Chapter Text
I love video games.
I love video games.
Not unrequited love. Or love in general. The thought of love is too much work. What’s even more worse? The thought of loving someone. Anything related to love is too much work. It’s draining and disturbing. So why? Why did I have to see the red string of fate? Was it because of my ignorance of love? Because I didn’t want to be part of such thing?
Maybe I should’ve kept my mouth shut. Now God hates me and is giving back karma. Yes, this is exactly it. Karma. It can be because of something. I refuse to believe so. This is definitely karma. And I’m okay with that. I’m okay with it because it’s karma. Not because God thinks I’ll make some kind of miracle of liking the thought of love. I don’t want to believe in that.
It’s really such a drag that it had to be me who sees the red string of fate. I can’t be only one, can I? Ah, just the thought of it drains me. I gotta stop thinking so I don’t feel so tired already.
I look at the boy in front of me. I look at the way his raven locks sway with the breeze. I look at the way his blue eyes glimmer when the marbles tap against each other. I look at the way he jumps excitedly from winning. I hate it. I hate that Isagi Yoichi is my red string of fate.
Ever since we met at the age of 6, I saw the way the red string in his pinkie finger made its way with my own pinkie finger. We were connected. It was fate. It was karma. It was torture. It’s all my fault. I should’ve never jinxed myself.
Now this is all gonna cost me a waste of my life.
Why Isagi Yoichi? Why him? Out all people? Why not Reo? My good old friend? The one who knows me. My other half. Why not him? Why Isagi Yoichi?
Just the thought of it makes me wanna die. I want to rest. I don’t want to think about it. It’s draining me, I’m gonna die.
”Nagi is falling asleep already~” Bachira’s voice cuts through my thoughts as I’m about to close my eyes. God damn him.
“Shut up,” I mumble. Talking is too much to do.
“Wake up, baby chick~” Bachira sings, tapping me in my cheeks. I slap his hand away from my face. He flinched and backs away. My eyes trail to find Isagi’s figure. He looks stunned but doesn’t say anything, figuring it’s just maybe about my usual attitude. But it’s not. It’s not my usual attitude. I feel different than before. It’s rather ravishing. I don’t know if I like it.
”Rin you’re up next,” Reo informs, marbles hiding inside his hands. Rin grins, as if he already knows he’s gonna win. I watch from the spot where I lay in the blanket spread around the grass where we play with marbles.
Kunigami has his arm around Chigiri’s shoulders, watching the game play out. They’ve always been so close with each other. Something like what me and Reo have. Actually, they’re much more closer than what me and Reo have, because they’re linked by the red string fate. Yes, I know this because I can see it. The stupid red string fate.
“You got this Rin!” Bachira beams.
”I know.” Rin replies, his tone is massively filled with enough ego to set me off edge. I hold back rolling my eyes.
Just like God’s favorite, Rin wins. Isagi groans in defeat. I don’t understand how such a small silly game can set them this excited.
”Next one, Isagi.” Bachira reassures, patting Isagi’s shoulder as a friendly gesture. Isagi nods, cooling off the temptations of the thought of winning. He walks towards me and kneels down in front of me. I try not to flinch by the sudden closer. The red string sways around us like invisible fate. I try not to look at the string because he can’t see it. Only I can.
“Looks like they came this way,” he says, grabbing something from the ground only for it to be some marbles.
“Why don’t you play?” Isagi wonders.
I shrug my shoulder as I lay in the grass. It’s not a question that makes me think too much that it drains me apart. “Because I have no interest,” I respond surely.
Isagi frowns. “Aw that sucks.” And then he’s gone. The red string departs away from me. But it’s still there. It’s still connected to my pinkie finger. To his pinkie finger.
I collect my thoughts and try not to think of it anymore. It’s already a hard job even thinking about it. Now thinking-thinking about is even more troublesome. It’s too much work even thinking about it.
I want to go home.