Chapter Text
Lately, I don't know why I'm like this, scrolling through playlists I won't listen to.
"Another love song with the standard storyline... What was it about? Nothing stands out...."
Why is it so boring? Whatever I do, I'm annoyed. Almost everything I like, all my enjoyment has evaporated in thin air. 24-hour true crime podcasts. Laughing at T-shirts with spelling mistakes. Driving to see the spring scenery of Ayato's third year of high school.
I've been told that I'm adaptable. Whether I'm alone or with friends, it's not awkward. Instead of planning what to do on a trip, I just pick up my things and go.
Preparing for the long-term isn't my personality. Where will I be five years, ten years in the future? I don't want to think about it. That might trigger a time travel storyline. Transmigration. Age regression. Astral projection. Amnesia. Past and future selves switching places. Death by merging memories with an alternate self.
To prevent social death, I have to pay attention to relationships. Behavior, body language, speech patterns, and trivial habits. It's especially important for identifying women. Even my parents are blurry on the days without BL. I flip through family photos like the weather channel.
Blank, blank, blank.
I can see the two moles on my dad's face. My mom is covering him with her baseball jacket, hair blowing in her half-open mouth. Off to the side, Ayato is inspecting the food hygiene of our picnic basket, even though he packed it. There are no cherry blossoms on the trees, only green leaves. I'm the photographer, one hand on my single-lens reflex camera, one hand on Miiko's leash. Just my arm is shown in the picture.
Is it fucked up that I feel relieved when their faces are fuzzy?
Today will be a flag-free day.
That... that... that's my first thought when I fold my toast in half. When my mom is in front of me, I forget the fine details. Not my dad, though. I can find him in the mirror.
It didn't bother me before, because I'm a resident of a BL manga. Speech bubbles are see-through like ghosts. If they block my vision, I take pictures with my phone. The brain will realize that these special effects are fictional, then turn on the self-recovery mechanism. Have I experienced being a stranger in my own skin? Not really. I've never felt isolated for my lack of investment in romance. It's true that I'm interested, but I have no time to date.
Besides, I live at my parents' house, so privacy is a problem. Toujou has a younger sister, Yanagi has an older sister, Misato has many younger sisters and brothers, and Hatano has an older brother. Ayato doesn't go to his friends' homes because they have siblings. What am I?
I'm a static character, so my mentality is stable.
With high alcohol tolerance, I'll be able to drink comfortably at company parties when I'm older. One of those office workers clocking overtime on Christmas.
My height is around 177 cm. Ryouta and Akihito, 174 cm. Touma, 181 cm. Takimoto, 188 cm. Youji, 175 cm. Masaya, 180 cm. Yamazaki, 166 cm. Kakei, 176 cm. I remember this information, but not important things on exams.
"Kouji went there to argue, but ended up apologizing with Tachi. He wasn't angry at his accusations. If that's not a dangerous person, I don't know what is."
"Are you sure he's not the one who stole his ex-girlfriend?"
"I guess Kouji is stupid enough to bother a blameless guy for an entire week. Tachi isn't much better. Do this, do that, don't misunderstand Kouji. If you properly talk to him, blah blah blah, I don't have patience for his preaching."
"No, seriously, his smile was scary when Tachi was scolding Kouji. I can't go to the bathroom at night."
"I'll go with you. If you're too afraid to aim, you have me."
"Gross."
"I'll go anywhere with you."
What's the point of anger, arguing with the fourth wall? It doesn't break the flag. These old rumors don't matter anymore. Why am I repeating what I overheard? I only cheat on Miiko at cat cafés. My reputation is clean. I had managed the collateral damage.
Sometimes, I feel that I have no life, outside of BL and lovers' quarrels.
Utsumi said that I seemed depressed. Isn't that funny? It's funny. I still taste the sting of Sprite from that soda fountain. Lemon-lime. Nine-to-one ratio. Don't go to a goukon if you got a boyfriend.
When I'm hiding in a back alley, all I can think about is dying, kneeling, or faking my death.
There's no way I can drink in this state. Sober enough for some self-awareness. Shit, I'm a mess. Skipping classes in the courtyard near the shop clerk.
Slowly, steadily, I start walking towards the closest convenience store.
Mob mentality.
There are moments when you get along with your friend's friend, only to learn that he thought the mutual stranger was your friend. Who was that? Neither you know his name.
A delinquent and an honor roll student are going on a date in school uniforms, stalked by their disciplinary committee. A cult leader is flaunting his cursed flyers like a bird's courting ritual. An old couple feeding squirrels sunflower seeds. A collapsed Katou around the corner. A crying child. I cross to the other side of the street. When was the last time I cried? Before my younger brother was born?
Katou is the homeless man who lives in the house that Mr. Christmas Cake had bought for his ex-girlfriend Miku. They buy bread at the bakery. I befriended the police officer that Ayato had called for Katou. A middle-aged mob, through and through.
In BL manga, police officers arrive later than handsome men. Their statistics on burnout might be higher than other careers. Having to see civilians save themselves, again and again, is harsh on a hero complex. How many times will it happen? When will luck run out? The professionals are praised for other people's accomplishments.
How can they feel at ease with a happy ending? How can I? I hope that the universe isn't sentient. Indifference is more kind than kindness. I don't want to be loved by an author, an audience, anybody who doesn't belong in this absurd world.
The more enthusiastic, the more energetic they are, the more eyes on my non-existent story. Even now, there are eyes. Eyes everywhere. Eyes are windows to the soul, and they are windowless.
If I were to pluck an eyelash from an eyeless person, would it disappear?
Lately, I don't know why I'm like this.
Walking past the convenience store, I think about things that can't be bought. Where do normal people buy illegal drugs? Is there a pill for falling in love with myself? If it's me, I'll wish him happiness.
What's the point of denial, pretending I can't read the writing on the wall? I'm lonely. I miss someone I've never met. Touch-starved. Sleep-deprived. It can't be solved with love. I want to take care of him, tell him he's worked hard. Hold a trembling hand, help him by saying what I need to hear.
The BL world has won. Whatever it is, I'm willing. Whoever it is, I'm willing. I want to lose. With you.
Wow, that was dangerous. I went to the other side and survived in one piece. Now that I'm overcome my weakness, let's go eat shrimp paella, garlic jalapeno bread, and gazpacho soup. It pairs well with calamari tempura. The socarrat crust on the bottom of paella is the best.
"Hmm? Why are you taking notes on something like this? I don't think that type of literature that would appear on a test, Minamoto-kun."
"You have a bad habit of stealing other people's belongings. My notebook for your sketchbook."
"How did you do that?! Teach me! Tell me all about you!"
"There's nothing to tell!!!"
The beauty of English is that 'spring' and 'fall' are both seasons and actions.
I pass by the budding couple with a spring in my step.