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Karamatsu was meticulous.
He took notes on everything. He wrote things down. He stuck tabs into books. He had a little notebook he carried within the pocket of his hoodie. He memorised the latest fashions, the news, girls names, the plots of sappy romcoms, what his brothers were like, what his brothers did.
Why?
To be popular. To be liked. To be more like his brothers. To fit in. To be normal. To draw inspiration for himself. To have a personality. To have a sense of identity. To be more like them. To be noticed.
When they turned fourteen, Jyushimatsu began acting less like the others. Up until then, they had been much the same as each other. But Jyushimatsu became loud and hyperactive. It was a foreign concept to them almost. They were meant to be identical in every aspect but now Jyushimatsu was different.
Everyone knew which brother was Jyushimatsu.
Karamatsu grew louder and painful.
After years of only owning the same pairs of clothing between them, when Todomatsu turned fifteen he began to shop for himself. He bought a hat. A beanie. A tie. A button up shirt. Even when wearing his jeans he rolled them up.
Everyone could tell from a distance which one was Todomatsu.
Karamatsu went out and bought the flashiest jeans he could.
Osomatsu came home at the age of sixteen with a packet of cigarettes. A friend had given them to him. Choromatsu scolded him, Ichimatsu told him he was one step closer to dying.Everyone was telling him off.
Karamatsu started smoking the next week.
At the age of seventeen they found out Ichimatsu had been self-harming.
Karamatsu was meticulous.
Take notes. Mentally, physically it didn’t matter. Improve. Use these notes to improve. Improve who you are as a person, Karamatsu. Kusomatsu.
You have to improve.
Be more like them.
You have to be more like them.
At the age of seventeen they found out Ichimatsu had been self harming.
“Why, Ichimatsu?”
Why?
“How long has this been going on for? What have you been doing this with?”
How long? What with?
“We’re here for you if you need us, you know that right, Ichi-niisan?”
“You don’t have to do this to yourself. You can tell us anything.”
We notice you. We will give you attention.
At the age of seventeen they found out Ichimatsu had been self harming.
Everyone was concerned.
Everyone cared.
Be more like him. Be noticed.
Scissors. They were used for school. Part of a stationery set one of them had for fifth grade. Blunt.
Back of the calf. Ankle. Top of the thigh. Nowhere visible.
Scratches. Only scratches.
Notice. Someone please notice.
Not enough to draw blood.
Look at me.
Sharper scissors. Craft scissors. Enough to draw blood.
Pay attention to me.
Back of the hand. Front of the calf. Wrist. Somewhere someone could see it.
Someone saw it.
At the age of seventeen and a half Todomatsu found out Karamatsu had been self harming.
They were lounging around the house. It was a regular day. Todomatsu was on his phone. Karamatsu was reading a magazine. Each were minding their own business, not really caring to throw a shred of notice in the other’s direction. It was a regular day.
Karamatsu’s sleeve had rolled up.
It could have been the way he had been sitting. It could have been he brushed his arm against something. He hadn’t seen the sleeve roll up past his wrists. He didn’t remember that there was a reason to pull it down. It could have been he didn’t want to pull it down.
Todomatsu hadn’t deliberately gone to look at Karamatsu when he had glanced in that direction. He must have been looking to the door or the ceiling or the clock on the wall. But
when he did his eyes ghosted across red puffy lines on Karamatsu’s wrists.
His stomach dropped.
“Karamatsu-niisan? What’s that? On your arms?” Todomatsu’s voice was weak and shaky. Karamatsu realised instantly. He pulled the sleeve back down, covering his wrist. His heart had found a new home in his throat.
“Nothing,” Karamatsu’s voice was weaker. Shakier.
Todomatsu made his way to Karamatsu. Grabbed his sleeve. Yanked it up. Karamatsu’s wrist was laden with scrapes and nicks and cuts and pricks. Karamatsu couldn’t look Todomatsu in the eyes. Karamatsu stared at the floor. Todomatsu stared at his arm.
Yes.
Todomatsu let out a sigh.
Wait.
Karamatsu looked up. His spare hand brushed across his face to thumb away the tears which blurred his vision. Todomatsu looked at him in disappointment.
Disappointment.
No.
“Karamatsu-niisan…” The voice was definitely sad. Karamatsu didn’t respond. He wouldn’t have known how. Todomatsu asked quietly, coaxingly.
“Where else?”
“Nowhere.”
Lies. Todomatsu’s speciality. He would have more easily gotten away with it if he had just told the truth.
“Take your hoodie and shirt off.”
Karamatsu did. Cuts on his wrists, forearms, a few on the lower portion of his stomach.
“Take off your socks.”
Karamatsu did. A circle of cuts around each ankle. They were deepest here - the skin was tighter and had less nerves - though still not deep at all.
“Take your pants off.”
Karamatsu was meticulous.
He had to perfect everything he did. He had to get it right. He couldn’t be nothing. He had to be Something. Maybe if he did Something well enough, everyone would notice him for it. Everyone would see him as the person who Did That Something. Did Something well.
He took notes. He improved.
He was standing in front of his brother wearing nothing but a pair of briefs. He and Todomatsu used to see each other naked every night. On most nights, Karamatsu still saw Todomatsu naked.
Karamatsu had never felt more exposed in his life.
Todomatsu looked him over.
“Disgusting”.
There was something in his eyes.
“Disappointing.”
“Why?” His voice was definitely saddened.
Karamatsu shrugged.
Todomatsu pressed his lips together tightly. Apparently Karamatsu wasn’t the only one who didn’t know what to say in this situation. When the other’s had found out about Ichimatsu, Todomatsu had remained quiet until the others had said what they had to. Karamatsu had left this all fall on the youngest brother. How could he expect Todomatsu to be able to handle seeing him like this.
“Is there a reason? Or are you just…”
Say it.
“...doing it for attention?”
Yes. I am.
Please notice me.
“Because I feel like a lot of what you do is for attention.”
Yes. It is.
Please notice me.
“I feel like you’re copying Ichimatsu.”
Yes. I am.
Please notice me.
“Ichimatsu actually has stuff going on. He actually is depressed.”
Take notes. Improve.
“Those are just scratches, Ichimatsu’s are much deeper.”
“Cut deeper.”
“It looks like you’ve used.. Scissors? Ichimatsu uses a razor blade.”
“Use a razor blade.”
“They’re actually on the top of his wrists, not just on his forearms.”
“Aim for the veins.”
“He’s not doing this for attention. He’s actually serious.”
Be more like Ichimatsu.
“You don’t actually want to die, do you Karamatsu? Real self harm is only done because the person wants to die.” Karamatsu shook his head. He had started to sob.
“Make it look like you want to die next time.”
“I don’t think you’re serious about this.”
“Otherwise no one will care about you.”
“Please stop,” Todomatsu bit his lip to stop it from quivering. He was crying too. They were both crying.
“I will,” Karamatsu promised. The tears made it hard to speak. Todomatsu reached forward and grabbed Karamatsu. He hugged him tightly.
Imagine how much attention you would have been getting if you had done this properly.
Do it better next time.
Karamatsu hugged Todomatsu back. They cried together. The hug lasted for a long while until it grew too uncomfortable to continue. They broke the hug.
“Karamatsu-niisan…” Todomatsu’s eyes locked with Karamatsu’s, “Are you okay?”
No.
God no.
I’m so scared, Todomatsu.
Please stop me. Stop me before I take this too far.
Please fucking notice me.
“I’m fine. There’s no need to worry about your handsome, most awesome brother, Karamatsu.” He was grinning. Karamatsu had never felt so exposed in his life.
Karamatsu was meticulous.