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On his 4th birthday, Shu was brimming with excitement. He had been waiting since forever for this day to finally arrive.
All four candles on his cake had successfully been blown out (he did better than last year!). His family applauded him while cheerfully wishing him a Happy Birthday.
And then, the long awaited moment finally came. His eyes widened and his hands shook in anticipation when he was given the present – quite a large box wrapped in bright red paper and a decorative golden ribbon. Without hesitation, he tore apart the paper, expectantly.
However, all joy faded away immediately as he saw what was inside.
Or rather, what wasn’t.
Ever since his sister’s birthday took place months prior, he had asked for a gift just like hers: a pretty doll with long silky hair and a frilly dress. He was certain he would be getting his own today, just like she had.
But he was wrong.
He didn't understand.
When Shu was 6, he spent most of his afternoons scrubbing dirt off his dolls’ clothes. He did so gently, afraid that the frayed edges would finally give in and tear apart. Always wishing he knew how to fix them.
The tiny dress he had just finished cleaning was hanging on the line, carefully held by a pair of clothespins. Then, he picked another one from the drawer – light blue with decorative lace, one of his favorites.
He put it on his doll with utmost care, his practised fingers guiding her clumsily taped arm through the sleeve.
He admired her with a soft gaze. She was so pretty.
He envied her.
Holding his precious toy tightly against his chest, as if afraid someone would snatch her from him again, he creaked the door open slowly and peeked inside. The room was empty. Heartbeat so fast he could hear his pulse in his ears, he ventured inside.
When he showed himself in front of his parents, they looked horrified. The clothes he put on were admittedly a bit oversized, but pretty. No doubt about it. He remembered his parents had praised his sister when she used to wear that dress.
But he didn’t get praised.
He could hear his mother’s cutting voice telling him boys weren’t supposed to do that. He lowered his head as she continued to speak, but her words were muffled by the memories of other boys his age calling him gross and a freak. His hands started trembling. His scraped knees and the bruises on his legs and arms he didn’t remember getting were burning.
His head felt light. His mind foggy. His sight blurry due to the tears flooding his eyes.
And then he heard it. The same gentle voice that comforted him when he felt lonely. His only friend.
“You look cute, Shu-kun. It’s okay, I’m here”.
Next thing he remembered was curling on his bed, eyes red and swollen and a headache piercing through his skull. The dress lay discarded on the floor.
He was told to take it off. He was never told why.
He didn't understand.
When Shu was 12, he stood frozen in front of the mirror. He couldn’t bear to look at his reflection.
He looked terrible .
After countless attempts at trying to fix it, the dress still did not fit him.
No. The dress was perfect. One of his best creations, in fact. The dress was not at fault.
It was his body that did not fit the dress.
And it would never fit any dress anymore.
His eyes were fixed nowhere on the white ceiling as he lay on the bed. Everything felt numb. Distant. Unreal.
He was a fool. He thought–no, he wanted to believe that, maybe, if he wished hard enough, the day he dreaded with all his being would never come. That his body would never change and he would always look as beautiful as his dolls did. Forever. For eternity.
But that lie wasn’t meant to last.
He cried himself to sleep that night. Why did this have to happen?
He didn't understand.
When Shu was 14, he got suspended for three days.
Some classmate – or rather, an uneducated philistine, in his opinion – dared question him during a group project. Much had he already done by agreeing to work with others. He pitied those poor souls, after all, and thought they could benefit from working under a genius like him, hopefully learning a thing or two.
However, instead of appreciating the gesture, that uncultured swine had the audacity to criticize his leadership. That brainless worm most likely–surely–did it out of envy, in an attempt to discredit him in front of the others. That didn’t excuse such a major offense, though. And so, Shu inevitably lashed out at him. That ungrateful barbarian needed to know his place.
And now, he was standing in the principal’s office, being told he would be facing a suspension for his behavior.
He didn’t regret any word he said, though. He was only guilty of speaking the truth. And if those were the consequences, so be it.
Not that he was surprised by the outcome. He already knew beforehand that no one would comprehend him. Not his classmates, who had spent all his formative years bullying him. Not the teachers, who turned a blind eye whenever it was convenient for them. Not his parents, who gave up on him long ago.
They didn’t understand.
When Shu was 19, he felt the crisp sea breeze against his warm cheeks and the grainy texture of sand against his feet. The world around him was tinted in the orange and red hues of the sunset. He carried Mademoiselle carefully in one arm, her permanent, soothing smile adorning her eternally beautiful porcelain face.
As they walked alongside each other, Mika happily hummed a melody far too familiar. Shu recognized it as the song they were currently working on together. As partners. As equals.
The fingers of his free hand casually brushed against Mika’s, subtly lingering for a second too long to be accidental.
And then, their eyes locked.
Shu’s breath caught in his throat; his heart pounding against his chest, so hard he feared Mika could hear it too.
Warmth was starting to creep up his cheeks when Mika smiled at him. Gently, radiating pure, genuine affection. Eyes filled with love and undying devotion.
Beautiful .
More beautiful than any work of art Shu had ever witnessed.
He bit his lower lip, a futile attempt to hide the smile that threatened to disclose the whirlwind of emotions inside.
What Mika saw in him was beyond Shu. He used to wonder at first, but he eventually stopped–just accepted it.
Because Shu didn't understand Mika. Not really. And Mika didn't understand him either.
But they didn't need to.