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At 13, Muku knew immediately that he wanted to be with him. He had seen him around in the noisy halls of his school. Oh how he longed to live his shoujo manga dreams with this beautiful princess at his side…
And so the story begins.
At 14, they formally meet. Something that he never expected, believing that he would only remain in his daydreams. They laugh with each other, bond with each other, confide in each other. Muku’s smile grows wider by the day, yet his self-loathing never seemed to shrink.
At 15, he asks him out. He declines. Oh. He explains that it’s not in a “friend” way. He still declines. Oh.
“I like someone already.” Oh.
He musters up a sad, knowing smile. “That’s okay XXXX. I was never meant to be loved anyways, I know that."
“Hey, I never said—”
Muku runs. He runs and runs. Until he hits a pole.
No. It’s Sakyo-san.
“Watch where you're going Sakisaka!” He barks. “What’s the rush?”
He blinks. Once. Twice. He weeps. He weeps in Sakyo-san’s arms. Everything else ends up being a blur.
At 16, he’s known his new love interest for about a year now. They remind him of XXXX. He looks out the window, into the courtyard. He can clearly see his first love from this view. He’s cuddling with his boyfriend. He feels his eyes start to well up.
“Muku-san.”
He turns. “Hm. Azami-kun?”
“You were spacing out.”
“Sorry.” He blushes, he’s embarrassed, but somewhere in the depths of his soul he knows he doesn't mean it.
“So?” He says expectantly. “What were you going to ask me?”
Muku takes a deep breath.
“Will you be my boyfriend?”
Later that evening when he’s on his way to the kitchen, he overhears Sakyo-san from his shared dorm. “Be careful. I don’t want you to get hurt.”
“Fuck off . I know what I’m doing. I can take care of myself, ossan .”
Muku scrunches up his eyebrows. He’s confused. He would never hurt anyone.
Muku is 19. Azami is 18. And he’s had enough.
“I’m done, Muku.” Azami is crying now. “I’m fucking done.”
“I know you are.” He mutters back. Of course he knows. “I don’t deserve you. I never did. You deserve the world. I’m just a jerk, an absolute asshole, a waste of t—”
“Cut the bullshit, Sakisaka. All you ever seemed to do was make me feel bad for loving you. I never got it.” He shakes his head. “Until now. You still love him. I can’t believe you. I was just his replacement.”
“I’m sorry.” Is all he can say. What else could he say?
Azami laughs, “You’re sorry? You’re fucking sorry?” He runs his slender fingers through his hair. He’s stressed. Muku can tell. You begin to learn the small details when you spend enough time with someone. “Maybe you should’ve thought about that before you decided to have me waste three years of my life loving someone who never really loved me back!”
This was nothing like any of the shoujo mangas he’s read. He doesn’t know where he went wrong. Everything is wrong.
“Your father was right.” His head is hanging low, if he doesn't look up at Azami, maybe he can will him and his many mistakes somewhere far, far away.
“What?”
“Your father, Sakyo-san….”
“What are you saying? He’s not my—. No wait, what do you mean, ‘he was right’?”
“I hurt you.” Muku feels empty saying it out loud. Almost like he can’t quite believe the words he’s saying, but he continues nonetheless. “Sakyo-san was right. He said I would.”
Azami’s confusion turns into immediate understanding, then pain. He falls into Muku’s arms unwillingly, but instinctively. He’s weeping. Muku finds this unnervingly familiar.
“I’m so sorry he was right.” His voice is barely above a whisper as he embraces Azami, rubbing his back in between his hiccups and sobs. “I’ve been nothing but a problem for you, I’m so sorry...”
Azami was left to cry about it overnight.
Now 20, Muku writes about his past experiences in a journal.
He knows that he can’t love anymore. He hasn’t been able to since XXXX.
He misses Azami. At least he’s happier without him now.
God.
Muku wishes he could love again.
His pencil breaks.
He’s tired of writing but his fingers itch. He reaches over his desk to grab a volume of his favorite shoujo manga from when he was 14.
As he’s reading, all he can hear in the back of his mind is, I wish I could love again.