Banana Split--with a side of DEATH » Places

         

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Graham stared out the window as the helicopter started its fan blades again, slowly picking up off of the ground and rising into the air again. Ayame sat across from him, looking between the hospital and some papers she had in her hand, distracted. As they rose further and further into the sky, the numbness began to fade away and turn into an uncontrollable excitement. He tapped his toes, then shifted, then hugged his chair, then moved to get an even better look at the world below.

They'd dropped Levi off, they'd made their stop at the hospital, and now they were heading to their final destination: home.

I like this helicopter, Graham realized, running his hand along the cushy seats. He admired it for a few moments. ...Yes. It's a very nice helicopter. I think I want it to be my helicopter.

He nodded to himself. I'm gonna steal it. Not now, not tomorrow, not even the day after...but someday.

The ride home didn't consist of much--Graham was too exhausted to plan his helicopter heist in his head and was mostly just distracted by the view the entire time, but Ayame initiated a conversation with him every now and then, talking about mostly trivial stuff. At one point, she did end up singing him happy birthday, which he guessed was nice. Many things she brought up were interrupted by his incessant questions--"Are we there yet?", "How long until we're there?", and "Are we close?" to name a few--to which she usually replied, "Calm down, kid, I'll tell you when we're close."

The time left until he finally got home turned into the only thing he could think about. From the moment that they'd been trapped in that horrible h*ll, that had been all he could think about. Of all the things that Monokuma--Akuma?--had ever said, the one that had struck him most was when he'd told them they were never coming home. That meant no dad, that meant no warmth, that meant no more hugs and laughs and adventures to tell all about.

Now he was so close.

He realized in that moment that this, too, could be considered an 'adventure'--a horrible, nightmarish, scarring, despair-ridden, nauseating, depressing adventure--one that was over, one that he'd never go through again, one that would haunt him for the rest of his life. But it was over, and he was coming home.

Remembering a conversation he'd had with his dad once, Graham smiled a very broken smile.

"'Adventures?' That's what you're calling them?" He'd asked, with a hint of a sigh. "You could get seriously hurt doing the things you're doing."

"I could, but I won't, because I know what I'm doing," Graham assured his father, looking up from the millions of dollars worth of diamonds he'd laid out on their table. "Trust me, dad. It's okay. If you try to stop me I'll just find a way to do it anyway, so there's no point in telling me not to."

He stared at his son for a moment, then sighed, rubbing his forehead. "...Alright, but don't expect me not to sell these when I end up having to bail you out someday."

"You wouldn't dare," Graham said seriously, scooping his diamonds up as if to protect them.

"I would and you know it." He paused. Seeming contemplative, he took a step toward the table, looking down at all of the precious gems his son had stolen. Glancing over his shoulder as if expecting the police to knock down their door, he frowned slightly, then looked back at his son. "...Is this really the thing you wanna do, Graham Cracker?"

Graham nodded.

"...Then you've got to promise me something," his dad muttered, walking around the table to pat Graham's head. "Whatever 'adventures' you end up going on...you've always gotta come home, okay?"

"Okay," Graham had agreed, smiling. "I'll find a way to come home. Always."

He was coming home. He was done with this adventure and he was eager to leave it behind for the rest of his life, and now that it was quite literally behind him, he was heading back to the place he always promised to go--home.

A few minutes passed, and Graham noticed the helicopter begin to approach a row of houses and before he could whirl around and tug on Ayame's sleeve to ask her the same question again, she nodded. "We're here."

We're here? We're here. We're here!

He nearly jumped out of his seat. Slow and careful, they began their descent on the outside of the nice-looking neighborhood. Ayame opened the helicopter door for him and he jumped out, taking his chair with him and looking down the line of moderately sized houses. He glanced up at Ayame, impatient. "Which one's mine? Which house is mine?"

She pointed him to one farther along the line (the twelfth house down) and after confirming with her that it was, in fact, his, he nodded, propped his chair up on his shoulders, and waved her goodbye. She waved back, assured him she'd be back with more to tell him, then stepped back inside the helicopter and closed the door. Its fan blades started up again, whipping the air around it into a frenzy--Graham stepped back, using the chair to shield himself.

The helicopter took off into the sky, Ayame with it. Graham watched--the silence when it finally flew out of view was somehow peaceful. Taking a deep breath of fresh air, Graham looked at the neighborhood before him.

And running as fast as his agile legs would allow, he made a mad dash toward the twelfth house down the line.