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“I am transfiguring reality — what is it that’s escaping me?
Why don’t I reach out my hand and take it?
It’s because I only dreamed of the world but never saw it.
Água Viva, Clarice Lispector.
🪼
On the other side of the room, hidden at the very far right corner, a girl lets her eyes get lost on a cloud that passed by. It felt serene, combined with the warm golden cast of the last hope of summer, if it wasn’t for the hand that rested on top of the table, the one that wasn’t supporting her heavy thoughts. Trimmed to perfection and painted with delicacy, her fingers begged to be held, to be cared for. They were waiting, an open invitation to be laced on anything but her throat; to be the hands of someone who’s loved.
For every weave of her sweater, Mika Egashira carefully hides parts of herself that even she didn't know before.
To not frighten her, he carefully let his knuckles hum by the door, inviting himself in. Even so, he could see her jump, body finally meeting soul as both are called back to reality. She looked, curious. He smiled, toothless.
“What are you still doing here?” Sousuke Shima asked. “Never knew that the English conversation group would force people to stay at school.”
Mika hides her hands, one arm on top of the other. “Yuzu had to stay back and asked if I could meet her.” He nodded, pleased with the answer. “What are you doing here?”
“Being the vice president of the theater club is way more complicated than it sounds,” he replied, defeated. “Can I stay with you for a bit?”
She answered with her eyes, letting it grow big. Sousuke found it funny, accepting this gesture as a “yes”, because Mika Egashira never answers, only asks. He dropped his bag on the floor and his body on the chair right in front of her, back rested at the window sill, against the sun. She found it odd, he found it funny.
“Why are you staying back if you can go home now?” Something in her voice sounded skittish, hidden between the vowels.
“I just feel like we never talk, don’t you think so?” As much as she wanted to find malice in his words, he sounded sincere, fragile. “Maybe this could be our chance.”
Mika felt her cheeks burn, but the icy type of way. Nothing that made her heart flustered, no. Something that she always felt when someone tried to get closer. “Why me, anyways?”
For someone who wanted to talk, Sousuke barely opened his mouth, forcing her to do the talking. He stayed the whole time looking at the ceiling, nape being showered by the orange glow, on his own little world, a trivial question escaping here and there. “Have you started to study for the upcoming exam?” “What do you think about our new classmates?” “Is the English Conversation club fun?”
However, what would someone like Shima Sousuke, the soft spoken prince, with eyes that followed only a shining star, would ever want to know more about the girl who paints her nails just to hide them later on? What was so interessanting on her that made him stay back, to worry, to care?
“Shima” , she wanted to call him and ask. “What do I have to offer, anyways? When there’s thousands of chances to take, why would you toss them away to waste time with me?” Yet she stayed quiet, studying how his hair went from a strawy color to such a strong yellow that hurts the eyes. “How does it feel to have everything you ever wanted?”
“Egashira-san,” he called her, well aware that Mika’s thoughts were anywhere but next to them. “Do you think you’re finally yourself now?”
His eyes, rested and delicate, looked right at her, at her core. Sousuke had a small grin forming on the other side of his face, the one that the sun loved to kiss. In response, Mika cleaned her throat and excused herself by looking outside, once again. “I don’t know what you mean by that.”
That didn’t cause a single reaction from him, who stayed in the same position as before. “You changed a lot, has someone ever told you that?” No answer. “For starters, you don’t fake a smile anymore.” Nothing, only his soft laugh. “And you feel comfortable to be near us now, don’t you?”
It all felt too surreal, her blood boiling with the audacity of Mister-Everyone-Loves-Me to sit in front of her and act like he could study her anyway he wanted. Was it funny? Was it enjoyable? Did that make him laugh before falling asleep at night? “What would you know, Shima-kun?”
The world fell into a deep silence. Outside, only the wind sang. Inside, Sousuke looked completely deprived of color — a corpse, dead way before he could live. Yet, his grin didn’t leave them alone.
Mika wanted to take it back, to be apologetic. To blame her reaction on anything at all, be it exams, the club or, hell, even her menstrual cycle. She wanted to maybe start to laugh and pretend it was all an act, that he inspired her to maybe try for the theater club as well. But that smile, that poisonous little smile, was telling her to go on, to twist the knife a little more, to reach the white of his bones. To admit that she wasn’t feeling sorry at all .
And before any feelings could finally settle between their vertebrae, before his eyes got glossy, before her new nauseating feeling had gone away, a breath of fresh air invited the classroom, knocking both of them down. Sousuke, in one clean movement, directed his gaze to the door, head already back to its normal position.
Unable to not catch anyone’s attention, Yuzuki took all the spotlight to herself. Standing there, she looked ethereal.
Her chest moved in a frantic way, sweat covering the little hairs that surrounded her face. “I’m so, so sorry Mika-chan.” Yuzu huffed. “The meeting took way longer than any of us expected.”
“That sounds like trouble, Murashige-san.” Said Sousuke.
“It’s fine, really.” Yuzu answered, much closer than before. “I just feel bad that I made Mika wait so much for me.”
Mika shook her head, a way to sooth her friend’s worries. “I didn’t wait long,” she said. “And Shima-kun made me company.”
They exchanged a silent glance and she pleaded mercy, in a secret conversation. “Yeah, we were talking about our new classroom and some people there,” Sousuke lied. “Egashira-san seems to know some of them already.”
He wasn’t entirely wrong, since yes, she did know some people from her class, be it from elementary school or a friend of a friend situation. But the shiver that was tickling her nape was the fact that Sousuke Shima knew about this, the same boy who had his head on the clouds and a wall of girls surrounding him.
“Oh, that’s so great!” Yuzuki started to recompose herself, hair band between her teeth so she could work on her ponytail. “It’s still very hard for me, you know? I still don’t feel like they really want to be my friends.”
No matter how hard she tried to ignore it, judgmental eyes will never abdicate for her blood. They ate her alive, dismantling her bones until dust, silencing her voice that tried and tried to defend for herself. Yuzuki was surrounded by predators, like it or not.
She feels alone, much more than she ever was. That’s because this new solitude hurts differently, burns a little colder. When you finally experience the chance of being loved and loved back, the emptiness of loneliness echoes louder. Deep inside Yuzu’s heart, she remembers that once she had someone to call to, but now all she can find is a white room. There’s a multitude of people around her, yet all she can hear is the void.
“I know how you feel”, Sousuke said. “It’s a little intimidating. It would be way better if we never had to change classes in the first place.”
There was a deep hidden expression around the corner of his suave eyebrows. For the ones who never looked twice, Sousuke looked like he ever did, droopy eyes and all. However, when you have only yourself to look at, you start to notice similarities between you and the ones who tell the same lies. And for Yuzu, there was nothing more comforting than knowing that the boy in front of her had the same cards inside his sleeves.
A small grin managed to escape, shoulders limp with relief. “At least you two are in the same class, right?” Yuzu looked at Mika, who avoided her eyes. “It’s good to see a familiar face.”
“As if I could approach Shima-kun in any ways”, a tiny bit of resentment enveloped Mika’s words. “He’s always surrounded.” She still avoided their eyes. Maybe it was shyness, maybe it was something their eyes couldn't read.
Yuzuki felt trapped, lost in thousands of possible answers she could give to accommodate her friend. “I can understand you, Mika-chan. Those girls are scary.”
“I think I'd rather you talking to me than all of those people, Egashira-san.” Sousuke hummed, light as a bird
“ Me? ” Mika scoffed. “Yeah, right. I could never compete with your fans.”
The seconds inside the classroom felt sticky around Yuzuki’s fingers. Not because of the words being exchanged, but thanks to the cold realization that she could never understand or sympathize with Mika's pain. What she had previously imagined to be something similar to what she had faced in the past was, in fact, something much deeper and more bitter, the trauma of a person who not only was not heard, but who had to change her entire self in order to speak. The one sitting on the chair right now, in front of her, was the ghost of someone she never knew.
On her other side, waves crashed: Sousuke, who never had anyone sink deeper than possible to breathe, just reflected the sunset, trying to catch Mika’s attention. “I think we are way more similar than you ever imagined.” He raised his eyes, catching Yuzu’s. “Murashige-san too.”
That finally made Mika turn her head, annoyance all over the lines of her mouth. “And how similar could we be, Shima-kun?” She frowned.
Yuzuki could only stay in silence, trying in vain to catch what was Sousuke’s plan or even how she could save Mika from the world. At the same time she let out the sigh that was corrupting her guts, Sousuke spoke. “Our past kind of sucked, didn’t it?”
Mika looked confused. “That’s it?” She looked at Yuzuki, who chose not to respond. “And how will I know if you’re not lying? We don’t know anything about you, do we?”
“I think what Shima-kun is really trying to say is that we finally found a safe space.” The blonde girl spoke softly, careful with each syllable. “That we don’t have to pretend anymore.”
“Speak for yourself.” Mika sounded regretful the moment her last word escaped her mouth.
Yuzu wanted to raise her voice, to shake her friend back to reality. Her fingers, itching to grab Mika’s sweater, desperately cling to the straps of her bag. “I’m right in front of you, Mika-chan.” It’s what she would say. “I’m right in front of you and yet you never once understood why I never talked about love with you before.” Because her type of love had glasses and braids as dark as dawn, shaped as a sin.
With her arms crossed, Mika diverted the attention, barely realizing how hard she shoved Yuzuki off. “Mitsumi is the only one who’s able to do that.”
“Oh,” the boy sounded distant. “I don’t think I agree with you on that.”
Yuzuki could swear that, for a moment, Sousuke wasn’t there anymore. The one who bravely chewed those words was a little boy with a big plea behind his eyes, who’s innocence was stolen. Lost, frightened, broken: all the words she could describe what she was one day. And that was enough for her to start questioning if this was ever about Mitsumi in the first place.
“Shima-kun,” Mika called, bringing him back. “Can you please say something that makes sense?”
He laughed, which caught both of the girls by the neck. “Maybe all I’m trying to say is that I like how you don’t fake yourself around us anymore.” Sousuke looked up, silently asking for Yuzuki. “And that we had the chance to meet the real Egashira-san as well.”
This time, it took more than the straps to keep her in place. “And you, Shima-kun?” Yuzuki challenged. “When will we meet you? ”
Mika got up, in a swift motion, bag already resting at her shoulder. “I can’t do this anymore,” she said, hiding her face with her hair, snaking her arms with Yuzu’s. “Sorry, Shima-kun, we need to go.”
Even with the warmth of relief covering her body, Yuzuki felt empty. Her legs moved forward, following her friend’s step, but she couldn't tear her gaze off the lonely boy they were leaving behind. He smiled and waved, small and fragile, with a dark melancholy lining his chin. A living past.
She wishes she could say goodbye. Be it for the boy who saw her leave or for the thread of a sweater that she saw Mika leaving behind.