The evening was mild as you stepped out onto the porch, and you breathed deeply as the air washed over you, brushing away the painful residue left over from your mum's drunken outburst.

She always turned nasty after a drink. It was like the alcohol manifested into a new personality inside her - a bitter, spiteful personality that tore through her foundations and made her that much colder to be around.

You hated it.

But you didn't hate her.

It was the drink.

You hated the drink.

That's what you had to tell yourself everytime you left her choking at the bottom of those bottles. It was the drink talking.

Zipping up your coat, you started down the street.

Leaves cartwheeled up the road, lapping around your ankles before hitching a ride on the wind and sailing far above the chimneys. Rectangles of light shredded through the rooftops and painted wide arcs of shadow about your feet, nipping at your heels and stretching up the walls of the adjacent properties. You'd been scared of shadows once, of the black silhouette that had no face, no life of its own, yet seemed to be everywhere at once. Until you realised you could never outrun it, never escape. Even when it appears to have been whisked away by dusk, bled into the surrounding monochromatic streets, it's always there, waiting for a chance to dance under the stars once again.

Now it seemed to be the only thing keeping you company these lonely days.

Cutting into a narrow dusty lane, you found yourself leaving behind the smog and clatter of the industrial block, wading deeper through open fields with frosted flowers swaying softly in the breeze. A small patch of forest lay off the embankment, and you quickened your pace as the sun brushed the tips of the treetops, spraying them with golden hues.

Ducking under the cover of trees, twigs and leaves skidded and dashed out from under your feet, and you tripped your way through the undergrowth. The foliage here seemed to linger with a dew that made your skin bead with condensation, and you moved your hair over your shoulder to stop it from sticking to the back of your neck.

You didn't stop walking until you reached the lake. Not often frequented by visitors, the pond was shrouded in a bluish mist that made it look eerie and gothic, shadows swinging from the branches and skating the water. Yet it was imbued by a sense of forgetfulness, as if trapped in time, in a world nobody remembered. Your presence here was invisible but humbling, thus making it the perfect place to escape.

You reached the edge of the water and sat down. The lake was a smoky blue, hugging the centre of a clearing etched between the trees, with thick plumes of mist rolling across the surface. Hugging your knees to your chest, you fiddled with a piece of grass tickling your knee and finally let your mum's voice hammer through your head, her words spilling over your thoughts.

You worthless piece of shit. You do nothing but annoy and hinder everyone around you.

Your vision blurred over as something cold and wet tumbled down your cheek.

Why can't you do anything right?

A sob caught in your throat, but you managed to keep it silent.

Sometimes I wish I never had you. Things would be so much easier.

You glimpsed your reflection in the shallow pool below, glazed [e/c] eyes, matted [h/c] hair, a dusting of constellations on your cheeks in the form of freckles.

Your breath hitched as a twig snapped somewhere behind you, and you scrambled onto your knees, glancing around furiously until your eyes fell on a silhouette emerging from the trees. Brilliant golden eyes, a lanky frame, messy blonde hair.

"T-Tsukishima?"

"Huh? Oh - [Y/N]," he murmured quietly, appearing ghostly in the bluish shadow of dusk. "I-I'll go."

"No, wait," you said firmly, dragging a hand across your cheek. His appearance had managed to stem the tears at least. "Stay. Please."

You were expecting him to ignore you, to stomp off like he usually did. But this time he hesitated. His eyes found yours through the dwindling light, and something stirred in your chest.

Sighing, he plodded forward and sat a short distance away, gazing out across the lake.

"I didn't think many people knew about this place," you mused, glancing across at him.

Kei shifted his long legs. "Neither did I."

You watched curiously as he picked through the undergrowth and took a stone, pressing it against the flat of his palm before tossing it across the lake. The pebble skimmed the water, skipping the waves three times before sinking below with a soft plop.

"Do you come here often?" You eventually voiced aloud, picking up a twig and using it to sift through the leaves and soil embedded around your feet. You found it difficult to stay still in his company, as if you had to distract yourself before you did something reckless.

Tsukishima didn't bother replying. He had his knees drawn right up to his chin, arms sitting loosely by his sides, eyes heavy-lidded, as if the mist from the lake concealed an enchantment, coaxing him into slumber.

You sighed faintly. "I'm sorry."

Kei stirred, knitting his brows into a puzzled frown, but you didn't explain, and he didn't ask you to.

He could interpret it how he wanted.

Sorry for being persistent. Sorry for the bruises. Sorry for everything that had happened to him since he was brought into the world.

"I need to go now," you said, knowing you wouldn't get a reply, and climbed to your feet. "I'll see you tomorrow," you continued, dusting the soil off your legs. "Take care, okay?"