Choromatsu isn't sure when his relationship with Osomatsu began to change.
Maybe it was around middle school, when the six of them were divided up in different classes, as per school regulations, and for the first time since forever his brothers and him knew what it felt like to spend an entire day without each other to prod and push around.
Or maybe it was in high school, when the differences in their personalities really made themselves known. When Choromatsu would stay up late in the evenings, diligently studying for tests and the (in hindsight completely wasted) cram school he was attending, while Osomatsu was content roaming the streets as if he was still 12, skipping detention and picking fights.
Or maybe, Choromatsu just didn't want to dwell on it. Maybe it was simply too painful to think too hard about.
And it didn't matter either.
All that matters is that one day, Choromatsu looked at his eldest brother, and realized he had no idea where the boy he shared his youth with went.
He is a very light sleeper, which is one of the reasons their futon arrangement is the way it is. Nighttime is one of the rare and only occasions where Jyushimatsu will go completely still, no movement nor sound. And Osomatsu sleeps like a log regardless of whether he had a few beers or not.
He used to anyway.
But by now, Choromatsu has stopped counting the times he was roused out of slumber, the room around them dark and filled with the sound of light snoring, by his brother's fidgeting. He cracks an eye open carefully, vision one big blur.
He can feel the warmth at his side leave him when Osomatsu carefully crawls out of the blankets, padding them down behind him to avoid the others from getting cold in a rare display of good brotherhood. His bare feet make little plopping sounds against the wood as he grabs his stray hoodie from the couch and leaves the room, a pack of cigarettes curled in one fist.
When he's sure his brother has left, Choromatsu exhales shakily, rolling over and staring at the now empty spot beside him. He thinks of when they were children. When one of them had a nightmare, the others had no choice but to be woken up and deal with it, usually ending in one big pile of warmth and comfort.
When had they stopped doing that?
Sometimes it takes a few hours for Osomatsu to come back. Sometimes he simply doesn't.
Choromatsu lies awake and stares at the ceiling, wondering if he should go and check.
But maybe he shouldn't. Maybe Osomatsu would think he's taking things too seriously again. That he's being a worrywart, or too overbearing. Maybe Osomatsu would tell him to mind his own business.
Maybe Osomatsu would tell him he didn't want Choromatsu's help.
The thought of such an outright rejection is more painful even than the unease eating its way through his gut, keeping him up while his heart hammers away. So Choromatsu rolls over instead, staring at Jyushimatsu's peaceful sleeping smile next to him and tries hard not to think about it.
He's not sure why Osomatsu thinks they don't notice. He's not really the most subtle guy around.
Quite the contrary, the oldest Matsuno sibling can't be described as anything besides loud and obnoxious. But then he goes quiet and starts fidgeting with his sleeves. He'll leave the room to seek solitude, where he is normally always demanding attention.
Choromatsu gets concerned.
He looks at the others and realizes it's not so much that they don't notice. It's that they don't do anything. The tense silence is filled with redundant noises. The missing brother is ignored. The empty space carefully turned a back upon.
And Choromatsu feels like screaming.
Why? Why doesn't anybody do anything? Why do they just pretend like Osomatsu is fine? Like they're all just fine?
He scratches his arms, traces white lines into pale skin. Why doesn't he do anything? He should say something.
Instead, he buries himself into his magazines. Denies what is clearly there in favor of pretend productivity. Osomatsu is an adult now. They are all adults. They should be able to take care of themselves.
Then why does Choromatsu still feel so guilty?
It was a bit too embarrassing to explain to Totty why he wanted to borrow his phone. Todomatsu would probably think he's looking at something dirty again, and Choromatsu simply couldn't deal with that right now.
Not when the previous nickname is still around.
So he goes to the library instead. They have computers anybody can use, and while the lack of privacy is a bit irking, there's no alternative he can think of. His fingers tremble slightly over the keys. There are a lot more sites about these kinds of things than Choromatsu thought there would be, and the churning in his gut is only getting worse.
He's clicking links and scrolling down list after list of 'warning signs', each one getting more alarming as he goes. Words like depression, apathy, self-harm... suicide.
Suddenly, he regrets coming in the first place.
With an odd feeling in his throat, he closes the pages, staring at the too-bright screen and wishing he is wrong.
Then he breathes deep and opens another tab.
When he comes home, it's still early afternoon. Their other brothers are nowhere to be seen, Osomatsu is lying on the floor by himself, one hand resting against his chin as he idly flicks through a manga.
The chance of finding a more convenient time soon is extremely small.
Choromatsu curls his fingers around the paper in his pocket, feels the edge cut into his thumb. "Osomatsu-nii-san?" His voice is shaking a bit so he clears his throat. His brother doesn't even look up to acknowledge him. "We need to talk."
Maybe it's the serious tone he's using, or maybe it's simply the fact that the two of them barely really speak anymore, that makes Osomatsu close the comic, sprawling on his back instead. "What is it now, Chorofapsky? Did Ichi rat me out again?"
"Rat about what?" The comment derails his train of thought and he almost smacks his brother preemptively right then and there, even if he's not sure what he has done wrong this time.
"Nothing, nothing," Osomatsu quickly interjects, waving a hand dismissively. "What's up?"
Choromatsu is seething, but decides to let it slide. If he doesn't go through with his original intention now, he might never do so.
So he trudges over instead, crouching down next to his brother's head and looking down at him. "Osomatsu-nii-san. Are you alright?"
For a few seconds, Osomatsu just blinks up at him with a neutral expression. "I'm fine," he says casually.
Choromatsu's mouth is turned down in his usual frown, and now his eyebrows follow suit. "No, I'm serious. Are you happy?"
They stare at each other some more, and Choromatsu can feel his face heat up, embarrassment seeping in as he tries not to bite his stupid tongue.
Then Osomatsu's face is splitting into a huge shit-eating grin and he brings one hand up to poke his brother in the cheek. "Aaah- Are you that worried about your dear onii-san?" Choromatsu draws back to avoid the poking finger, Osomatsu getting up to follow. And maybe hug him too, judging by that look on his face. "That's so cute. Why aren't you that cute more often!"
Choromatsu is huffing in irritation, grabbing his older brother by the wrist. Osomatsu just brings his other hand up to pat him on the head, grinning like an idiot. Choromatsu gets up quickly, hands fisted at his sides. "Stop it. I'm being serious!"
Osomatsu is too busy laughing at his indignant face, clutching his sides as if it physically hurts him. After a few moments of this, Choromatsu stomps out the room, throwing the door closed behind him a lot harder than necessary.
He finds the piece of paper in his pocket a few days later, crumpled and creased. The letters are slightly faded, but still readable.
The name and address of a nearby psychiatrist.
Choromatsu flattens it out, biting his lip as he stares at the text, before throwing it in a nearby trash bin.
There's a lot of stuff that bothers Ichimatsu.
He dislikes bright lights or loud noises. He dislikes crowds and social situations and getting too much attention put on him.
He even dislikes his brothers, sometimes. Or maybe, just one in particular?
Ichimatsu dislikes Karamatsu a lot.
The way Karamatsu dresses irks him, like he's always going to some kind of party that only he is invited too. He hates the way Karamatsu laughs at his own stupid speeches. He hates that way of talking too, as if anybody cares for long-winded explanations.
He resents the way Karamatsu walks, or sits, or carries himself. How he always turns away from people somehow. Or how he draws back when they reach out.
He can't stand the way Karamatsu smiles. Like it's been forced on his face. Like it's not even real.
Ichimatsu can't stand Karamatsu, because Karamatsu is so blatantly miserable, but nobody else seems to notice. And he doesn't know what to do about that.
Ichimatsu has categorized Karamatsu's behavior into two moods.
Sometimes, his brother is being painful for the sake of being painful. Because it makes the others laugh and Karamatsu is a lot of things if not dramatic. He enjoys the attention.
Maybe it's hard to get it any other way?
Todomatsu likes to poke fun at him when he acts like this, but in the end, the two of them are sitting against the wall making stupid faces at Totty's phone while he makes pictures. Ichimatsu tries not to stare at them, tries to tell himself it's not jealousy he's feeling. He doesn't care about those kinds of things.
Karamatsu can say something funny, genuinely funny, and Osomatsu will laugh and they'll share a glance, a look between them.
They probably think nobody notices, but they are idiots after all.
It's okay though. Ichimatsu doesn't mind at all. Because when Karamatsu laughs it's real and his frame relaxes, leaning into his older brother as if they are kids again.
It's the other times that bother him.
When Karamatsu is being painful because it is all he has left. Because he thinks it might keep his brothers from noticing the strain in his smile or the fatigue in his eyes.
When his hands are clenching at every word and he flinches when somebody addresses him. When he looks like he hates himself as much as his brothers sometimes pretend to hate him.
When all Ichimatsu wants to do is grab him by the scruff of his neck and push him into the wall, yell at his face to stop being such a pathetic idiot. He wants to yell at him to just speak his mind, to stop pretending to be fine with this, stop pretending they're not hurting him, stop pretending he's fine.
Karamatsu is not fine.
But instead, Ichimatsu does nothing. He sits back and slowly moves his hand through dark fur, tries to seek comfort in the feeling as he watches his brother pretend to be something he's not.
He finds a letter, once.
It's old and wrinkly and hard to read, but the hand-writing is unmistakably Karamatsu's.
He almost doesn't read it at first, thinking it's probably one of his shitty brother's inane poems. Then he catches a glance at the words and his blood runs cold.
Ichimatsu burns the letter after that, together with some other of shittymatsu's stuff for good measure.
At night, he lies awake and wonders where Karamatsu is going, to write a farewell letter like that. Maybe he's going to run away from home again, like he did a few times when they were back in high school?
But the words were a lot more final than that, a lot more permanent, and Ichimatsu tries not to consider the few letters he wrote himself, that sounded much the same. He's probably just reading too much into this.
Probably.
Then one night, Ichimatsu goes into the bathroom, and Karamatsu is there. It almost never happens that the two of them are alone in any room together, and something is on the tip of his tongue.
Maybe a question or maybe a scolding remark, something that tastes a bit like concern.
He swallows it down quickly and occupies himself with opening the medicine closet instead. There's not much in there, mom's painkillers and some stray pills for an upset stomach. And the pills Ichimatsu is supposed to take every evening, the ones that are supposed to keep him happy and functioning.
They fulfill their role reasonably well.
He reaches out to grab them, watching Karamatsu out of the corner of his eye as he's bend over the sink, distantly aware that something's wrong, something is-
His hand misses its target and bumps against the painkillers instead, knocking them out of the cabinet to hit the ground hard. The bottle makes a dull, plastic-like sound when it connects to the tile, not the clattering Ichimatsu was expecting.
It's empty.
Something settles in his gut then. Something heavy and chocking. Something that makes him turn slowly. He can't see Karamatsu's face, bend like he is.
Ichimatsu looks into the medicine cabinet every night. He knows the bottle was still half-full yesterday. He opens his mouth, tries to say something, but Karamatsu stops him.
"Don't." He raises his head and his eyes look distant, empty. "Just don't, Ichimatsu. I'm... I'm tired tonight." He is smiling but it's even more fake than all those other times.
It all comes back to him then.
The shaky hands and withered looks. The long sleeves hiding pale skin, hiding the inside of Karamatsu's elbow. The syringe he found in the trash once.
It all comes back to him, and Ichimatsu doesn't know what to say, how to respond.
So he doesn't say anything as he watches Karamatsu stumble his way to the bedroom.
He pushes against Karamatsu that night. Kicks at him under the blankets until his toes hurt.
Karamatsu doesn't wake up.
He's still sleeping the next morning and Choromatsu makes a comment about their brother's laziness. Ichimatsu has to resist the urge to scream at him. It's hours later, when he's sitting in the living room fidgeting with his sleeves, that he hears the sounds of shuffling from upstairs.
Ichimatsu had forgotten what pure relief felt like before then.
When Karamatsu enters he stares at him, at the whiteness of his face and the messy hair. At the way he deflects Osomatsu's comment at sleeping in so late. At the way he pats Jyushimatsu's head when he joins him at the table.
Entirely ready to start another round of play-pretend.
Ichimatsu swallows as he watches them. Maybe he should say something. Maybe he should-
Karamatsu locks his eyes on him. He still looks tired, Ichimatsu thinks.
So then again, maybe he shouldn't.
The beach is a very special place for him. It reminds Jyushimatsu of her smile and her voice. He still goes there every week at the same time, and maybe a tiny part of him hopes to see Homura there once more. A dark speck against the slate-gray sky, rain and wind fiercely coming down around her.
He clearly remembers a distant awareness that those cliffs are not a safe place to stand around on, but no concrete knowledge of what that means. Or maybe he had, but just wouldn't admit it.
Now he goes there and stares at the crashing waves, his feet sinking slightly into the sand. Homura is gone. Jyushimatsu hasn't seen her in forever now, sometimes he wonders if he ever will again. Writing letters is fun, but the inky words are scant consolation for having her here.
No, Homura is gone. And he wonders if the same thing will happen to Osomatsu soon.
He starts noticing it slowly, little things that hardly caught his attention before. They seem important now, because they were important to her.
He's not always so good at noticing stuff, but he knows Homura was sad. She was so very, very heartbreakingly sad. And maybe Jyushimatsu doesn't really understand how sad she was, maybe he never will. Her sadness was one that lingered, that didn't go away even when she laughed. Something he could see in her eyes and feel in her touch, even as she told him she loved him.
As she told him she was happy, fingers trembling against his skin.
And now it's Osomatsu who says it, a stray comment somewhere between the rice and soy sauce. "Of course I'm happy."
His chopsticks bump against the side of the bowl. The sound, soft and delicate, gets lost between the voices of his brothers around the table. Jyushimatsu looks at his oldest brother, and he sees her. He sees the same sadness that he saw in Homura. It scares him a little bit.
The next time he writes a letter to her, he mentions it. Jyushimatsu writes about baseball and the weather and the sea, and then he writes just a few lines about how sad he thinks Osomatsu is.
How it reminds him of her sadness, the one that didn't go away despite his jokes. He writes that he wants to know how to help Osomatsu-nii-san.
It takes a few days for him to get a reply, and in the meantime, he starts noticing more.
Homura didn't really like showing her arms to anyone. Osomatsu always wears long-sleeved shirts or hoodies. He doesn't come with them to the bathhouse as often anymore, but Karamatsu jokes their brother is just becoming even more of a slob.
Homura had a certain way of looking at things as if they were a little bit special. Jyushimatsu looks at things the same way. But for him, it is baseball fields and tasty food, and his brothers. For Homura, it was the cliffs and the train tracks at the station.
The same cliffs they met at. The same station she used to leave town.
Osomatsu sometimes looks at things in a similar way, Jyushimatsu notices, now that he is paying attention. At knives or really tall buildings. The look can't be described as anything else besides longing, and that scares him even more.
Homura says that sometimes people are just sad. Sometimes the world isn't such a fun place to be in.
She told this to him before and he didn't understand back then - just like he doesn't think he understands now. Not in the same way as her. Jyushimatsu thinks the world is a great place to be, with lots of things to see and do.
But he also thinks Homura doesn't see the same world he does. Osomatsu may not see the same world either, and that's an alarming thought.
Homura writes him that he can try to cheer Osomatsu up, that it's a nice thing that he wants to help, but that it isn't that simple either. She writes she is sorry, and that makes him a bit sad to read.
But he puts the letter in his little box, next to all the other ones, anyway. He writes back that he will do his 'bestest' to make Osomatsu-nii-san happy again, even if he has no clue how.
Jyushimatsu rakes his brain in the following days, trying to think of all the things Osomatsu likes. It's not nearly as easy as he thought it would be.
Osomatsu-nii-san enjoys going to the arcade or the casino, but Jyushimatsu spent his entire allowance already. Osomatsu enjoys reading manga, but that's a thing you do by yourself, not something he can help with.
Osomatsu enjoys locking himself in the bathroom and staying there for hours, only letting Karamatsu in. Or going on long walks he sometimes doesn't return from for hours. Jyushimatsu wouldn't know how to help with either of those.
So instead, he sits next to Osomatsu at the table and leans into him, grabs his hand where nobody else can see and squeezes gently. Osomatsu pats him and smiles.
Jyushimatsu isn't sure if this counts as 'cheering someone up' but it has to count for something.
A few months pass like that, with Jyushimatsu trying to do little things that will make Osomatsu smile, but always seeing the sadness return.
He's not stupid. He knows what Homura was going to do, just before they met. He wonders if his brother has thought about that too. When another letter arrives, it's a lot longer than the previous ones. Homura writes that she has been concerned for him.
Jyushimatsu has no idea why she would worry, when it is Osomatsu feeling sad, not him. Then she writes about the things she had been doing now. She writes about medicine and doctors. She writes that it's very hard but that she feels a little less sad lately. She writes that thinking about him helps a lot.
He smiles, it's a very nice thing of Homura to write. It makes him happy.
Then, at the very end, she mentions how maybe, some people need a little bit of help to be happy. It's not their fault, they just need a hand.
Maybe... Osomatsu needs a hand too?
It lingers in his mind for a few days after that, unsure where to even start. He thinks about bringing it up to some of the others, maybe Karamatsu-nii-san? He is very close to Osomatsu after all. Or maybe Choromatsu, since he's so smart?
But in the end, there's really only one person he can ask, isn't there?
"Osomatsu-nii-san?" And he tries desperately to sound surer now, graver. What he says often makes people laugh, and that makes him happy too. But not right now, he wants to be taken seriously. "Do you need help being happy?"
Osomatsu stares at him, a little pale and a little frightful. His lip trembles but he lays one hand against Jyushimatsu's cheek.
"I'm already very happy, Jyushi," he says, voice barely a whisper.
Just like the first time, it's exactly like her. Jyushimatsu can practically smell the salty air, the spray of water against his face. But he lays his head against his brother's shoulder instead and doesn't say anything.
He couldn't help Homura. And he can't help Osomatsu either.
Todomatsu generally viewed himself as the most successful of his siblings.
Being the last of them to be born, he put a lot of importance in being first in any other department he could get his grubby little hands on.
He was the first of them to be invited to another child's birthday party in pre-school. He was the first to join a club and the first to get a part-time job. And if he had his way, he'll be the first to have a girlfriend too - though Jyushi might have got him beat there.
Todomatsu was also the first one of them to gain 100 followers on his blog, but that probably had more to do with the fact that none of his older brothers actually had a social media account.
Or a phone, for that matter.
Yes, generally, Todomatsu liked being first in every aspect of his life. Speaking up about their brother's issues was not one of those.
He can barely remember when he first started noticing it. Maybe because it was so long ago, or maybe because remembering when he first became aware of it, only magnifies how long he ignored it. Despite what others might think, Todomatsu is indeed capable of human emotions. Guilt is one of them.
But time or guilt didn't really matter.
All that did matter is that one day, he found a needle. So small and unassuming it looked, Todomatsu barely registered it at first. As if it wasn't real. Just something that obviously didn't belong in their house. Between their blankets. But that's exactly where he found it.
He picked it up then, pressing it against his finger almost experimentally, not hard enough to pierce skin but enough to feel the painful pressure.
Todomatsu had seen these before. They are the replaceable kind the doctor uses on a syringe.
Maybe he already realized right then and there what this meant, but he just didn't want to see it.
Stashed it away somewhere in the trash, out of sight out of mind as they say. Deluded himself into thinking he could make this go away by ignoring it. The world never did Todomatsu Matsuno any favors before. He had no idea why he expected it to start doing so now.
It was like a sixth sense after that, a heightened awareness of anything his brothers did that was even slightly out of the ordinary.
Not that anything ever truly was ordinary, as far as their family were concerned.
But if there was any one of them Todomatsu would have given the label 'drug addict' it would probably be Ichimatsu. He was always the odd one out. The depressed one.
Todomatsu couldn't be more wrong.
Osomatsu and Karamatsu seem a lot less friendly with each other than they used to be, that's the first thing he notices.
The six of them always had a funny relationship. Unstable at best, balancing on thin ice to keep from sinking. They needed each other, but would just as likely throw their nearest sibling under the bus, should it be convenient.
Figuratively or literally.
But none of them could deny the oldest two had something different. Something that reminded Todomatsu of a mafia boss and his right hand man, whispering behind their sunglasses, perched on their proverbial high horses.
Something between them that was confidential and unique and untouchable by any of their brothers.
And in normal circumstances, Todomatsu wouldn't care, wouldn't blink twice at the display. Until it stopped.
Until the whispering dissolved into evasive looks and Karamatsu didn't announce he was going out at night, almost sneaking out of the house like a teenager avoiding his parents. It left Todomatsu slightly breathless, unsure of the why and how and just generally confused.
And anxious.
A little voice inside his head, sounding annoyingly similar to Choromatsu, asking him why he's scared, and him failing to find an answer.
But as ever the king at ignoring things that aren't technically his problem, Todomatsu cleared another level of his puzzle app and didn't think about it twice.
The icy wind is bitterly cold, the scarf around his neck fashionable but hardly doing anything to keep out the breeze. Todomatsu puffs warm breath onto his hands stubbornly.
At least he looks stylish while freezing to death.
The streets are almost deserted, people all too eager to be at home or a shop with central heating. All in all, it's almost a miracle it took Todomatsu so long to notice him. But once he did, it's really impossible to mistake such a painful outfit for anybody else.
Maybe if it was only the pulled up collar, the gloved hands buried deep into a dark coat, Todomatsu might have thought it was just Karamatsu going about... whatever he does when he's not home.
But it's the sunglasses that tip him of.
Even his painful idiot of a brother isn't going to wear shades when it's below freezing point outside.
Todomatsu stares down the street for a second, longingly thinking of a warm bath and plenty of food. It could all be his if he just turns around and goes home.
He curses his own curiosity as he starts off in the other direction instead, feeling like some kind of badly portrayed spy in those foreign movies Osomatsu sometimes liked to watch, dodging around lampposts and flowerbeds to stay out of sight.
Not that Karamatsu is looking behind him or anything.
Rather, he seemed intent on some goal, walking fast along the sidewalk and turning lanes as if he had done this countless times before. The notion only served to confuse Todomatsu more.
Before he knows it, the buildings around him are no longer familiar, grayed out and cracked, with weeds growing from the pavement. A part of town Todomatsu wouldn't be caught dead in.
But probably will be soon, if he doesn't watch his steps.
His mind barely has time to wrap around a reason why Karamatsu would set foot here, besides the obvious fact that he barely ever thinks his actions through, when his brother darts into an alley.
One with littered bottles and broken glass. One that smelled disgustingly of piss and cigarette smoke.
Todomatsu breaths deep before turning around.
He knows all he needs to know.
Choromatsu is tapping his fingers against the table uselessly, scratching at the wood. He's ruining his nails, but for once Todomatsu has decided to let it slide. They have bigger issues to deal with.
Jyushimatsu is practically bouncing in his seat, legs moving at a frenzied rate that provides an interesting contrast to Ichimatsu's almost disinterested demeanor.
Across from them, Todomatsu perches his hands against the table, trying to smile, but knowing it comes out brittle and tired. They look at him and he realizes they already know what he called them here for. What he is going to say.
But somebody has to step up and be the first to get it out.
"We need to talk about our brothers."