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“Jealousy” is not an emotion that I've been trained to accept. Prohibited and unnecessary. Poison to one's body and soul. Nothing but a mere corruption a good, respectable ninja soon learns to overcome.
Yet here I am, letting my emotions make a mess out of me while my mind spirals into the deepest of hells. And all because of a simple, tiny little bee.
I shouldn't be this mad at a fellow detective. We're a team and, truthfully, he has done nothing to deserve being at the eye of the storm I've become.
Such is the problem about feelings: they make you unreasonable and cruel.
He's at the other side of the door. At the other room. Right at the other side of the world, accompanied by Cream, Vanilla and Vector. At least that's where I left them. There at Vanilla’s living room, while I remain outside in a self imposed isolation.
It's for the better. I am not needed there. I barely ever am.
I'm not one to require attention. Not one to ever request it and actively seek it. That's the ninja's way: always stay on the shadows, even to the eyes of your own allies. An ability coming to the point of an habit: when the world becomes too loud to handle, I'll silently assume my place outside of it and step away, becoming nothing but a mere observant.
Outside of high danger missions, where my impecable fighting abilities shine and I'm forced to occupy the focus, the most I get of a reaction is a conversation or a side glance.
Not whenever they're doing with Charmy right now. This ridiculous, pathetic display of overprotection, treating him as if he was some defenseless child. And a child he is, but nowhere near as fragile as they're pretending it to be. I'm left here wondering if Vanilla’s attempts of “comfort” are even doing any good, or if Charmy's as uncomfortable and humiliated by it as I'm imagining.
Because Charmy's fine. I'm sure he's completely fine and this was just a stupid joke taken too far. But I suppose that these are the consequences of my actions, and Vector had warned me of this multiple times before.
It was a terrible habit, I know. These comments. These… “jokes” waltzing over the edge of the building with the temptation of just jumping to death.
I'm doing it again, even in my own internal dialogue.
I recall the first time it happened. Back to our first mission together, not formerly as a team. When we were all together with Knuckles and Mighty against Metal Sonic Kai. “We still have the chance to kill ourselves before he does it” I said. A joke, of course. A ninja wouldn't give up on a mission that easily. One of those comments I usually keep to myself. I don't know what possessed me to say it out loud but I did.
At the moment nobody reacted but Vector. I suppose he was the only one to listen, considering we were in the middle of battling a giant metallic dragon. It wasn't much of a reaction, but it sticked up to me in a way I'm unable to put to words: an odd side eye, accompanied by a slight squint of the eyes.
Regardless, after he, Charmy and I formed into a formal team nothing really changed in that regard. Of course, it had been a very significant change on lifestyle, to suddenly go from a solitary life to having to work on a team. My humor remained the same, and so did Vector's reactions.
There was this one night particularly bad for me. One of those nights where you can't think straight and the urge to rip open your skin almost takes over. We had a mission for that day, a suicide case nonetheless. We saw the report of the man’s death case and, with a sigh, I blurted out without thinking: “It should've been me.”
No humor behind my words. No attempt of sarcasm whatsoever. I had been so tired I've forgotten one of a ninja's most fundamental principles: never let anything out. I had been too open. I let a piece of wounded mind get exposed to the world to take advantage of. A cry of help for the world to end this misery already and let me die.
Instead, Vector just gave me the same, half annoyed sigh. He had assumed I was joking, and I had gotten consequence free.
That night I had learned that my affinity of the end was no different from my particularly dark humor. Exposing my heart to the world bears no consequences because it's all played for a joke only I ever find funny.
It was liberating to know nobody would ever question me for my words or call me out for them. It was isolating, and I took advantage from that loneliness.
Such comments became part of my daily vocabulary, to which I received mixed responses from different people: side glances, scoffs, laughter, some even added to the joke.
“Edgy” they said, whenever that means. “Teens are just like that” some said. I can't confirm the validity of said claim, or what they mean by “like that.”
I could be making a mere joke, or pouring my heart out from the pure frustration of having to be alive, and every single time I was met with the same sort of answer.
The answer of a joke.
And it would've been perfectly fine if I didn't had the disgrace of living with the most easily influenced child to ever exist. I love Charmy, but he's worse than a sponge on absorbing everything and anything from everyone to the point of becoming a liability to me.
I recall the exact date when this started. Five months ago, two weeks, three days. We were walking through a busy street, someone was selling piñatas by a shop nearby, with the piñatas of the cartoon characters hanging from the ceilings. I opened my mouth to say something. Charmy moved faster and stole my line.
“I wish that was me.”
It only registered after Vector's coughing sound of choking on his own saliva. He looked at Charmy with the most horrified expression I've ever seen from him. “Why did you said that?” Vector insisted. Charmy could only repeat “it was a joke”, unable to explain himself any further.
And, as usual, I asumed by place in the world and stepped aside. I attempted to step aside as usual but Charmy kept on glancing at me, begging me to explain for him and get him out of a trouble he couldn't understand because that had been my joke first. Vector got the hint and gave me this face of “we'll talk later.”
And by “talk” I mean him just scolding me while I remained confused over what I even did wrong. It hadn't been a problem before. And to this day I don't understand why can't Charmy make a joke but hearing them constantly before was completely fine.
That day a new rule surged: I'm not allowed to make suicide jokes in front of Charmy.
All I can say for myself is that I tried.
Death is something that's become an ingrained part of my soul. I'm convinced I'm not myself if there's not a will to die lingering nearby. I don't think it's fair for Vector to ask me to rip away a part of myself like that for the sake of someone that's unaffected by it.
Charmy's fine. He simply repeated a joke because that's what he does. He doesn't want to die. I'll assume he doesn't at least. He's not going to suddenly try to stab himself because I made some comments about doing it myself and all Vector accomplished that day is making Charmy needlessly confused and uncomfortable.
It wasn't in my best interest to go against my boss words. I tried for a while. I kept my mouth shut for some days before another comments slipped away. And another, and another, and another. It came out of first instinct. An impulse to keep reminding the world that I don't wish to exist on it anymore.
Perhaps it's some sort of control play; knowing that I could do it at any moment if I so desired, that I have the option to die if I so desire, bring a sick sense of comfort like no other. Other times it's more of a parasite, invading at the most vulnerable moments, almost possessing me into really going through it. Sometimes it's quiet, only present when a joke calls for it.
But it's never gone. The sweet, gruesome thoughts of death are never fully gone, and they crawl their way into the the external world with a necessity of making themselves known. As such, I couldn't really shut up like I had promised Vector.
And Charmy did what he loves doing the most: copy.
His own behavior was less frequent than mine, because he didn't possessed that privilege of my lack of consequences at emotional vulnerability.
One time Vector got called at his school because he said, and I quote, “what if I just cut my veins instead of solving this multiplication.” I wonder of Vector tried to blame it on me with the director. I wonder if Charmy even knows what a vein is. They suggested therapy. We didn't go through it because that's out of our budget.
Not like it was needed. Charmy's fine. He's just copying a comment of mine that I never got therapy suggested for. Not like I need it either.
Another time Charmy had insisted on helping Amy with helping her bake something. We were all at her house waiting for Charmy to be done. Amy told him to be careful with the knives because he might cut himself, and he answered, and I quote, “Isn't that the poin?”
To say she was alarmed would be an understatement. She immediately rushed to Vector and started yelling at him as if he had stabbed Charmy himself. I suppose Vector's so opposed to Charmy copying me simply because he doesn't want to deal with the public shame of it. He's more in charge of Charmy. He's his responsibility. I can put on any face and that's my reputation and mine only to bear, but anything Charmy does is directly reflected on him.
That's ridiculous, because Charmy's so clearly fine and doesn't require this amount of worrying. Such an unnecessary amount of attention that was never given to me for the exact same words.
Again, not like it's needed.
It had been an annoyance at most until today. The entire world shattered over s simple joke Charmy did without meaning anything with it. Vector was on a date with Vanilla at her house. Me and Charmy were brought so I distract the kids while the other two remain at dining room nearby talking to each other and sharing a cup of tea.
The usual.
Cream and Charmy were playing, I remained at the couch merely observing. Gemerl was guarding by the door as well. The kids decided to go bother the adults for a while. I truly don't know the context of the joke, I wasn't paying attention and simply wanted some piece of mind. So I truly couldn't say what the context of Charmy saying “or I could just kill myself and that'd be easier” is.
The context is irrelevant. He said it nonetheless, and a gasp of horror emerged from the dining room, alongside a cup being dropped out of the surprise, getting shattered at impact.
Cream's confused and scared, Charmy's confused, and Vanilla is tearing up as if she had been the one stabbed, cradling Charmy's face and asking over and over again is he's fine.
He doesn't even get the chance to explain that he was joking because Vanilla cuddles him into her arms, repeating “everything will be ok” with a sweet hushed voice.
“I'm here for you” she said. Charmy just looks back at me as if I had been the one to stab him. Perhaps I should've stabbed myself sooner before this entire drama started. Instead of helping, I just retreat into the shadows as I must. Gemerl steped aside from the door and lets me escape. I can appreciate that he remains logical instead of overreacting at such a little, stupid thing.
One of us has to remain logical, because I'm at a corner, sobbing and curling into a ball. It's ridiculous to get this upset over a problem I'm not a part of.
I can't control myself. The tears keep coming out without my consent. “You're not alone” said Vanilla to Charmy, and the words lay heavy in my heart. Her sweetness burns. It's agony. Charmy didn't even responded because he's fine.
I think he's fine.
I keep on assuming that he's fine and he's only joking. He has to be. He never means anything he says because he's joking and he's only copying me, and I'm fine.
I'm fine.
Everything is fine. I'm not one to need help or comfort or attention or anything. I can handle by my own and I'm fine.
And he has to be fine because otherwise I'll be doing the same evil to him as I'm being dealt with: to ignore a blatant cry for help over the assumption of humor. But he doesn't mean anything with it and he's fine. I'm better than this. I know better to not ignore blatant warning signs.
But Vanilla’s still at the other side of the door with him, making sure he knows that he's heard and loved. And I'm at the other side of the world, crying and sobbing.
It's not like I need that sort of attention. I'm a ninja, I know how to handle myself. A good ninja keeps everything to himself and never ever lets vulnerability show to the cruel, outside world. So why am I craving it? Right now, the world doesn't seem any more cruel than my own mind.
Nothing makes sense anymore.
—Espio…?— Vector's voice startles me out of the spiral—… Are you ok…?
I think of a sarcastic joke to say so he stops treating me seriously. I think of a way to swallow my words and pretend to be calm so he doesn't have to get bothered with the mess I am.
Vector's never been one to be good with any sort of emotional talk. He stumbles and constantly says the wrong thing. I don't want to put that unnecessary weight on him and ruin his day even further. He can't get to know how truly weak and helpless I am.
I don't need help. I shouldn't need it.
But no words come from my mouth. I see him reach a hand, retract it last second, think of something deep to say but regretting it before saying it.
If only I could telepathically make him understand that I'm beyond help and trying will only make him feel worse. Or to erase his memory of my tear-filled face so he doesn't ever see me with that pity expression that twistes my heart.
—I wanna go home— I end up saying, rubbing my eyes with my arms and standing up.
Those are the words of a child. It's like the world has turned bigger all around me while I remain a tiny spec of dust: weak and powerless.
—I'm coming with you— Vector's arm suddenly wraps around my back.
—You're on a date.
—I WAS on a date. I think we've both been sort of ditched out of the house— He let out a forced chuckle— What if I invite you something to eat instead while we have a little chat?
I hate being touched. I hate being close to people, it makes me recoil away from nervousness. I'm not hungry at all, in fact, if I tried to eat anything while in this state of mind I'm sure I'll vomit it immediately. And I don't want to make myself his problem.
Even so, I end up nodding and going along with him.
Charmy remains being cradled by Vanilla in the house. This is different, and I'm certain I won't confess to anything once we arrive to our destination, but I'm not alone, and I suppose that has to count for something.