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In the fall of ninth grade, Akane Aoi starts a journal.
There are definitely those who’d believe that any sort of journal she’d keep would be neatly organized; a diary of clear, concise thoughts, written in beautiful handwriting. Each page would be dated and numbered, and when she finished her entry she’d place the ribbon bookmark in place and set the diary aside for the next day.
Aoi’s journal is no such thing.
Aoi’s journal is a terrible, destructive creature.
(Much, in retrospect, like her.)
The first page has no date, but Aoi remembers exactly when it was. The page is covered in messy scribbles, doodles of camellias and spider lilies, their stems interweaving and overgrowing until the entire page is filled.
It was October 8th.
It was October 8th, and the leaves were turning orange, and Yashiro Nene had forgotten to bring a jacket to school that day. The winds had picked up, and Nene laughed at her foolishness and shivered, hugging her arms tight to her chest in some attempt to warm herself up.
“I’ll know better for tomorrow,” she’d fussed. “Let’s just walk home quickly, Aoi…”
Aoi had her jacket, warm and snug around her, and a scarf that matched on top of it. In the same instant that she looked at Nene’s shivering form, she’d begun to unbutton the coat and, in the next instant, had held it firmly out to Nene.
“Here you go, Nene-chan.” Aoi was all smiles.
And then so was Nene.
Nene, who burst into a grin so radiant that Aoi felt like she was watching a fireworks display at a festival, like the ones that used to fill her with such joy to experience the world and live when she was a child. Aoi’s heart leapt right into her throat and she found herself clutching at the jacket a little too tightly as Nene tried to take it from her.
“Aoi?”
“Sorry!” she’d snapped out of it with a laugh. Nene slipped into the jacket and continued to beam, and Aoi wondered briefly if she’d be able to get away with wrapping her arms around Nene and never letting go. She’d had to hold onto the scarf for dear life instead, her fingers bunching up the wool. “I was just a little taken aback by the cold.”
“You didn’t have to give me your jacket!” Nene had protested, but Aoi had shaken her head and insisted.
She’d briefly toyed with the idea of the feelings being in passing, but there was no mistaking what it was. Her heart had fluttered so intensely that the thought of it just being something fleeting was quickly shoved aside – something so strong could never come from just the joy of a best friend smiling at you.
So, she knew; she knows.
On October 8th, Aoi falls in love with her best friend.
On October 8th, Aoi starts the journal.
The second page has no flowers. It does, however, have a series of purikura photos, pasted carefully into place on the page. Aoi looks remarkably out of place in them, but Nene looks as radiant as ever. Each photo, to Aoi, just proves that this world really isn’t somewhere she’s meant to fit into, but Nene had laughed and announced what they were going to do time and time again. Aoi had happily followed her directions.
“Put your hands up like this.” “Now look this way!” “Now like this–”
It was something so carefree. Aoi had let Nene pick out what effects to put on the photos; she’d piped up when prompted, but otherwise she’d just been happy to watch Nene focus on what exactly she wanted to do. Nene had a specific way of focusing; her brow would furrow just so, and Aoi could usually see the tip of her tongue poking out from between her lips. It’s so terribly endearing every time that Aoi’s heart aches.
Nene continues babbling on as the photos print, pointing out how funny she thinks some ones are, how pretty she thinks Aoi looks in others. They stop for chocolate cornets at a bakery and Nene sees a boy (Aoi’s sure he must be attractive, but she feels… nothing) and starts lamenting that he’d never give her the time of day because of her ankles. But wouldn’t it be cool if he gave her a chance?
“You have chocolate on your nose, Nene-chan.” Aoi’s voice is surprisingly steady, her eyes shutting as she smiles. It feels hollow, but Nene seems unaware of it. She wants to reach out and brush the chocolate away, but it feels like if she touches Nene she might corrupt her. So she doesn’t. Nene gasps out in panic and rubs the chocolate away, then frets about making a fool of herself in front of her new man of the hour.
It almost feels like a date, but Aoi never lets herself hope that much.
The photos in the journal are the ones Nene said were her favourites.
The third and fourth pages combined are ripped out. Aoi can remember what they used to have, a mess of angry words in a handwriting that doesn’t look like her own, scratched so fiercely into the pages that they’d torn while the boy across the street had watched her in full belief she didn’t know he was there.
Girls, she knows, should like boys. It’s always easier when girls like boys. Aoi should be able to accept Akane’s confessions time and time again, coo out a happy “I love you too, Akane-kun”, and that would be that.
Instead, every time he confesses, Aoi can feel bile rising in her throat. She wants to tear her skin off. Wouldn’t that be a sight? Would he still love her then? He doesn’t. He doesn’t even love her. Laid bare like that, a terrible mess of a thing, would he see now the pedestal he’s put her on?
Aoi has never been someone that good.
But she swallows down the disgust and, channeling a radiance she knows only Nene can pull off, rates his latest attempt with no real care in the world for it – two and a half points.
“He’s so persistent,” Nene comments.
“Isn’t he just?” comes Aoi’s reply, like it’s a joke and not something that makes her want to be sick.
Girls should like boys and not their best friends.
Aoi smiles at the time but tears into the pages later, because she may not be able to rip herself to shreds but the journal is the next best thing.
The fifth page has doodles again; an assortment of red and yellow roses, all around a photo of Nene that never made it into the gardening club book that year. Aoi took her time carefully framing the page, attaching the photo just right and making sure the roses all looked exactly how she wanted. The photos were taken by a soft-spoken boy in the photography club who dies later that year, in the chill of winter.
A discomfort falls over Kamome Academy in the days that follow, but it doesn’t last nearly long enough. Everyone seems upset for a few days, fake tears that could fall in line with the play Aoi puts on every day, and then – nothing. They all move on, like nothing happened.
Mortality is, Aoi realizes, terribly fleeting.
She realizes, too, that she could vanish one day and, like the boy from the photography club (Aoi remembers his name: “Mitsuba-kun”), be forgotten the very next. She knows that thought shouldn’t be comforting, but it is. One day, Aoi wants to be somewhere greater than this, where she doesn’t have to cater her words to an image she never wanted to have. Isn’t that a nice world? One where she doesn’t have to smile and accept love letters from anonymous sources that leave them shoved in her shoes or left on her desk only for Akane to try to one-up each note.
(“Four”, “five points”, “one”, “three”, “hmm… six points! Out of one hundred.” and yet he never stops.)
She should like the attention, shouldn’t she? She should like that everyone seems to think everything she does is flawless.
Aoi wants to end up vanishing like Mitsuba did. Not… die, maybe, but… vanish.
The only thing that stops her from trying is the photo of Nene and the thought she wouldn’t ever be able to see her smile again.
Page six is empty. Page seven is empty. Pages eight, nine, and ten are empty. It isn’t that Aoi didn’t want to fill them out; it’s just that her heart ached too terribly to be able to find any way to properly portray just what she wanted to. How can someone express how painful it is to have their heart broken every other week?
Nene gushes about her crush of the moment, a boy who picked her pencil up from the floor, a boy who brushed hands with her in the hallway, a boy who didn’t really do much of anything but breathed in her general direction and his breath wasn’t bad. “I’m sure he likes girls with thin legs,” or, “He’s a big fan of home cooking, so I’m going to learn how to make the best cakes!” would inevitably follow.
Aoi can’t even bring herself to smile, and Nene… doesn’t seem to notice.
“I’m sure there’s someone out there who thinks your ankles are cute, Nene-chan.”
Nene looks aghast, like Aoi’s instead just suggested she dive into a toilet all for the joy of it. If it had been because of anything else, Aoi knows she would have laughed. Nene’s good at making her laugh at the worst of times.
“No boy in his right mind is ever going to like themmmm…” Nene exhales, the last syllable drawn out until it fades as she slumps forward against her desk. Aoi purses her lips tightly to avoid saying anything else (that maybe it doesn’t have to be a boy, Nene-chan?).
Aoi can’t bring herself to fill in the pages because how can she capture how perfect she thinks Nene is, just the way she is? The pages remain empty, and Nene remains in love with love, blind to what’s immediately in front of her.
Aoi doesn’t blame her, of course. Girls should like boys, after all.
Page eleven is yellow tulips, washi tape laid out in cute patterns, and a sketch of Nene. Page eleven signifies that they’re in high school now – signifies another onslaught of confessions from Akane and a new wave of boys to hear about from Nene.
Shortly after high school starts, though, something about Nene… changes.
Nene, who was the one consistency in Aoi’s life – the one person who never really acted like Aoi was some untouchable thing, placing her on the pedestal everyone else did, putting words in her mouth that she never said. Nene, who never listened when everyone made up their own interpretations of who Aoi was and what she’d meant just by existing, and always stood up for her when she had the chance – “Aoi would never!” – just…
… changed.
It isn’t vanishing, like Mitsuba. And it isn’t that she doesn’t want to be friends anymore (does she?), because she seems to be… the same Nene. Everything about her is the same; when she focuses on something, she still furrows her brow, still sticks her tongue out just a little bit from between her lips. She still zones out the same way, apologizing as she snaps out of her thoughts. She still… is Nene.
Which is probably why it hurts so much – all the excuses. Nene is still Nene, and yet she won’t… talk to Aoi, anymore. It’s excuse after excuse where Nene used to come up with reasons for them to hang out together after school or on the weekends. Sorry, she’s busy. Sorry, she has somewhere to be.
Page eleven is where Nene talks about being confessed to by a boy that isn’t her type, but Aoi knows better. She’s a flustered mess, talking about how he’d kissed her, so Aoi… plays the part of a best friend and tries to encourage Nene.
Nene grows more distant anyway, until Aoi thinks she doesn’t know who she is anymore.
Still, her heart aches.
Page twelve is empty so that page eleven could be left untouched, because Aoi doesn’t want to destroy the moment. She’d made that page with at least some remnant of hope in her.
Page thirteen, on the other hand, is a tornado. Page thirteen is photos of sweet peas and orange lilies torn from magazines, red ink swept carelessly across the pages. Page thirteen is thick and dried unevenly, bringing unintentional focus to the gravestone drawn in the middle wherein a single spider lily blooms, near-invisible in the red.
Page thirteen reads I HATE YOU over and over and over and over.
Aoi wants to be the boy that Nene’s always dipping away too quickly to spend time with. Aoi wants to wrap her hands around his neck and not let go until he apologizes, crying, for taking Nene so completely away from her. Aoi wants to be the person Nene talks to the air about.
But she isn't, and she can't be.
That's, she thinks later, the final thread keeping her tethered to wanting to stay. Nene apologizes for not being able to walk home together and runs out of the classroom for the 24th day in a row (she's kept count), and Aoi feels the thread finally snap from being stretched so thin.
Aoi never finds out if the journal disappears during those long days of the Severance. She never finds out if her room blinks out of existence, or if it stays somehow inaccessible, and Aoi doesn’t think she wants to know. She’d wanted to go somewhere more, wanted to be someone other than the actress she kept having to be, and yet she ends up right back at home laying face-down on her bed like nothing changed.
(For a few blissful days, the world forgot about Aoi like it forgot about Mitsuba.)
Things probably didn’t change. Her father was still out there in the world somewhere, lying to the faces of people he claimed to love. Maybe Aoi takes after him more than she wants to admit, in that regard. Her mother’s schedule wouldn’t have changed. Things carried on.
Aoi doesn’t want to be back. She doesn’t want to be back, but she is, and she can still see Nene’s tearstained face in her mind. She can still see the face of the “honourable” Number Seven in her mind and Aoi still wants to wrap her hands around his neck. She could have. She didn’t. She didn’t, because he matters to Nene, and Aoi can’t possibly fathom why because he’s not much of anything and certainly not anywhere near good enough for her Nene-chan.
(But neither is she.)
She can still see Akane’s face, too; she can still feel him far too close to her. She can still repeat every word he’d said to her in her mind like it was happening again, and Aoi wants to be sick. She doesn’t know when she’d lost her childhood friend like that – she doesn’t remember when she started letting him. There’s an image of Aoi in his mind that, even moments from losing her for what should have been forever, he refused to let go off.
Aoi just wants to know what Akane’s like now. She wants to know if his favourite food has changed, if he has any new favourite songs, what places does he like to go? They never spend time together anymore because all he does is tell her that he loves her, but he doesn’t. She knows he doesn’t.
Being in love with an idea must be a wonderful thing, but being that idea is sickening.
Aoi feels the bile rising in her throat again and swallows it back down. Maybe she should grin and bear it, even now.
Page fourteen is in progress, a mess of swirls that leak off the page onto her desk and onto page fifteen. They don’t mean anything. Aoi just trails her pen thoughtlessly across the paper, in the hopes that some form of solace might come to her from it. It doesn’t. She doesn’t know how she used to be able to turn to this, as few pages as it is, and manage to channel something out to feel marginally better.
She opts to go bath, instead. The journal’s left open on her desk.
The bath doesn’t do anything, either. The water cools off too quickly where Aoi wants to leave herself soaking in it when it’s too hot, irritating her skin red, and she still can’t feel a thing. There should have been at least some difference, right? But Aoi feels… nothing. She still feels nothing as she steps out of the bath and wraps her hair loosely in a towel. She still feels nothing as she pulls her pyjamas back on, though they should be soft and comforting, and shuffles back to her room.
She does feel something when she steps through the doorway to see Nene standing by her desk. She feels her heart dropping to the pit of her stomach, and it’s the first genuine thing Aoi’s felt in months.
“Nene-chan–”
“Aoi,” Nene gasps out, startled by the sound of her voice. She’d been looking at the journal – Aoi can tell. She can’t bring herself to be mad, though she should. Shouldn’t she? Aoi’d always been so good at knowing exactly how to react in any given situation so long as someone was watching her. With Nene’s eyes on her, now, she… doesn’t, anymore.
They haven’t talked since Nene dragged her home.
“I’m sorry, I–” Nene’s clearly having a difficult time finding the words. Her eyes are glistening, like she’s about to cry, and she’s pursed her lips so tightly together that Aoi can see the blood draining from them. Aoi stays standing in the doorway, unmoving. “–the door was open, so I–”
Aoi’s mother had probably told Nene she could make herself at home without a bit of consideration for if Aoi was… no, she can’t actually fault her mother for that. Nene used to come over all the time. Aoi had never had a problem with Nene just showing up and letting herself in, back then.
“... shouldn’t you be spending time with Number Seven?” pours bitterly from Aoi’s lips before she can stop it. Nene’s face crumples for a moment, but she does a good job at not letting the tears spill over. Aoi doesn’t understand how Akane could have ever thought her crying face was cute, because with Nene seconds away from bawling at any given moment, all Aoi can think about is what a terrible thing it is to watch the person you love be so upset.
And all, her brain reminds her, because of you.
“Hanako-kun…” Nene glances to the journal, then back to Aoi. Softly, she shakes her head. “Aoi, I’m not here to talk about Hanako-kun.”
“That’s impressive,” Aoi snaps, unable to suppress the laugh that rises like some ugly beast from her.
“I want to go camping.”
“... huh?”
It’s not a beautiful scene. Aoi could compare it to her journal pages; terrible, destructive, even as the soft light of the sun pours in through her window. In any other situation, it could have felt like a fairy tale. Instead there are two girls with a torn thread between them, who can barely find the words to talk to one another when they used to be able to share every secret under the sun. Somewhere along the way, Nene stopped being able to trust Aoi. Somewhere along the way, Aoi stopped being able to trust herself.
“Just the two of us.” When Nene continues, it’s obvious she’s lost what little bravery she had coming into this. Her voice is shaking, and Aoi feels again (a terrible, all-consuming desire to hold Nene close, to bury her face against her neck and apologize for it all). “Spending time together like we used to. My mum said she could drive us – I found a campsite I think is nice, and… I…” She trails off, raising a hand to tuck a few stray strands of hair behind her ear.
Aoi opens her mouth to say no. She wants Nene to get out of her room; she just wants to be left alone again. But Nene finally closes the distance between the two of them and takes Aoi’s hands in her own; her skin’s soft. Her gaze drops, because Nene’s eyes are so wide and genuine that Aoi can’t bring herself to look directly at her.
“Please?” Nene’s voice is so soft that Aoi worries if she agrees, she might cause it all to shatter. Everything seems so brittle – her personality, the pedestal she’s on, her friendships. But Nene grips her hands a little tighter, steadies her voice, and tries again: “Please, Aoi?”
You read the journal, Aoi wants to say, but she can’t find her voice.
So, instead, Aoi lets herself nod.
The atmosphere in the car is heavy, even while Nene’s mother makes awkward small talk, about how it’s been so long since she’s seen Nene and Aoi properly spend some time together. The heaviness doesn’t leave after they check in to the campsite.
Nene nags Aoi into helping her set-up the tent; falling back into the motions of something is surprisingly comforting, even though she feels like all her joints are sore. The both of them look like they haven’t slept in who knows how long – they probably haven’t.
Nene collapses completely inside once the tent is set up, arms spread out, groaning dramatically. Aoi seats herself down as absolutely opposite from Nene as she can.
They sit in silence. Aoi doesn’t know how many minutes pass.
“Nene-chan–” she finally starts.
“Aoi–” Nene begins at the same time, so they both fall quiet again.
Aoi glances out the front of the tent and shrugs lightly, letting Nene know that it’s her turn to speak if she wants to. She can hear Nene take a breath and the crinkling of the tent floor, no doubt signifying that Nene’s sat up.
“I’m not going to ask you to talk about it,” Nene says after a moment. “I know there’s a lot on your… on both of our minds. I – I wanted to apologize, Aoi.”
Aoi stays silent. If she doesn’t talk, the mask won’t crumble. If she doesn’t talk, she can keep acting like this isn’t tearing her completely apart. If she doesn’t talk, she can act like she hasn’t been terribly, achingly in love with Nene for nearly a year now (and likely even before – how long did she love her, unaware of it herself?).
“I should’ve… I should’ve found some way to include you. It wasn’t fair of me to keep everything from you, to keep pushing you away, and then – and then you were gone, Aoi. I – I had all of these things planned, and suddenly I couldn’t do them with you.” Nene’s struggling still. Aoi turns back, eyes shut, thin-line smile stretched across her lips as fake as ever.
“I’m sorry about that, Nene-chan.”
Nene sighs so loudly that Aoi’s eyes reopen. She’s raised her hands to tug at her hair, exasperated, and the next words spill out in a mess that Nene must have been practicing in her head over and over but failed to follow the script at the last minute. “I don’t know if you are, Aoi. And that’s – that’s okay.”
Aoi feels like she’s been stabbed in the chest.
“You don’t need to be sorry,” Nene continues; her hands fall to her lap, and she laces and unlaces her fingers together repeatedly. “But I am. I had so many things I wanted to do. I wanted to graduate with you. I wanted to meet up on university breaks and get ice cream with you. I wanted to coordinate matching outfits on silly little shopping trips. And suddenly, you weren’t there. I couldn’t do any of that.”
It hurts, but it’s the first time Aoi feels like someone’s really seen her. It’s such a little thing, just six simple words, but they’re something so refreshing to finally hear. You don’t need to be sorry echoes in Aoi’s head.
Nene’s still wringing her hands.
“... I kept a lot of things… from you, Aoi. I didn’t tell you things I should have. So I’m – I can’t tell you ‘you should have talked to me’, because it… neither of us did. But I… I want us to start. I want us to be best friends again, Aoi.”
“I don’t–” Aoi’s voice cracks. Instead of steadying it and trying again, she lets herself crumble. “–I don’t think we can be, Nene-chan.”
For a moment, there’s nothing but the sound of the breeze and the swelling thrum of cicadas. Aoi manages to keep her tears quiet. They’re pouring down her cheeks and she’s making such an ugly expression, and she thinks back to all the times Akane told her he loved her and she wanted to tear her skin clean off. Aoi’s laid herself bare in front of someone finally, and she knows there’s no way Nene will ever want to see her again.
But Nene moves closer and gently cups Aoi’s cheeks in her hands. It startles her so terribly that Aoi jumps, and the tears keep falling, but Nene brushes them away with her thumb.
“I’m sorry, Aoi.” Nene’s eyes glisten and then she’s crying, too, and Aoi doesn’t know what to do. Her hands raise to rest on Nene’s arms like she wants to move them away, but she can’t bring herself to. Instead, in a moment of selfishness, she lets herself melt into Nene’s touch. “I’m so sorry. I’m sorry I wasn’t there for you when you needed me most.”
And it’s so – it’s so genuine. Nene’s always worn her heart so plainly on her sleeve, and in the tent, just the two of them, with just the cicadas and the breeze and two crying girls – Nene’s looking at Aoi, really looking at her, and for once seeing everything. Aoi doesn’t need to look back to know that.
Her breath hitches in her throat.
“Does Number Seven make you happy?” Does he love you like you deserve to be loved? hangs unspoken in the air.
Nene sighs through her tears. “Hanako-kun is – someone… very important to me. But he’s not… a human, Aoi. He hasn’t been human in a very long time. He always runs off and does things without – he does things I don’t want him to. He’s made me happy, but I don’t – we aren’t –”
(Aoi doesn’t dare let herself hope.)
“–I’m not in love with Hanako-kun, Aoi.”
(Aoi doesn’t–)
“... Nene-chan?”
“I’m sorry I read the journal,” Nene continues. She’s looked away now, but her hands are still resting on Aoi’s face. She’s still brushing the tears away. “I don’t know exactly what it meant, but I… didn’t realize what it was, or I would have stopped. Promise.” She hesitates, but seems to force herself to continue: “You – you’ve thought I’ve been in love with Hanako-kun for a long time, haven’t you?”
With her heart pounding terribly in her chest, begging to be let free, Aoi allows herself to nod.
“I’m sorry it took me this long to realize.” Nene’s voice cracks so terribly that Aoi glances back up, finally, and Nene is sobbing. Sobbing for her. She can’t make sense of it. “I’m so sorry, Aoi. I – I missed you so terribly, and I never noticed that –”
“I’ve said such awful things.” Aoi’s voice is so weak. She can barely hear herself over the blood rushing through her ears. “I’ve been so awful, Nene-chan. I can’t take any of it back, I meant all of it, I–”
“I know,” comes Nene’s reply. “I know.”
Silence falls over them again, and time seems to slow.
“I love you, Aoi.”
Time freezes entirely. Aoi doesn’t feel any rush of nausea; no bile builds in her throat. There’s no need to grade Nene on a performance, because she’s not performing. It’s not going through the motions – and it’s said so earnestly, as genuinely as Nene’s ever meant anything, with so much more weight than her head-in-the-clouds sighs over her boy of the hour. She doesn’t feel the want to claw her skin open.
Nene’s seen all of the terrible things Aoi can be, and she’s looking at her right now and telling her that she loves her. Because of them? In spite of them? Aoi doesn’t know how she can say it and mean it, but there’s not a single speck of doubt in Nene’s voice.
There’s no expectation that one day Aoi should accept Nene’s confession because that’s what she’s supposed to do; there’s no pressure that she’s so terrible for not returning feelings just because she should. Nene confesses and falls quiet and lets her hands fall back down to her lap, opens her mouth like she’s going to apologize for saying too much, and everything… feels… fine.
Aoi feels… fine.
As fine as she’s felt in a long, long time.
“Oh, Nene-chan,” she breathes out; with shaking hands, Aoi takes hold of Nene’s own, and allows herself to be vulnerable.
Page sixteen is a single photo glued to an otherwise blank page. It’s a printed out photo, taken on Nene’s cellphone, of the two of them sitting in front of their tent as the sun sets. They both look like they should be miserable; they’ve clearly been crying. But Nene’s grinning wide as anything, a grin that makes Aoi feel like she can accomplish anything for the first time in forever.
And there’s a light back in Aoi’s eyes. It’s faint, but it’s a light all the same.
It’s not perfect; Aoi’s done something terrible. It isn’t something that can be remedied in one camping trip and a few sobbed out words. But there’s something she has again now that she hasn’t in a long time –
– hope.
Hope, shared in a first kiss between two crying girls under the summer heat in their tent. Hope, shared in instant ramen and laughter so foreign to her now that it made Aoi’s throat hurt. Hope, in Nene promising that they’d be able to catch up on everything, that she wouldn’t keep secrets from Aoi anymore. Hope, in Nene saying, too, that if Aoi still has to keep some secrets of her own, she doesn’t mind.
Hope, in several “I love you, Aoi”s echoing in her head, and finally a nervous, returned, “I love you too, Nene-chan”, admitted out loud.
(Girls don’t have to love boys.)
Aoi shuts the journal and returns it to its place on her desk. Her hand moves to rest above her heart.
To the side, her phone lights up.
Nene-chan (now)
it’s sooo hot today aoi
wanna get ice cream?? (´｡• ω •｡`)
… and Aoi allows herself to say yes.