Y/N POV:

So we were.

I listened to Douma's words, realizing the many parallels between us.

We were both people who experienced severe apathy, and both who somehow overcame the condition. When we had met each other, neither of us had an ounce of compassion or empathy in our hearts. 

For me, it was because I was not given a chance to express my emotions when I was a toddler, with my biological parents never giving me a chance to live. So when I was finally found by the outside world, sitting on the floor of my home with broken alcohol bottles surrounding me, every shard of emotion had in me been smashed along with the bottles. 

However, I was lucky enough to be brought into a home with a loving, available mother and a father who worked hard to bring food to the table. 

Douma, from what I believe, was not so lucky.

"Douma, you're a strong person." I say quietly, cupping his face with my hand. 

Douma, in turn, studies my expression with slight confusion in his eyes, looking like a lost child. "Eh? What do you mean, (Y/N)?" He asks. I glance down, fidgeting with my hands in my lap as I think of how to respond. 

"You...you've been through a lot." I eventually admit, peering at his pale face for a reaction - mainly his rainbow eyes, since his face usually took on a blank expression.

Douma's eyebrows crease together in a more obvious type of confusion. "What are you talking about?" He says, his voice wavering slightly. I studied his nervous eyes, and he definitely understood what part of his past I was referring to. However, neither of us wanted to be the one to say it out loud.

I simply look at him knowingly. Douma sighs. 

"Oh." He pauses, a silence filling the air. After a few seconds of painstaking silence, he speaks. 

"Thank you." He says, his eyes showing a sliver of happiness. I silently nod in return, standing up. 

"This is depressing." I sigh. Douma cracks an amused smile, which internally sends butterflies through my system. I offer him my hand, which he takes, and I pull him up to a standing position.

Soon enough, we had both maneuvered our way from the spot on the roof back to the top rungs of the metal ladder, then down to the floor of the dark alleyway. 

Douma covers his nose, clearly disliking the strong stink of rotting garbage. I sigh. "Is it that bad?" I ask, and he stares at me in disbelief.

"Are you noseblind? This smells like shit." He grumbles, holding his nose with his fingers. This causes his voice to sound much more nasally, which makes me  giggle.

"Maybe." I say mockingly, turning my head and flashing a quick smile, as if I were a supermodel. 

Douma, who clearly had enough of the stench, grabs me by the hand and practically drags me out of the alleyway. I stumble behind him, wondering what on Earth he was doing. It took me several seconds to realize that he had an extremely sensitive sense of smell, which was why the trash bothered him so deeply.

"Hey!" I laugh playfully, not quite minding what he was doing as he led me through the dissipating streams of people. "Where are we even going?" I ask, to which he ignores me, staying silent.

Quite interested in where he was leading me, I retreated into my thoughts as he pulled me along the wide streets, observing the path and remembering what was in which part of town so I could possibly guess where I was following him. 

I wondered how he even knew where to go, since I didn't believe he'd been here, in my home town, before. But before I could ask my question, he snapped me out of my thoughts with a tug on my hand. 

"(Y/N), we're here." Douma says, turning to look at me. 

I study our surroundings, realizing that we were in front of my house. I pause, my eyebrows knitted together in confusion. 

"Wait, how do you know how to get to my house?" I ask, a playful sort of suspicion present in my voice. Douma shrugs. 

"How do you think the boy - Kaishi, I think - knew where to go to find you?" He replies simply, his old childish demeanor returning. I considered his answer for a moment before nodding. 

I noticed his change in attitude, his normal amused grin spreading across his face. I knew that the grin was fake, but there were still genuine emotions in his eyes.

Maybe this was his way of getting used to his emotions: faking them until they were real. I internally scoffed at the thought, a smile flashing its way through my own expression. Fake it until you make it, apparently.

"His name was Kikuchi, but fair enough." I say, fidgeting with my fingers since I didn't quite know what to do with my hands. Douma stares at me for a second.

"So...are you going to go inside and see your parents again, or are you going to stay out here and nervously fidget forever?" He says teasingly, giving me a gentle push on the back, hoping that I would walk forwards.

My ever-wandering mind returns to planet Earth and processes his words. "Oh, uhm...yeah." I pause. "Wait, aren't you coming with me?" I ask, a hint of hopefulness on the edge of my voice.

Douma's expression changes into one of embarrassment, averting his eyes to the sky before glancing back at me. He points to the moon, which was quickly lowering in the sky. 

"I mean, there's about two hours until sunrise, and I don't feel like burning alive right now, so I might come with. Still considering it, though." He says. I guess he was in a jovial mood, since it wasn't common for him to make this many jokes that were actually funny to a person with normal humor.

I roll my eyes, a grin on my face. I grab his hand, pulling him along down the gravelly road, on which I could hear the tiny rocks crunching under our feet. We stopped just short of the front entrance, with Douma waiting for me to knock at the door.

However, several seconds after I made no movement to raise my arm and knock on the door, Douma squeezed my hand softly, which was likely his way of reassuring me that he was here if anything went wrong. 

Well, the worst case scenario would be that either my parents didn't want me back or didn't answer the door, for which then the two of us would head back towards town and rent a place to stay for the night. 

I sighed, inching back hesitantly, suddenly extremely nervous about knocking on the door and seeing my parents, although it would likely only be my mother since my father was barely ever home,  after over a year of not being in contact with them. 

Douma noticed my obvious hesitation and let go of my hand, giving me a comforting side hug. "(Y/N), I fully well know that if you don't go in and visit your parents now, you're going to regret it when we get back home." He says, gently pushing me forwards.

I nod slowly. "You're right. I'll do it." I whisper, mustering up just enough courage to lift my hand - which was shaking for some reason - and quickly rap on the door three times. 

Immediately, I turned to Douma, who flashed me an encouraging smile and two thumbs up. I smiled, knowing that he would cheer me up with his silly yet fun antics. 

From inside the house, I heard a soft clattering noise coming from the kitchen. Soon after the clattering went quiet, I heard the familiar sound of my mother's footsteps, which I had long ago learned to recognize by the light tapping sounds, coming closer to the door.

There was no going back now. 

I nervously fidgeted with my fingers, shifting my weight from one foot to the other repeatedly. Why was I so nervous? It was just my mother, the woman who chose to adopt me, take full care of me, and deal with my apathetic bullshit for sixteen years. 

Realizing this, I calmed down slightly, closing my eyes and steadying my rapid breathing. For what seemed like an eternity, Douma and I waited outside the entrance of the house, one of us far more patient than the other. 

Slowly, my nervousness turned to excitement as I thought of what I was really doing. I was actually seeing my mother again! The nervous frown which had been clouding my expression morphed into an eager smile. Douma could instantly tell the difference and patted my back. He always had been a fan of physical touch, i do notice.

Finally, a woman slid open the door, humming a calming tune. Her eyes widened as she realized that it was me at the door. 

"(Y-Y/N)?" She whispered, her voice cracking. She stared at me with a shocked expression, her eyes imitating those of a child who had been surprised with candy. Slowly, her eyes glistened more, salty tears pooling in her disbelieving eyes. 

I studied her with a genuine smile, and she opened her arms for me to embrace. Without a moment of hesitation, I jumped into her arms, and she placed my head on her shoulder, stroking my hair and sobbing silently.

A few seconds later, she let go, wiping her tears and composing herself. This was when she noticed Douma awkwardly standing in the corner, just observing everything that was happening.

"You must be the doctor that fixed my daughter's condition." My mother smiled, to which Douma shook his head, waving his hands in front of him as an obvious 'no'. 

"Ah, you are mistaken. I am no doctor, I was simply...a friend to (Y/N) whilst she was at the cult." Douma replied, phrasing his words in a way that would make them technically true, since he was only at the friend status while we were still at the cult, unlike whatever confusing, complicated relationship status we used now.

My mother nodded in understanding, rubbing my hand affectionately. For the slightest second, she studied Douma, and I think I could see the slightest amount of approval in her eyes at his appearance. I mean, I couldn't blame her.

I see Douma turn around and quickly check the sky, which was lightening more rapidly than before. I shared a knowing look with him, his eyes holding urgency. Suddenly, my mother's eyes widened, and I could practically see the lightbulb turn on above her head. 

"My, come in! How rude of me!" She ushers us inside, and Douma breathes a sigh of relief. We stepped inside and my mother led us to the kitchen, where she immediately began pouring us some fresh green tea, which I presume she was already in the process of preparing when the two of us arrived. 

I grinned at Douma happily, which he returned with a playful - yet still mostly fake - grin of his own. 

Word Count: 1891