure,” I tried for flippant, but my voice was too fond. “But um.” I gestured vaguely towards myself. “It’s Nazam. Now. Um.” My voice got caught in my throat. I cleared it. “Not Nazara.” I wasn’t sure if you’d catch my meaning. You did. You smiled in relief.

“Nazam.” You repeated. You took my hands in yours. “Nazam. It suits you” I ducked my head, feeling my cheeks begin to flush. I coughed softly. “W-When did you want to meet?”

💙💙💙💙

I traced my fingers across the scatter of tattoos on your arms. The dawn had barely begun to peak over the horizon, and everything in our house was still covered in boxes. The only thing we’d bothered to unpack was maybe a quarter of our room, the bed at the very least so we could have somewhere to sleep. You murmured something, then turned towards me, pulling me tight against your chest.

“You up?” You murmured.

“Unfortunately.” I whispered back. You pressed your lips soft against my head.

“Go back to sleep, clover. We can unpack your precious gadgets tomorrow.”

“I guess I can survive until then.” I chuckled, and your soft, sleep-laden laugh rumbled against my cheek. I traced my fingers over your lips.

“I love you, Anz.” Soft. Even with your eyes closed, you smiled. “I love you too, Naz.”

The hole in my ribs finally closed. I buried into you and let your breathing soothe me back to sleep.

#main family #writing #these two make us extremely emo i hope y’all feel the same way #nazam takuma #anzu takuma

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