Smile

AN: This is the climax of a story I've found myself abandoning, Masculinity. It half-follows the timeline of the series. Cooro is under the charge of Fly, who is emotionally abusive in more ways than one. There is a point where Fly believes Cooro is getting too close to his friends, and shuts him off from the world outside of class time through threats and lies. In the timeline of the book, this would take place after Cooro's +Anima is taken from him, and when he goes to Lilt to kill himself.

I debated long and hard about posting this. In the end, I obviously decided I would do it.

This is very dark. It's very upsetting. And it's a TRIGGER for Emotional Abuse and Suicide Attempts.

Read at your own discretion.

Cooro had always known where Fly's gun was located.

The bottom drawer of his left-side nightstand needed a key to be opened, but he knew where that was too.

The gun itself was nothing more than a standard semi-automatic handgun. It had been designed in Germany for law enforcement officials and civilian shooting as a replacement for an earlier model, so Fly had ordered it off an auction site some years back and kept it around without a license. He kept a minimal amount of ammunition for it, but the box containing the bullets were set in the drawer beside the weapon.

Cooro had never been curious about the gun, however, and had never had a reason to open the drawer and inspect it before now.

As he turned the first generation Walther P99 over in his fingers, the smooth outer polymer easily gliding under his fingers, he wondered about what it might taste like. Boring, he supposed, like metal and plastic. A bit bitter, even, from any previous shots that may have been fired from it's barrel.

A part of him was horrified that he might be curious of such a thing.

He pulled open the bottom of the gun, and began to load 9mm rounds into the cartridge.

The greater half of his mind reminded him that while it was nervous, it was also at ease. He was tired, very tired. No more lies, no more pain, no more guessing, no more suffering.

No more lying.

No more fake smiles and pretending his world was okay when it wasn't and putting up with Fly and telling him he loved him every time he got verbally abused. No more accepting the man's apologies for secluding him and telling him he's worthless, and no more dodging glass every time the man lost his temper again.

When he finished loading the firearm, he walked over to the radio on Fly's dresser. The silence was making him rethink his decision.

He laughed in spite of himself when Michael Jackson's "Smile" began flowing from the speakers.

How fitting.

Husky was worried.

Cooro hadn't shown up to class for the last three days. To anyone else, they might not be weird, but Cooro had been acting strangely for the past month or so and showed zero signs of illness. Cooro was always happy and bubbly, but about a month ago the Dean, Mr. Greena-Aight, had started calling him out of class and wouldn't let him eat lunch with the other kids. Once that started, Cooro had begun to grow quiet and listless. He'd run off after class with some lame excuse about chores, and wouldn't return their calls.

The day before he stopped coming to class, Nana and Cooro had gotten into a fight (more on Nana's side, as Cooro just stood there calmly), and Husky and Senri had left Cooro alone when it was over to make sure Nana was okay.

Husky didn't know if Cooro's disappearance had something to do with the argument, but he was done sitting around guessing.

After class on the fourth day of Cooro's absence, Husky, Nana, and Senri ventured up to the Dean's apartment on the top floor of the Dormitory building. They'd learned right away that Cooro was the adoptive son of the Dean, so they figured the best place to look for him was in his house.

"Smile, though your heart is aching… Smile, even though it's breaking…" Cooro sang quietly, staring at the gun in his fingers. The song was turned up loud, to drown out his thoughts.

He shifted on the King-size bed, and sat up on his knees.

"When there are clouds in the sky… you'll get by…" He licked his lips, then turned the barrel of the gun on his face. The dark hole stared at him, daring him, egging him on.

The mantra of his life until now echoed in his ears as he kissed it, and all Cooro could wonder about was how it would feel on his tongue.

It was cold, he'd learned quickly, and it was almost too wide for his jaw, but he shoved it in as far as it would go without gagging him.

But he sat there for 10 seconds, his hands quivering and his fingers refusing to move.

He removed the barrel from his previously eager mouth, and stared back into the black tube. He could've sworn he heard it berating him for being so chicken.

So, still trembling, he pressed it against his right temple. It wasn't quite as cold on his skin as it was on his insides, and he felt himself slouch considerably.

He bit into his lip until it began to draw blood.

"Smile, what's the use of crying?" He whispered, his index finger wrapping itself around the trigger.

He squeezed.

"COORO!"

BANG!

Cooro shrieked, the line torn in the side of his head immediately spilling blood down his temple. The misfired gun was ripped from his spasming hands, and all of a sudden Husky was upon him, screaming and pressing his hands against what must have only been a graze from the bullet. He couldn't see Nana, but he could hear her hysterics over the top of Husky's girlish voice.

"COORO! Oh my god, you fucking idiot! What were you thinking!" Husky cried, his beautiful ocean eyes wet and red as he whipped out his cell phone and begun to dial 911.

Cooro's throat burned, and his eyes burned, and his head burned, and he could only sit there and shake and cry.

"I can't do it anymore, Husky! I can't!" he wailed, burying himself in his best friend's uniform vest. His entire body vibrated in horrific sadness. "Why can't I just die!"

Husky left the call off the hook and gathered the teen in his own trembling arms, keeping one hand pressed into the gash on his scalp. "For god's sake, Cooro!" he sobbed, burying his face in the other boy's hair. "Why the hell would you ever think this is the best way to do anything! If we hadn't gotten here in time-"

"I wouldn't have to put up with him every day!" Cooro's arms held on to the smaller body like it was impossible to let go. "I can't play his game anymore! I can't do it! I can't do it!"

Nana, who was bawling, climbed up onto the bed and wrapped her arms around Cooro's heaving torso. She nuzzled her face into his quivering back, and just cried.

"We need you, Cooro! You can't just leave us!" Husky stated, shaking his head quickly. "We can help you! Just talk to us!"

In no state to continue talking, Cooro just allowed his friends to cocoon him in warmth and love as he wept hysterically. Senri had engulfed all three of them in his big arms, and they didn't move until a hoard of police and paramedics arrived on scene and tore them apart.

Husky rode with Cooro to the hospital to get his head wound addressed, and neither one of them could find the strength to stop the tears from falling. Nana and Senri stayed behind to speak with the police, though Nana found it very hard to speak properly to anyone. The gash was treated, and although Cooro was alright, he was left in the Hospital on a Suicide Watch for a few days after the incident. The police would come and go, as Cooro had confided in the Detectives on his case the things Fly had done over the years.

He was released into the waiting arms of Husky and his oddly large family about a week later, and the school was shut down and investigated.

Fly never returned to his apartment. The police found him floating downstream in the Greyson River after a month, and had concluded that he'd hit his head on some rocks before falling in. He'd drowned.

When he heard the news, Cooro felt strangely remorseful. The man had been a terror on his life, but he had also taken him in from the cold and provided him with food and shelter.

He thanked the Detectives for all they'd done, and kept his head high as he walked along.

It was over, and it was never coming back.

"Smile, and maybe tomorrow," He mumbled, looking up at the puffy white clouds, "You'll find that life is still worthwhile."