He fingers one of the headphones hanging around his neck and considers this. So the music had been something for Minato to focus on. He had overheard plenty of classmates talking about music was an escape, or how it blocked everything out, and he didn't even give it a thought back then but perhaps it was true. At the least, there must have been people it worked on, like Minato. Like his mother, folding their laundry with some song he couldn't place playing on the stereo behind her. (What were those songs? He can't check anymore, and there's nobody who can tell him.) Music hadn't even occurred to Ken until he saw Minato come around the shrine. He wonders if it would have made a difference.
"I think learned to lie, instead," he confesses, a quiet murmur projected downward toward the fabric of his hood. He doesn't elaborate, but the admittance brings back a flood of memories he shoved away anyway. What he remembers are his last days at his relatives' home, pretending he didn't overhear them talking about him the night before they brought up Gekkoukan; he remembers the rumor mill that started up after his new classmates got curious why he wasn't going home for spring break; he remembers the concerned looks nervous teachers gave him and all their questions if he was okay. He didn't have a way to shut it out and it had been so loud, but the nights were unbearably silent, returning to his empty dorm room and not having anybody to say good night to. What if he had music to fill in those gaps? He sighs, closing his eyes and wondering how long Minato would let him stay like this next to him, if he wasn't getting too uncomfortable. "I went out into the Dark Hour right after I got sent to Gekkoukan. I saw somebody get attacked by Shadows, once... and instead of staying inside, I went out more. I wanted to know that it was real, that I wasn't really imagining it or going crazy like everyone thought I was."
He sucks his lower lip between his teeth, and he forces himself to shrug.
"I don't think I really coped. When the Shadows didn't kill me, I decided I'll kill them so I snuck a brush into my room and started learning how to fight."
no subject
"I think learned to lie, instead," he confesses, a quiet murmur projected downward toward the fabric of his hood. He doesn't elaborate, but the admittance brings back a flood of memories he shoved away anyway. What he remembers are his last days at his relatives' home, pretending he didn't overhear them talking about him the night before they brought up Gekkoukan; he remembers the rumor mill that started up after his new classmates got curious why he wasn't going home for spring break; he remembers the concerned looks nervous teachers gave him and all their questions if he was okay. He didn't have a way to shut it out and it had been so loud, but the nights were unbearably silent, returning to his empty dorm room and not having anybody to say good night to. What if he had music to fill in those gaps? He sighs, closing his eyes and wondering how long Minato would let him stay like this next to him, if he wasn't getting too uncomfortable. "I went out into the Dark Hour right after I got sent to Gekkoukan. I saw somebody get attacked by Shadows, once... and instead of staying inside, I went out more. I wanted to know that it was real, that I wasn't really imagining it or going crazy like everyone thought I was."
He sucks his lower lip between his teeth, and he forces himself to shrug.
"I don't think I really coped. When the Shadows didn't kill me, I decided I'll kill them so I snuck a brush into my room and started learning how to fight."