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“Are you never going to talk to me?”
He says it with such conviction that I just have to humor him. In my own way. “About what, Satoru? I’m talking to you now. You’ll never get anywhere if you aren’t specific,” I’m dodging the question.
“I don’t know what, and you know why? You won’t tell me.”
He’s right. I won’t tell him. “I’m not obligated to tell you anything.” My back is to him. I know that if I face him, he’ll see right through me down to the bone.
“That’s what someone with something wrong would say.”
And he’s right. Everything is wrong. I’ve grown hateful and spiteful, angry and cruel in the year that’s passed. I’ve become this way because of his absence, whether he or I like it or not. I keep my back steady to him. I don’t let him see the pained expression my face bears.
I love him.
It is for that reason that I don’t want him to know that he hurts me so. He isn’t even trying to, and any normal person wouldn’t be affected like I am. I wish I could be that normal person. Oh how simple life would be. An unrealistic life, one in which I am free of the shackles of obsession and the gripping hands of possession. One where I don’t fear impending death every corner I turn. I’d allow myself to become a monkey if it meant being peaceful and happy.
Once I couldn’t have him anymore, not to myself, and not as often as I wanted him, something in me went down, a torpedo. I’ve always been greedy. Once he stopped letting me take, I stopped functioning. Broke down like a steam engine. Stationary. Just one big paperweight.
“That still doesn’t mean I have to say anything, now does it? Go home, Satoru. You and I both know you're a busy man now. Worry about your mission tomorrow.”
I want him to worry about me. Deep in my heart, his worry strikes a gong, one that brings tears to my eyes. As of late, I’ve often caught myself thinking he could care less about me. Seeing it proved wrong just makes me yearn to turn around, and run into his arms. But I know I can’t do that anymore. Times have changed. He’s untouchable. It goes without saying our collision would be nothing short of dirtied oil making contact with clear water. He’s untouchable figuratively, and literally. Hell only knows if he would still turn off his infinity for me. And the idea of testing that theory makes me want to scream, the possibility of being rejected far too much. I should throw it aside.
I have let myself become an incomparable sin, and he shines on as the holiness of angels, of the Lord Himself. A black hole and a flashbang. Both painful, both strong, but one infinitely more deadly. One much more unforgiving.
“You aren’t exactly very convincing, you know, Suguru?”
He is the bane of my existence, his fiery passion risking lighting my own heart aflame, yet his saddened tone rains on that parade. “I’m plenty convincing when you let me be. You’re just stubborn and deciding for yourself what I think. What I feel.” I almost turn to face him. I realize, and stop myself, just in time. His voice feels closer now, he’s stepped closer to me. Satoru is closer to me. In my head I’d forgotten how I yearn for him, but my heart, it could never forget. Not in ten years, a hundred, a thousand or a million years.
With our newfound closeness, I can’t afford to look him in the eyes. Even through his idiotic circle-lensed sunglasses, he’d know for sure. Everything. And looking at him would make me spill my guts. He’s always known me better than I know myself. It’s cruel, to feel discarded by the one person who truly understands you. And now here he is, regretting casting me aside for the sake of his power. The only thing out of his control in a world that’s wrapped around his finger. Do I believe he deserves his missing puzzle piece? I’m unsure myself.
“I’m just…” I hear him take a breath, “I’m just trying to stop whatever is hurting you.”
“I’m sorry? Satoru, I can deal with myself.” I can hear his feet shuffle behind me. Maybe he can tell he struck a nerve. “I don’t care how strong you are now, you can’t just barge into problems that aren’t yours.” But it is his problem. And it’s my fault for not telling him. I’m willing to shoulder the blame; he’s busy. He’s busy without me, busy doing other things, he doesn’t need to worry about appeasing my childish whims.
He’s silent for too long. Satoru always has a counter. His silence is unsettling. Say something, say something, say something god damn you. I can feel his cursed energy behind my back, he hasn’t moved. A spike of guilt spears my heart for a moment. Why am I treating him this way?
Because he’s busy, and independent. That’s why. I’m so dependent upon him that it shakes me to my core. I no longer want to shackle him down, as if his own personal ball and chain, if he no longer has my weight tying him down maybe we can both reach our full potentials. He’s already been improving more than ever spending all his time away. I want to foster his growth, even though losing him is losing a part of myself. I can’t help but feel like he doesn’t feel the same.
He’s still silent. How long has it been? Seconds, minutes, an hour? Why hasn’t he moved?
“You should go, Satoru.”
And I hear him take a deep breath. I could almost misconstrue it as a sniffle, had he cried? His steps shuffle off. Does he mumble something? I’ve never known him to be so indirect. I need to get going. I wipe my own eyes, my eyeliner smudges on my arm.