Chapter Text
I've never been to a girl's birthday party before. I haven't even been to a birthday party since grade school. Back, then, parents just shoved invitations in everyone's backpacks at school. Everyone was invited. But in middle school, people got selective. And people chose to not invite me.
Now in high school, I didn't think birthday parties even happened anymore. But somehow, I'd received an invitation.
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I knock on the door, and await invitation inside. There is a shout of feminine voices inside. Girls, lots of them, just beyond the door.
God, couldn't Aira have a birthday party somewhere public like a park or something? My throat feels tight as I look down at my stiff peach button up shirt. The collar feels like its choking me all of a sudden, but my hands are occupied with holding the wrapped gift in my hands. I look down at it, questioning its contents for the thousandth time.
Do girls like hand creams? And if they do, would she find it weird that I had picked out a hand cream I liked the smell of? Was it too close to buying perfume? I turn the gift over in my hands, thinking perhaps I best just leave before anyone sees I had come at al-
The door opens.
I gasp in a breath of air as Aira stands on the other side of the door frame.
"Takakura!" She says. She is wearing a short, sequin party dress. A tiara on her head declares that she is the 'birthday girl', and she leans against the doorframe as she scans my small, pathetic self standing on her doormat.
"Miss Shiratori." My tight throat manages to squeak out. Her scanning, assessing gaze lands on the gift in my hands. She gasps, placing the very tips of her pretty, painted fingers on her bottom lip as she exclaims theatrically,
"Oh! Is that for me?"
My brain stalls. I'm not used to talking to girls, and I don't know how to act when they look at you that way. Like they want to beg you closer only to eat you alive. Aira has looked at me that way since I bumped into her last week at school.
She looks at me like she wants something from me, but I don't know what.
So, I hand her the wrapped box full of peach scented hand creams.
"Happy birthday." I say in a small voice as I extend the box towards her.
She takes it, her soft fingers grazing over mine in a way I can't imagine is unintentional. There is plenty of real estate on that box for her to grab it without having to touch me. But she does it anyway.
"Aw, you shouldn't have." She says, pulling the box into her chest as if it were a stuffed animal. It squeezes against the small crevice of her chest and it accentuates-
I avert my eyes. I cannot let her catch me staring at her this way. But I'm not used to talking to girls! It's easier with guys. I don't have to look them in the eyes, but down at their shirts, which are always printed in some snarky way. Band t-shirts, hawaiian print, heck, even those wolves howling at the moon ones. The chest is always where my eyes tend to drop when eye contact is too intimidating. This tactic does not work on girls.
So, I look beyond her, into the house, which to my continued horror, contains more girls.
I knew accepting this invitation was accepting to be in the presence of many girls, but only girls? My palms start to sweat. There must be another guy around here I can stand awkwardly next to to divert their attention.
Her soft hand grips my wrist, and she does it so gently. But her fingers might as well be shackles with the force she pulls me in with.
"Come on in." She says, stifling a giggle. Once through the door, she shuts the door behind me, releasing my captive wrist from her small, vicegrip fingers.
There's something odd about this girl, but I can't quite put a finger on it. Ever since bumping into her, I'd felt this strange feeling that I'm being played with. I feel like I'm in a school play, and I don't know my lines.
I make a stiff bow as I enter, muttering a thanks for entry and kneel down to untie the laces to my sneakers.
"Takakura's here!" Shiratori says in a sing song voice to the rest of the girls mulling about the living room. A collective cheer sounds, and I realize that my presence is anticipated.
That feeling of dread comes over me again. The feeling that I've been lured into a trap that is about to snap shut around me.
Just breathe, I tell myself. This panic is an illusion. You're just not used to all this social crap. It's fine. This is fine. This is normal. Just be cool, and don't screw this up.
Taking a deep, bracing breath, I step forward down the hall to face the room full of girls. I have to walk past the staircase, which creates a sort of hallway for me to walk through. I glance at the pictures on the wall. Aira in a tutu. Aira is wearing a tiara with a sash about her reading 'little miss…' but the rest is obscured. There is Aira with a pumpkin posed on her knees, Aira with a flower in her hair…
Aira, Aira, everywhere.
An only child, for sure.
I turn my head to the real Aira, now sitting on the carpet of her living room floor, her legs delicately folded beneath her like a mermaid on a rock. Of course, she can't sit criss cross in that dress-
I stop my thoughts.
Stop it, Ken. Stop it. Stop being weird around girls.
"You can sit here." She says, leaning forward to pat a spot across from her. The rest of the girls are sitting in a circle around her.
There is a bottle in the middle.
I huff a laugh. Is this some sort of game? I'm not familiar. I haven't been to a birthday party since grade school.
"What are we playing?" I ask, taking the offered seat.
"Spin the bottle." Says a dark haired girl next to me. She leans up, almost touching my shoulder, and I can't help but lean away.
Don't touch me, I beg. And for some reason, this makes her laugh. She bursts into giggles.
"Takakura, you're so shy." Aira comments.
I let a small laugh, only because as I look around myself and the four other girls here, everyone else is laughing.
Well, almost everyone.
My eyes stop at the girl sitting to the left of Aira. Short, brown hair. Unkempt and wild. She is leaning back against the side of the sofa, arms crossed, legs splayed. Which would have been unsightly had she been wearing a skirt like the other girls and not black leggings and jean shorts. Her arms are crossed across her chest. Her eyes are boring into mine as I finally make eye contact.
She is staring back, but not meanly. Curious, her head tilts a small way. Her brow raises, her eyes squint, with me in their gaze.
What are you looking at? They are asking.
Nothing, is my response, and drop my eyes back down to the bottle in the middle of the carpet.
"Let's play truth or dare!" Aira exclaims. The girls cheer. All except for the girl to Aira's left. The dark haired girl next to me leans over and says, "I hope I get to dare you." Then laughs
I laugh along with her, because I don't know what she's getting at. Then she leans over and spins the bottle with her hand.
It spins in a lazy circle and lands to point at a short haired girl to Aira's right.
"Poo!" Says the dark haired girl. "Okay, truth or dare?" She asks short haired girl.
"Truth." She replies.
"Who do you have a crush on right now?" Dark haired girl asks. A collective 'ooh' crescendos. Collective aside from wild haired girl who rolls her eyes.
She must be Aira's sister. Here by obligation. Maybe my assumption of Aira being an only child was wrong. Because why else would she be here? Why else would she be invited?
Wait, why had I been invited?
The nagging inkling that I had stepped into a trap grew as I watched more closely the strange girl. Her eyes connected with mine as if she knew I was staring at her, but she held my gaze in this fragile kind of way. As if she meant to deliver a secret message. I scrunch my brows, a silent question.
What is going on?
She arches her brow then looks quickly at Aira, then back at me. The scrunch in my brow deepens.
What could she mean?
I am so preoccupied with trying to communicate via telepathy with wild haired girl that I miss the short haired girl's answer on who she has a crush on.
"My turn!" She giggles, and leans forward to spin the bottle. It spins fast this time, around once, then twice and…
it lands on me.
My breath hitches, I look to wild girl for help. She stares, wide eyed at me, questioningly.
"Truth or dare, Takakura?" Says short haired girl. I look around in a panic.
"Dare… dare…" Whispers a girl, beginning a silent chant. I look back to my only friend, the only other outcast, and she is shaking her head, 'no', but I am a victim of peer pressure.
I barely hear myself as I whisper, "dare?"
The girls shriek with delight, my ears ring with it.
What have I done? Short haired girl is giggling as she declares, "I dare you to kiss the birthday girl!"
All eyes are on me and I look from one pair of them to another. A predatory gaze, like lions honing in on the hunt.
My sense of panic grows. Aira covers her cheeks as if she is embarrassed to be caught blushing.
"Aw, come on, guys!" She mewls. But there is no honest abashment in her tone.
I cannot possibly be expected to kiss Aira Shiratori. She can't possibly want me to. I'm a nerd. A geek. A nobody. This simply didn't feel right.
These girls were up to something, but I don't know what.
"Hee! Look at him blush!" The short girl snickers.
"He's going to pee his pants!" Another is saying behind their hand. Then an arm loops around mine. Dark haired girl is holding onto me. I try to slip my arm from her grasp, but she is holding on tight, and that's when I know…
This is a trap.
Short haired girl comes to loop her arm around my other arm, and I am utterly stuck between two girls as Aira begins to crawl her way over to me.
It's not false that I would love to be kissed. Many kids in my grade kiss in the hallways, and I have watched in envy that this sort of this could never happen to me. I've dreamt of being noticed, being seen, being loved.
But this? This wasn't right. I didn't want to kiss Miss Shiratori. Maybe, perhaps I had hoped she was interested. That I might leave here making a good impression. But it was clear in this moment I hadn't been invited as a guest.
I had been invited as a toy for these girls to play with.
"He doesn't have to if he doesn't want to." Aira says, but contradicts the statement by coming just inches from my face. Her eyes are piercing through mine. My body is hot with her closeness.
Don't touch me, I beg. Please don't.
These pretty, predatory girls are ridiculing me, and I was too stupid to see it before.
Of course she didn't actually want me to come to her party. What were we, friends? Nothing of the like.
She laughed, then. I had amused her. This was amusing to her.
I purse my lips, the lightest 'no' I've ever whispered leaving my lips. But contrary to my pride wanting nothing to do with her mouth, my body reacts. Blood rushes up to my face, down my abdomen and lower. I clench my teeth.
Oh, god. I am mortified.
Aira takes my chin between her pretty, gentle fingers, and holds my face. I can't turn away. I shut my eyes.
I go to a place where nothing can hurt me. The same one I go to when I am cornered and scared. I pretend I am not there. I am a balloon decoration. I am a kitchen chair. I am a discarded shoe. I am anything but a boy with a hard-on about to be kissed by this girl. I am a car passing by. A lightpost.
I am ready to bear it. I am ready for it to be over.
"He doesn't want to." A voice rings out. I open one eye to see Aira's hair being pulled. Her head jerked away.
"Momo!" Cries Aira. "How could you attack me like that?" She pouts.
"Just leave him alone." Cries Momo. "Can't you see you're freaking him out?"
This is not the right time to realize who this wild haired girl is.
Momo Ayase.
The school slut.
My hero.
The girls release my arms, and I quickly fix my glasses back onto my nose. They'd been in danger of slipping off from sweat.
I don't mutter a thanks. I am in a den of wolves that I have wandered in willingly, but I cannot side with Momo Ayase, because now, she is the target.
She's made herself the target.
And on my behalf? I take a chance to look at her, her eyes are patiently waiting for mine. I give a quick nod.
Her eyes leave mine to meet Aira's who is pouting and crossing her arms over her chest in a way that accentuates the volume of her breasts.
Momo matches Aira's stance and crosses her arms, as well, but the way she does it is markedly different. First she flicks her wrists before crossing her arms over. Her shoulders pull back, her neck straightens.
Momo Ayase is squaring up.
"Momo, you're no fun!" Complains Aira. But doesn't challenge Momo further.
Momo's eyes come back to mine and I stare at her in disbelief. Sure, I'd heard of Momo Ayase, but I'd never met her. Rumors called her loose. Called her a boyfriend thief and a manipulative liar.
That's what I'd heard, but I didn't imagine this.
I didn't imagine her.
Her brows arch sympathetically.
Are you okay?
I give another quick nod. No matter who Momo Ayase was at school, here, she was protecting me.
A gasp from one of the girls.
"I know!" Exclaims short haired girl. "Why don't we play seven minutes?"
I whimper in concern. "S-seven minutes?" I dare ask. And suddenly I'm being pushed.
"You don't know!"
"Oh, my God, you'll love this!"
I am being shoved and I am standing and moving. I'm tripping over my feet as three girls are herding me towards a door. The fourth opens it.
A closet?
"Wait, I-"
I am promptly shoved inside and the door is slammed shut.
There is giggling outside the door, and then suddenly there is nothing.
"Hello?" I call. My voice is muted among the jackets and sweaters hanging on the rack behind me.
It smells like old socks and leather and moth balls, but I'd rather be here than out there.
At least in here, I'm alone.
I knew from the moment that dork walked through the door what those bitches were up to. From his clueless, wide, puppy eyes to the pastel colored button down, it was clear what he was.
Aira's plaything.
I watch as he walks down the hallway, holding his arms close to his body, his shoulder tense-
He'd caught on, at least. So, why was he still walking in and sitting down with these bitches?
I stand a little straighter as he sits across from me, his big brown eyes made larger in those glasses of his, and I try to figure him out.
His eyes catch mine and I'm striken by his innocent gaze. His hopeless naivete.
I was there, once. In his shoes. I was ignorant to the ploy of these evil girls. I'd been played for the fool.
And still, by evidence of my presence here today, they still enjoy playing with me.
It's not so bad being the scapegoat of the friend group, so long as you're aware where you stand. So long as you know your place and understand that the people around care nothing for you at all.
I know these girls don't give a shit about me. I know I'm only here so they can weave more rumors and test their cruelty on someone.
But hey, there's cake. And free pizza.
Yet according to this guy's innocent gaze, I don't think dorkonaut knows his place just yet, or what role he's meant to play at this party.
I'm not entirely sure, either, but I think I'm about to find out.
He drops his gaze, and a new fear rises in me.
I think he recognizes me. Heat build in my core as shame swells in me.
Damn. I promised myself I wouldn't let these rumors get to me. Yet, here I am, having feelings about it.
"Truth or dare!" Tsubame asks Anzu.
Ah, a kissing game. I see.
My eyes fall back to the dork with the glasses, he is kneeling politely and stiffly. Taking up as little room as possible. The perfect victim. The pieces are starting to come together, now.
I try to catch his eyes again to warn him in any way I can. I give a furtive glance to Aira, then back to him.
She's going to try to kiss you. I try to tell him. Don't fall for her tricks.
He is either too terrified or perhaps just not telepathic, and just stares blankly back.
"My turn!" Giggles Anzu, and she spins the bottle again.
I watch it spin, contemplating whether I should influence it's velocity. Whether I should control the situation at hand. But I let fate decide, and it falls on him.
Interested, I watch his reaction.
"Truth or dare?" She asks.
Surely, he's not stupid enough to pick dare. Surely not…
Yet Tsubame is chanting that he should and I am shaking my head.
Don't do it. I warn him.
"Dare?" He says.
Oh, I get it, now. It's not that he isn't telepathic. He's just stupid.
Or, perhaps he's hoping to be kissed. Perhaps he wants to be dared.
A strange, contradictory feeling overcomes me. Why am I a bit upset about this? Just because we'd shared some furtive glances, doesn't mean we are in cahoots or anything.
And yet, I feel we are in an alliance, somehow. Were we not both victims of the same situation?
"I dare you to kiss the birthday girl!" Anzu cries. And he is shrinking away. Tsubame reaches out to hold him down. Anzu does the same. Aira begins to crawl over to him.
I can hear his quiet protestation. Too quiet to actually cause them to stop.
He really was a perfect victim. Those girls were going to eat him alive.
I am on my knees before I can think, and I grab Aira by the hair- childish, I know- to pull her aside.
"Ow! Momo!" She complains. But I know she's just being dramatic. This demon doesn't feel pain. "How could you attack me like that?"
"He doesn't want to." I state flatly. I look over at him, trying to silently ascertain that I did right. He nods quickly at me.
So, we really are in cahoots.
And my belief in telepathy strengthens.
But he's not safe for long.
"Let's play seven minutes!" Anzu suggests.
"S-seven minutes?" He asks dumbly. Oh, God. He really was stupid. Why do I always like the dumb ones? Was this his first day as a teenager or something?
They pounce on him, and he is slipping out of their grip with expert avoidance skill. But unfortunately, he is being herded down the hall towards the coat closet by the front door, and Tsubame graciously opens the door to push him inside.
Slam.
I flinch as I hear the finality of the sound. My heart swells with pity for this pathetic boy.
Who is now stuck in the closet.
My pity turns to anger for the pink haired girl who is taking her previous seat next to me.
It's cool for her to be a bitch to me. It's cool for her to pick on me. I can take it. But this guy? He's totally helpless. He's innocent. And she's about to embarrass the absolute shit out of him.
"Time to spin the bottle to see who is going to break him in!" Aira cackles. Her good girl act has dropped. The boy is not here to perform for. Among friends, she is the devil.
She sends the bottle wildly turning with a flick of her wrist and it turns and turns then slows. The trajectory is predictable.
The birthday girl is about to get her wish.
Not if I can help it. I brace the chi in my core and see the small aura of the inanimate object of the bottle, and with some concentration, tap it just a ways.
The movement seems artificial; manipulated. But none of the girls here actually know I can do these things, and assuming I had anything to do with the weird phenemenon of the bottle's strange change in direction would go against reason and gravity.
Unfortunately, this means the bottle is now pointing to me.
Whoops.
Aira groans like a petulant child who wants a lollipop at the check out line of the grocery store.
"No!" She whines.
"I guess I gotta go break him in, now." I say casually and stand to make my way to the closet. And yet, my body is not so casual about this. A flash of excitement. A sinking nervousness.
Why am I getting all worked up about some nerd boy who can't find his way around a birthday party? It's probably just my stupid bleeding heart. He's so helpless. Like a baby bird.
"Momo! You did that on purpose!" She complains. I turn back around to give her the smallest hint of a knowing smile. I think Aira thinks I'm some kind of paranormal freak. She's tried to exorcise me before.
"Whatever could you mean?" I answer back with all the innocence I can muster.
Her face twists into an ugly scowl.
There, that's much more like her.
"Seven minutes…" She says between clenched teeth.
It's strange how sometimes you can see people's thoughts pass over them like a wave on the ocean. In the small moment my eyes still see her as I turn back around, I see such a wave cross over her.
She's just got some kind of idea. Something probably cruel and manipulative, but it wouldn't be Aira if it wasn't.
I barely have time to think about what Aira's new idea might be before I knock on the closet door.
Automatic, like an answering machine, or a guy trying to announce he is currently in the bathroom stall, he pipes up, "yes?"
"Can I come in?" I ask. The door knob twists from the inside. A small sliver of the door opens and his big, brown eyes are peeking through the space.
"M-Miss Ayase?" He mutters.
Well, shit. He does recognize me.
"The girls are playing a game." I whisper through the crack. He nods a look of sad resignation.
"I can see that, now." He mutters.
"Let me in. I'm supposed to take you to heaven in seven minutes, and that's a very short deadline."
I've given away the nature of the game. If he really was shy, he would have slammed the door and refused my entry. Perhaps this is what Aira wants. In fact, it would probably be smart for him to slam the door and refuse to leave the closet until his mom comes by to pick him up.
It was a solid avoidance tactic.
But for some ungodly reason, he opens the door wider, and lets me in.