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A Eulogy (Don’t worry, no one is dead) by Todoroki Shouto.
Loving a boy like you was something I could never really regret.
But god, did people tell me I should.
I met you when a bully stole my favorite hat and threw it up in the sky until it got stuck in a tree. You chased them off with a stick and used that same stick to retrieve my hat for me. By the time you did that, a small bird was nestled in there, chirping, chirping, chirping…
Maybe it was warning me about you?
I don’t know. I didn’t listen.
You had one tooth missing when you smiled at me that day. I thought you were beautiful then, scratches and dinosaur band-aids on your knees and all. My father had a different definition of beauty and you definitely weren’t it. But when have I ever cared what my father thought? You certainly knew that. You were the one who drove the car on the day I snuck out of my house for the first time. We sang the entire Rent cast recording, harmonizing terribly, and butchering every high note Mimi sang in Out Tonight but I thought we could give Tony winners a run for their money.
My love for you was overflowing, like a fountain springing to life on the hottest day of summer. Electrifying even on days when the power cut off in your apartment and we had to make a mini bonfire in your trashcan. Illuminated by the flames, you were still beautiful. You had a few more laugh lines, even at 23, but your laugh screamed of youth that was yet to unravel and create a melody the world would soon hum beneath their breaths.
You were my favorite song. The words never rhymed and god forbid there be a rhythm I could even dance along to. But you were my favorite song. Better than anything I ever heard on the radio. You’re the song I turn to at 3am when the world’s noises overwhelm me. You’re the song I sang when I thought I didn’t have a voice left within me. You’re my favorite song. You are my favorite song.
If you put me on shuffle would you pause and listen too?
The world never listened to you. Never listened to us. That’s why you were so angry all the time and I was angry with you. Fuck the world for telling us we couldn’t be who we are! Fuck all of them for getting their dirty hands on a relationship that meant everything to me. You were everything to me.
They told us we couldn’t be together.
But fuck them, right?
Thrown stones on windowsills and giggles in back alleyways became our love language. Whispered “ let’s make it quick” and “my parents aren’t home” were freedom though we felt caged in a society that refused to give us the key. But what was it they said? Those pretentious art geeks at the square? “ A caged bird sings?” I thought I established that neither of us could sing. But we screamed Bohemian Rhapsody at the top of our lungs on the hood of your beat-up old Toyota corolla, stolen Heineken bottles littering the floor. A caged bird could still sing but it doesn’t mean its song is a happy one.
Were you happy?
Were you happy with me?
I wish you’d return my calls. I wish your number was the same. I still have you saved as Newsie Cap Savior and I have never changed it since. Do you remember when I first got your number? It was at a party on fifth avenue where the weed smoke was thicker than the cold winter air. You were hanging out by the fire escape, twisting the metal of a soju bottle until it resembled a janky ring. You took a swig from that bottle ‘till I asked if I could take a sip.
I still thought you were beautiful then. Leather jacket, combat boots, and ripped up skinny jeans that left nothing to the imagination. You called yourself a manwhore then but I called you divine. You called yourself a loser and a hazard to society but I wanted to call you mine. You said “then just call me later,” and inputted your number on my phone like you’ve done it a million times before. Probably with other men who are ten times more handsome than me. Probably with other women who could pleasure you beyond your wildest dreams.
I couldn’t be any of them.
But hey… I still called you mine.
I was yours. Inexplicably, indefinitely, and wholeheartedly yours. I don’t think you understand how much of my future I planned with you by my side. Because I called you mine and you called me yours. I pictured a two storey apartment and three cats — you on the ugly mustard colored couch reading a book and me crossed-legged on the coffee table knitting you a scarf.
We’d have a view of the city that hated us so much. We’d watch the sunset and sunrise everyday without fail. We’d forget to spay and neuter our pets so we’d have to give up the kittens for adoption. We wouldn’t know which of our two male cats was the father but that didn’t matter because we loved them all anyway. We’d figure it all out because that’s just what we do. We figure things out.
I guess I was just hoping we’d figure us out too.
I think it was unfair to you in the long run. It was unfair to me at that moment. In our brief moment of bliss, we’d suddenly be thrust back into the world that reminded us constantly of the injustices people like you and me face. You called me one day sobbing because your friend got shot and I ran to your apartment to console you who had your clothes stained with his blood. I took you to the hospital to see your friend and I never held your hand as tightly as I did then. Maybe if I did, I wouldn’t have been unfortunate enough to see you go.
…
But fuck me, right?
Fuck. Me.
Maybe we weren’t right for each other. Maybe the stars just weren’t aligned when we were together. Maybe it was society. Maybe it was our own insecurities. I don’t know if I’m making any sense. Nothing will ever truly make sense but what does make sense is still the mere fact that I loved you — and still love you. I loved you when everyone else was telling me that my love couldn’t be. I loved you during the storm and continued to love you when the rain let up. I loved you through every birthday party, every stone thrown at the windowsill, every newsie cap you saved, every trashcan bonfire, whispered promises, and kisses stolen in the blink of an eye.
And I know you loved me too.
Maybe you still do?
The bird that was in my hat when you rescued it chirps constantly in my dreams. This time I listened. But it’s not really warning me about you. No. It’s just telling me I did the right thing even if everyone was telling me I was wrong. Because we weren’t wrong. We aren’t wrong for loving.
Loving a boy like you was something I could never really regret.
I hope our time together is something you never regretted either, Katsuki.
By the way? My number is still the same.