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Seki spots Shimizu from the doorway.
He can’t see his face very well since there were two boys covering him, but he can see the awkward feet shuffle beyond the two boys’ legs that he knows belongs to Shimizu. Seki enters the classroom and bangs his fist on the table.
“Hey!”
The two boys don’t bother turning their shoulders to face Seki. They only barely turn their heads around to scowl at him.
“What do you want? We’re a little busy.” Seki notices that the boy’s fist is holding Shimizu’s collar.
Shimizu sees Seki past the boy’s head and smiles his big stupid smile and Seki knows he has no idea what’s going on. He’s just trying to make everyone happy.
It pisses him off.
“What happened last time? We saw you in the halls, but you didn’t give us any money. Think you can make up for it now?” the second boy asks Shimizu, obviously continuing the conversation they were having before Seki came. Seki can tell he’s grinning, playing Shimizu for the fool that he is.
Seki shoves his hands into his pockets and makes his way up to them. He kicks the boy holding Shimizu by the collar behind his knees and kicks the second boy in the space between his legs. The second boy crumbles with loud cries of pain, but the first one gets up and hurriedly crawls a few feet away from them.
He turns to them, his hands fumbling in his pockets. “I’m not scared of you! You’re the kid who’s scared of—”
“Fire,” Seki finishes for him as he pushes his foot into the boy’s face hard enough to make his head collide with the wall. He grinds his foot in, feeling satisfied when the boy suddenly whimpers in pain and there’s blood dripping down his face. “Shimizu, let’s go.”
He sees Shimizu still standing by the window. He’s not doing the awkward shuffle anymore, but is instead fiddling with the frayed ends of his scarf with his eyes staring down at the floor, moving from left to right. “Okay,” he says timidly. He steps around the second boy who is still lying on the floor and waits for Seki to walk out the classroom with him.
“I said I’d protect you but I thought you were also gonna try to avoid them.” Seki can’t help the whining tone that creeps into his voice. He’s tired of people trying to push a lighter into his face. If Shimizu hadn’t been so dense and had noticed the whining, Seki would have been incredibly embarrassed. He nudges Shimizu with his shoulder when he takes a little too long to answer.
“Mm, I did but I guess they just found me,” Shimizu answers nervously and keeps scanning the floor for invisible points of interest. Every time he says something, there is always the sense of a question as if he wasn’t quite sure what the answer was—which wasn’t surprising considering how often Seki had to correct him because of how clueless he was sometimes. Shimizu tugs at the ends of his scarf and walks just a little bit slower.
“You’re gonna choke if you pull that thing so much,” Seki mutters. He doesn’t slow his pace down. “Well, I gotta go. See you after school.”
Shimizu continues to walk slowly, pulling at his scarf even harder. He looks up just in time to see Seki turn the corner at the end of the hall, then he comes to a standstill. The corners of his mouth droop as he makes his way to the window and looks up into the sky, searching for something otherworldly.
He smiles when something from high above waves at him.
//
“Shimizu, it’s this way! Did you already forget?”
Shimizu tears his eyes away from the candy shop he had unknowingly been walking towards in the opposite direction of his house. He stares at it for just a little longer, then rushes to catch up with Seki. “I didn’t forget.”
“Then?” Seki prompts.
“Um...” Shimizu looks off to the side from the corner of his eyes, trying to think of a way to avoid the question. “Um...”
Seki throws his arm around Shimizu’s neck and grabs him in a headlock in spite of Shimizu’s weak protests. “Well, whatever. You’re lucky I’m here to guide you. What would you do without me?” he asks rhetorically.
Shimizu makes a noncommittal sound. Though being in a headlock is a bit uncomfortable, Shimizu has to admit that deep inside, he feels comfortable. It’s almost like a safe spot where he is just lead around by Seki—which is kind of a problem. He straightens up when Seki’s hold goes slack and lets his arms slide off.
“You got any cash?” Seki asks nonchalantly.
“No.” Shimizu searches his pockets anyway.
“Fine, I guess we can make do with mine.” With a big sigh, Seki reaches into his pockets and pulls out several bills and starts counting them in his head.. “It’s from one of those stupid cleaning jobs. Had to clean a grandmother’s house from top to bottom and it was hard! Annoying, too, with her cats and all. She paid pretty good though so I guess I can’t complain.” He finishes counting his money. “Shimizu.”
Shimizu jerks his head up, surprised at being directly addressed so suddenly. Usually, when Seki starts to talk about things like his jobs, he doesn’t really expect an answer so Shimizu just listens.
Seki thrust some money at him. “Here. To make up for. . .nothing. Go buy us some candy and food at the store up ahead.” For a moment Shimizu looks at him questioningly, but Seki motions for him to go with his hand. Shimizu half-runs-half-skips to the store, but Seki takes his time getting there. He sits on the bench near the store, leans back, closes his eyes, and waits. He’s almost positive it will take longer than 15 minutes.
Sure enough, Shimizu emerges from the store almost half an hour later. Seki knows he didn’t give Shimizu a lot money and that Shimizu tends to be indecisive, but does getting candy and food really take him that long?
“You took forever! How long does it take you to do something simple like get candy? Even you should have been out in five minutes,” Seki complains when he hears footsteps approach him.
There’s the rustling sound of plastic bags as two hands cover his eyes. If Seki had any doubts about the footsteps belonging to Shimizu, he didn’t have any now. Shimizu’s hands were always soft and they were always warm and. . .feathery, meaning that they were always light and gentle. His grips were never that strong and his hands were always limp whenever Seki asked him to hold something. His hands were really huge contrast with Seki’s own hands. Since he did more manual labor, his hands were calloused, always cold, and he always tended to put more force into his actions.
Huh, now that Seki thinks about it, hands really can tell a lot about a person.
He wraps his fingers around Shimizu’s wrists, but doesn’t make a move to push his hands away from his eyes.
“You know, it’s a lot easier to talk in the dark, when you can’t see anything. I mean sometimes it's hard talking to someone face-to-face—’cause you can see them and they can see you as you say those things directly in front of them and if you say something, I don’t know, funny, you can’t exactly pretend it didn’t happen because you saw it happen. You were right there in front of them, staring at them when it happened. Which, I guess, sort of explains why it’s so easy to talk to yourself whenever—you always think things over in your head anyway. It’s probably also why people have serious conversations face-to-face, right? You can’t hide anything that way. And then people talk to each other in the dark when it’s something embarrassing—or at least when the person saying the embarrassing things isn’t looking.” Seki blinks from behind Shimizu’s hands, his palms so close, Seki can feel his eyelashes brushing against them. His eyes feel too dry. He wants to go to sleep. “Shimizu.” Seki pulls Shimizu’s hands away from his eyes and looks up.
Shimizu is looking down at him, his nose clean for once, and a stupid, soft smile on his face.
“Let’s go home.”
As they walk home, Seki isn’t really listening to Shimizu tell him about how nice the lady was and how he ended up with a whole package of meat buns and three pounds of candy and how she let him choose all of it partly because he knew she would (she recognized Shimizu as the “poor little boy who never quite recovered after his mama’s really bad accident”), partly because he isn’t really interested, and mostly because there is something else on his mind.
The entire way home, Seki curses himself for almost smiling after seeing the way Shimizu was still standing there with no complaints. Sometimes, Shimizu made Seki think he was actually reliable.
//
“How were your entrance exams?” Seki asks as he starts the recycling truck’s engine.
Shimizu doesn’t answer, busying himself with the ends of his scarf by tying together the loose ends of yarn, undoing the knots, then redoing them.
Seki grabs a rolled up magazine from the pocket of the door and hits Shimizu’s head with it. “Hey, listen to me.”
“Hm? Oh, sorry Seki. I wasn’t. . .paying attention.” Shimizu’s previously distant expression becomes downcast, as if he was just scolded for doing something wrong.
Seki sighs. He hadn’t meant to upset him. “Just tell me how you did on your exams.”
“. . .”
“Well?” Seki is starting to think that Shimizu had heard him earlier, except that he had ignored him. The nerve, seriously.
“. . .I didn’t take them,” Shimizu mumbles so quietly, Seki has to ask him to repeat it.
“What do you mean you didn’t take them?” Seki shouts at him.
Shimizu visibly shrinks in his seat. He brings his feet up on the seat and hugs his knees to his chest, an attempt to curl in on himself so he can hide. He won’t even look at Seki. “I didn’t go to the testing site.”
“Hah?! Why the hell not?”
“I didn’t really want to.”
Seki slams down on the breaks. Shimizu nearly bangs his head on the dashboard. “Why the hell not? Is it because you got so used to hanging out with me? If you had been more independant and tried to think about your future on your own once in a while, maybe you would have gone! I told you to be more independant. Ah, you can be such a bother.” Seki frowns at Shimizu. “And don’t look so pitiful like that.”
In response, Shimizu puts on the hood of his sweater and pulls it down over his face. “There was. . .I had a feeling that I shouldn’t.”
Seki starts driving again. He groans. “Don’t give me that crap again. It was the poop god wasn’t it?” He takes the way Shimizu pulls the hood down even lower over his face as confirmation. “I told you to quit talking about that stuff. You aren’t a kid anymore and you’re still gonna pretend you can see it? You’re just pretending to be stupid now aren’t you? So damn annoying!”
They continue the drive in silence until they get near the bus station, where Seki usually drops off Shimizu since it passes his work route. All throughout the drive, Seki kept glancing at Shimizu but Shimizu didn’t even budge from his position.
“Look, there’s the—”
“I know.”
As soon as Seki steps on the breaks, Shimizu opens his door and unbuckles his seatbelt. He slides off the seat and stands on the sidewalk. Even as he closes the door, he doesn’t meet Seki’s eyes and stays quiet.
“What’s your problem?” After a moment, Seki continues. “Don't think about what I said so hard. I'm always saying all kinds of things anyway.”
“Did you mean it?” Shimizu asks quietly.
“Mean what? Actually, what’s the point of asking that? Didn’t you just hear me say not to think about it? I’m gonna be late so I gotta go. Bye.” Seki doesn’t look at him as he drives away, not that it would’ve mattered since Shimizu didn’t look at him either.
“But he was right. I got into the university I wanted anyway,” Shimizu whispers to the sidewalk.
//
“Shimizu, let’s go.”
“You said I’m a bother to you, so why don’t you go home on your own. I can go on my own.” Shimizu keeps his eyes glued on his shoes as they swing in the air. The bench seat is a little too tall for him.
“What are you saying? I have the car so I can drop you off. Let’s go already,” Seki says sounding exasperated. “You can’t do anything witho—”
“No! You don’t understand anything about me!” As soon as the words leave his mouth, Shimizu feels his heart stop and his mind go fuzzy. An empty feeling settles in his stomach and he feels like the wind is gently pulling something out of him. He’s. . . scared.
“You know what? Do whatever you want, dumbass! It’s not like it’ll make a difference to me!” Seki yells at him. He steps on the gas pedal a lot harder than needed and the truck jumps forward and races away.
“Who does he think he is?” Seki asks himself. “When he calls later, I’m gonna. . .” Seki stops the car in a quiet neighborhood and bangs his head against the steering wheel. “Fuck,” he mutters when he realizes that something feels different about the current situation.
They had barely argued before. Shimizu usually just agreed to nearly everything Seki said or did and hardly ever put up a fight, but this was a sudden outburst that sounded a lot more genuine and a lot more pained than Seki wanted to admit. He expected Shimizu to crumble and call him back, not stand his ground. Seki was positive something big had happened between them, but for the first time he wasn’t in control of the situation. Now, he isn’t sure what it meant, if it meant anything, what will happen, or what he’s gonna do.
Maybe he’ll go visit him later. Or call his house. Or see him on his morning route. Or maybe not. It’ll probably be fine if he just waits a little. He’s probably thinking too much about it.
Seki doesn’t call. Or visit. Or see him on his morning route. He waits and waits and waits, not sure what he’s waiting for but nonetheless expects something to happen. All the while, something feels wrong and out of place.
He ignores it and the amount of time spent waiting stretches longer.
//
Shimizu sees Seki on his way to where Pegasus scheduled their latest meeting. A feeling of shame slowly creeps into the pit of his stomach.
“Shimizu, I’m really concerned. You shouldn’t be hanging around with them. It’s pretty sketchy.”
Shimizu wonders what happened to Seki. Judging by the giant bumps and bruises on his face, his swollen eye, not to mention the dried blood still there and the scabs, Shimizu thinks he might have gotten into some trouble like before. Something about that is comforting; he hasn’t changed all that much.
“How about you just quit the whole thing and come with me to Tibet and we’ll become monks or something? I’ve got some money now.” Seki stares at Shimizu and patiently waits for his answer. He kicks at the dirt with his right foot.
“You’re not really worried about me. You’re only doing this for yourself,” Shimizu says quietly. “That’s why I decided to be useful to someone else.” He grips the straps of his backpack and holds his breath.
“I see. See you then, Shimizu.” Before he can hear Shimizu say anything else, Seki turns around and walks away. He felt vulnerable standing there, asking Shimizu to go on a trip with him only to be told that he was being selfish. He knows he wouldn’t have been able to stay there and watch Shimizu walk away to go meet his new group. Okay, whatever. Fine. If Shimizu was going to leave Seki for the new group, then Seki could at least be the one to walk away first.
There is a burst of courage that goes through Shimizu and makes his mouth move. “But—” Shimizu begins, but when he turns around, Seki is gone. He can’t help but feel something inside of him deflate and there is a sudden pain in his chest. He hadn’t really expected Seki to stay but a part of him had still hoped he would.
The world feels too big and Shimizu is suddenly hyper aware that he is alone on this big giant planet. Seki couldn’t have walked that far away but the more Shimizu thinks about, the more he feels the distance growing and growing into miles. No matter how much he walked, the end would never be in sight.There is no direction. He feels almost abandoned.
In his head, Shimizu wonders why he blurted out a “but.” He isn’t sure what he was going to say. He can’t think of a single thing that would rationally follow that word. Seki is stubborn, he knows, so it’s not like anything he would have said would have made him change of his mind if he had already decided to leave Shimizu alone. Seki was also a bit apathetic. There wasn’t much he cared about, and there were even less things he would put his energy into. Apparently, this was one of those things.
“It’s okay,” he tells himself. It was his fault for believing Seki cared about him enough to make a change.
Neither of them feel okay.
//
After the fire, Seki is hailed as a hero by the people who saw him come out and by several news articles. Although on the streets, no one really recognizes him.
He sure as hell doesn’t feel like a hero. Not when he had saved Shimizu with the lingering feelings that maybe this would be enough to be forgiven. All he wanted was to protect Shimizu, but he still wonders if deep inside, he did it because he wanted Shimizu to live so he could hear Seki tell him that he’s changed. Then, maybe he could be forgiven.
He was so pathetic. Everything always led back to being forgiven but he never even tried. He was too prideful to ask for forgiveness and just expected Shimizu to help him sweep things under a rug. He had a chance to fix things right before the entire fire incident and he wasted it with a half-assed attempt at changing Shimizu’s mind. Even then, knowing that he was the one in the wrong, Seki expected Shimizu to come back to him quickly and willingly. It’s how he pictured it would go and as soon as it was falling apart, he fled the scene as fast as possible. He didn’t know how to deal with Shimizu making a conscious decision to leave him behind. Shimizu was right, Seki was selfish.
Seki doesn’t feel selfless. He doesn’t feel like a hero at all. He feels like crap.
//
“I’m your friend.” Seki tries to smile to cover up his initial shock at hearing Shimizu ask him who he is, at realizing that he has amnesia. He’s sure it comes out looking warped but he hopes that the street lamp’s light doesn’t illuminate it.
“Oh,” Shimizu says quietly. His hands clench and unclench around the ends of his button-up shirt. He doesn’t do the awkward feet shuffle. It makes him look more confident, more sure of himself. Which is so ironic, Seki almost snorts.
“He can’t remember a thing, but has never been more confident,” he says to himself so quiet, Shimizu doesn’t hear him.
“Excuse me, I’m not sure what you want me to do, but I have to get home soon. So. . .” Shimizu’s voice fades out and Seki thinks about how that sounded like a clear statement without any question mark attached.
“Yeah, I just wanted to see how you were. I was really wo—no, I mean, I really mi—crap. I just heard about the accident on the news so I came. We were. . .never really that close, but you know. I just wanted to calm down that funny feeling of knowing that someone you once knew could have been gone. Or is, in this case.” Seki stands from where he was crouching on the floor and makes a move to turn around.
“Wait, I don’t think I, um, quite understand what you mean,” Shimizu says as he rubs his right arm.
“It’s fine. Just forget it. See you some other time,” Seki says loudly as a way to permanently end the conversation. Ever since Shimizu asked him who he was, there was a growing feeling of dread spreading across his stomach and a big empty hole was opening up. As soon as he felt that his shadows couldn’t be told apart from all the other shadows around him, he sprinted home.
//
He doesn’t want to admit. He really doesn’t want to admit. But he is going to admit.
He is overwhelmed. He feels lost and betrayed and lonely. So, so, so lonely. He has never felt so distanced from everything around him. Before, it was Shimizu who was always the anchor he depended on to remind him that he would at least be remembered by someone that yes, he was here once and that yes, he had lived here and he had been alive and that he had mattered. That someone cared about him, someone that had been outside the automatic label of “family.”
But now, Shimizu has lost his memories. Now, no one would remember Seki. He would drift away and die alone and no one would ever know he was here once. No one would even care.
It had hurt him to say it aloud to Shimizu, that they weren’t that close. But it was true. They had been close, but not in the right way. Seki had depended on Shimizu for company and comfort and Shimizu had always been too weak and gentle to say anything against him. Only when Pegasus came did he stand on his own two, wobbly feet. Now, Shimizu was completely different, but Seki was not. They could not be friends. Seki didn’t know how to be friends with someone. There was nothing he could give to this new Shimizu that he needed. Before, he offered protection but now? There was nothing.
They aren’t friends anymore. They probably weren’t real friends to begin with.
Seki feels the walls of his room spread out farther, it’s like everything is moving away from him. He is alone now, in a way he has never been before. It was like he was the only one in the entire world. Just him and then everyone else. Only he could understand and trust himself. There is no comfort knowing that there is someone else in the world who would be willing to stand by his side—not anymore. He is sure there are black empty spaces opening up in his heart. His insides feel empty. Seki knows nothing he does now could possibly fill the emptiness. He doesn’t even know what he would do.
He is lonely and he misses Shimizu terribly.
He is miserable and he really wishes he could talk to Shimizu.
He feels absolutely horrible and he knows that only Shimizu can fix it.
But there is nothing that could possibly justify Seki calling him and asking him to come over. New Shimizu wouldn’t understand.
To be perfectly honest, Seki doesn’t want Shimizu to fix it, even in his imagination. He prefers this. It’ll be his way of making up for the pain he caused Shimizu.
Maybe when it’s time, Shimizu’s Poop God will bring them together again as fate. Deep inside, Seki hopes he does it soon.