Chapter Text
i would trade everything to be a no one. a person in the background of someone’s life rather than be part of it one way or another. i’ve noticed no one is really a no one, they always get strung up in someone’s life one way or another. [your name] for example.
im not the type to wonder about people but she has been on my mind for weeks, when i bumped into her that one morning assembly and her thoughts was louder than everyone else and it wasn’t even about romance, or family, or gossip, or about her. it was lyrics of songs. a song.
everywhere she is, all i can hear is her singing songs to herself as she stood there, staring into nothing. how is it she doesn’t have anything in her mind other those damn lyrics. they’re not even Japanese. but that would make sense, she isn’t even Japanese. Half, she’s half Japanese.
Cute thing, Don’t be rude thing
It had a catchy tune though, I found myself humming it at times and I was unaware of this until recently where instead of hearing her sing, she actually had something running through her head.
“This sucks. This place sucks.”
Huh, you and me sister.
“I wonder where it is. My iPod, I swear i kept it safely in my bag yesterday, my dads gonna kill me when he finds out I’ve lost it. But i’m not even sure if they’re expensive. I wonder.”
She lost her iPod. Who even uses iPod nowadays. Apparently [your name] does.
Anyway, I wouldn’t usually try and help someone with their lost things, in fact I’d rather be walking back home but I found myself in the boy’s lavatory, inside a cubicle, trying to find her iPod with my psychic powers.
I sighed, realizing what I’m doing and shaking my head. I have found where she kept her iPod though, it’s still in her bag, buried with all the paper and notebooks she brings to school.
She is quite the good student though, top of the class actually.
But she needs to find that iPod, so then she can start singing again and— no— no i shouldn’t be saying that. I have no interest in her or her stupid Cute thing song and her humming and whatever.
I do not care for [your name], and her iPod, and her stupid song.
I stood quietly behind her, seeing her dig through her messy bag, the gasp and sigh of relief escaping her mouth as she pulled out her missing iPod, a small laugh escaping her lips as she grinned and wiggled her shoulders as a little dance, It felt nice seeing her like that— so happy.
For a second, I smiled at how happy she was finally finding the useless mp3 player she’ll one day replace, but it’s still nice. It must hold a lot of sentiment to her.