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Your name is Aiki Hirose, picture-perfect high school boy from nowhere special Japan. You like streaming movies on your laptop, hitting up family restaurants with your friends after school, and petting cute dogs at the park when their owners permit it. Most importantly—or at least at the forefront of your mind as of recent—you're pretty sure there’s something deeply wrong with you.
You suppose everyone’s got a little something wrong with them. Your friend Takeuchi, for instance, becomes a raging idiot the moment he steps within a 5-meter radius of the girl he likes. Your other friend Oomori is the sweetest a guy can be, but that sweetness evaporates whenever the drama club president gets involved. Mukai’s snarky, Matsumura’s too pushy, Todokori’s always shouting, even the teacher you look up to most has his issues (if that's how you'd classify a nicotine addiction). Then there’s you. Average in every way minus your Japanese lit scores, which sit comfortably below the class standard. For someone with so much shit to say about everyone else, your own self-reflections often come up short. Because the biggest problem with you is that you’re incredibly boring. At least that’s what you’ve come to believe. And that might be the worst offense of them all.
The first time you heard it was in elementary school, sometime around second year. You were eating lunch with some friends, though to be honest you were more preoccupied with your own fleeting thoughts than the discussion at hand. What would your mom make for dinner that night? Will that stray cat still be sitting on the wall when you walk home? The light in the corner keeps flickering, why was your sister so annoying, what's that buzzing sound, is that a spider on the windowsill, why are-
“Hirose, what did you think?” You blinked, and suddenly reality came rushing back. Everyone stared as they eagerly awaited your input to a conversation you were barely paying attention to. Something about a show? Some new mecha anime that aired last night? Right, now you remembered. You didn’t particularly care but it was good, so you said as much.
“I liked it.”
They waited. You wondered if maybe that was the wrong answer, if an opinion can even be wrong. After a beat of silence a kid asked, “That’s it? Nothing else?” You simply nodded, what else was there to say? Then it happened.
“Y’know Hirose, you’re kind of boring.”
Boring. He said it so matter-of-factly, like it was just another truth of the world. The sky is blue, Tokyo is the capital of Japan, and Aiki Hirose is a boring person. Your friends turned away, picking up their chat as if nothing happened, but the word clung to your neck like a drop of sweat in the summer heat. Dribbling down your back as your heart sank to the floor.
—
It became apparent real quick that the way you presented yourself wasn't gonna cut it. No one wants to hang out with a kid who has nothing interesting to say, and zoning out all the time is generally considered poor etiquette. So you started faking it. You became more attentive, honed in on every little reaction and response to best calculate your own. It was like a form of studying to you: How to be a Normal Person 101 with Aiki Hirose. You learned that different friends expected different things, which meant tailoring your personality accordingly, which meant constantly playing a different version of yourself. While it didn’t exactly feel natural the results spoke for themselves. Sure, you were exhausting all your energy hyperanalyzing every social interaction, so much that you still weren’t truly listening, but at least it seemed like you were. That's all that truly mattered. Looking engaged meant being liked, and being liked meant fitting in. Every teenager knows there’s nothing more important.
By the time you got to high school you were basically a pro. You even came to enjoy the process of figuring people out. It was almost like a puzzle game, something to keep your brain occupied when you couldn’t focus on the conversation itself. Laugh now, crack a joke, bring up that show they like, copy the reaction of the guy next to you, rinse and repeat. It helped that your new friends were easy to get along with— you only had to raise your personality by a couple notches to match their energy, plus they were genuinely fun to be around. At times they’d drone on and on about topics you couldn’t bring yourself to care about, not even in a fake way. Particularly Takeuchi’s endless monologues on girls and dating. Poor Hamaoka. But overall you’d consider your high school debut a success. You were even seen as popular, which was never the case unless you asked Matsumura from middle school. Things were going to plan. Yet that word still lingered at the outskirts of your mind, just close enough to make itself known. Boring. Which is why it didn’t matter how tiring it was to play a character all the time. It didn’t matter when your brain yearned for a moment to itself, or when you just wanted to sit and listen without needing to force a contrived smile every five seconds. It didn’t even matter that you were slowly forgetting how it felt to exist as yourself. Because if everyone knew what you were truly like you’d go back to being that same lonely kid from elementary school. A waste of time.
The decision to ask Okuto Nakamura to walk home with you for the first time was a bit of a mental battle. On the one hand he seemed like a nice enough guy—empathetic to animals, decently friendly, not as scary as the gloomy bangs and resting bitch face seem to imply. On the other hand… he didn’t exactly make the best first impression. What are you supposed to think when someone stomps on your handkerchief hard enough to leave a footprint? Or worse, shoves porn at your face, then proceeds to smile shiftily like someone’s perverted uncle? Definitely interesting to say the least. But as you’ve always said, everyone has a little something wrong with them, and that’s never stopped you from making friends before. So you decided to give him a chance. Not like Sato’s worksheet was gonna walk itself to Dangogaoka. With a deep breath you headed over to his desk.
“Hey Nakamura, wanna walk home together today?”
As much as you’d like to deny it you were super anxious as you left the school gates (though you’d never let that show). This was your first time one-on-one with the guy for more than two minutes, no Oomori or even Kawamura to cushion the awkwardness. At least with the gym door mishap you could blame the situation for the tense atmosphere. If you fumble a simple walk home that’s entirely on you. Just starting a conversation was throwing you for a loop, what personality were you supposed to use around someone who was constantly sending out mixed signals himself? He seemed shy in class, but then you remembered the bookstore incident and that flew out the window. Was he secretly a mega perv like Takeuchi deep down? Or do you act more gentle and friendly, like how you comforted Kawamura in the storage closet? You couldn’t come to a solid conclusion, so you went with the most failproof option: ask questions and let him do the hard part. People like talking about themselves, you’ve come to realize, so your only job was to prove that you were listening. A skill you’d become mighty fine at faking over the years. Only… you didn’t have to fake it. Cause by some miracle Okuto Nakamura, the oddball loner who was always falling out of chairs or glaring at you in art class or getting cockroaches stuck in his uniform, was easier to talk to than anyone you’ve ever met. It’s weird, usually you find it incredibly hard to fully focus on what people are saying. Your brain tends to drift around aimlessly, like an unmanned sailboat tugged along by the eclectic winds of your racing thoughts. But for whatever reason listening to him made the waves settle, if only for a moment. Maybe you liked the sound of his voice when he wasn’t shouting and panicked, or maybe the fact that such a mysterious dude turned out to be relatively normal caught your interest. You had no idea. And honestly you were in no rush to find out. It was just nice to be in the company of a person who didn’t make you overthink everything.
As you finished your delivery and began the walk back you caught yourself feeling slightly bummed that it was coming to an end. Which was odd considering you usually jumped at any chance for a little more alone time. Being with Nakamura felt the same as being alone. Not in a bad way, more in the sense that you could take a breather, not worry about carrying the conversation. Nakamura was a lot more talkative than you expected. You asked about his sister and he started ranting like a total madman, just laying into this 14-year-old like she was the bane of his existence. It wasn’t even that funny, you doubt he intended it to be, but for some reason you started cracking up. This was the guy you were so intimidated by? Mr. I have beef with a middle schooler? It got so bad that you had to stop walking for a second to catch your breath. What a good feeling, genuinely laughing in front of another person. When was the last time you did that? A real laugh, not because it felt appropriate for the moment or because everyone else was. A laugh simply because you wanted to.
“You’re funny!” You wiped the tears from your eyes. Then you noticed Nakamura’s expression, his face beet red as he stared down at the floor. Fuck, you must have embarrassed him. “Sorry,” you apologized, keeping up a cheery exterior while silently cursing yourself for being so careless. This is what happens when you let your guard down. He probably thought you were making fun of him, now he’ll never want to do this again. Without meaning to your brain flipped to autopilot, words spilling out of your mouth like sewage from a busted pipe. You told him everything you’d been thinking—how scary you found him initially, how nervous you were to ask if he’d come, how his personality surprised you, ending it off with “You’re pretty easy to talk to.” Once you finished your spiel the regret set in. Were you some kind of idiot?! It took all your willpower to stop yourself from banging your head into a telephone pole. There’s a reason you never open up like that. Those kinds of thoughts don't make people like you, they make you look like an asshole. Why would you tell a guy to his face that you think he looks intimidating? You waited for him to give you a weird look, or push you, or… or something. He never did. Instead he grinned, small and shy but the furthest thing from mad. You weren’t sure how to feel about that. All you knew was that your face felt just a little smidge hotter.
It was only as you went your separate ways, waving to each other at a branch in the road, that you realised you didn't try to intentionally match his energy. You didn’t have to. You were already on the same wavelength.
“I’ll go check it out by myself real quick!” You watched as Nakamura ran off, ducking into the aquarium down the road. Immediately you knew you fucked up. What the hell was your problem? It wasn’t that expensive, why did you say it was? Especially in that tone. He clearly wanted to go, so much that he’d rather be alone than miss his chance. In that way maybe you really were similar. Now you'd lost the opportunity to find out. Part of you considered running after him, but those kinds of theatrics weren’t exactly your style. Too flashy. Too... impulsive, something you had to fight really hard not to be. You turned to your left and found Oomori just as baffled as you. Guess you were a duo now. Which was fine. Hanging out with him is always fun, you’d been longtime friends for a reason, but secretly you’d been hoping to spend more time with Nakamura all day. Much longer than that day to be honest. He’d been on you mind more and more as of late, poking around in a back corner like an itch just out of arm’s reach. You relived that day you walked home together more often than you’d like to admit, enough to make your head start to spin on late nights when you struggled to fall asleep. You preferred not to think about why.
“I guess we’ll catch up with him later,” Oomori said, interrupting that train of thought. “Want to check out that shop over by the fountain? I still have souvenirs to buy.”
You choked your feelings down, mustered up the friendliest smile in your repertoire, and gave him a thumbs up. “Sounds good, lead the way!” Though your body moved forward, following Oomori to a gift shop on the other side of the block, your brain stayed planted in front of that damn aquarium, cursing yourself for being such a coward.
Ten minutes passed. You found yourself hunched over a rack of trinkets, mindlessly sifting through rows of keychains and plush pandas that you had zero plans to buy. Oomori was definitely saying something next to you but all you could reply with were stock “yeahs” and “uh huh”s. All your actual attention was locked into an intense internal battle. Why can’t you stop thinking about him? Are you losing your mind? It felt like you’d been chasing that high since the walk home, that feeling of pure ease and comfort that no one has been able to replicate since. What's so special about that guy? Was it a fluke? You spend a lot of time trying to control your impulsive thoughts, shutting down things you want to say or do for the sake of fitting in. Much like your tendency to zone out you’ve accepted that people don’t like guys who act without thinking. But something about Nakamura made your brain go totally haywire. Enough to make you do stupid things.
“Hey Hirose, what do you think of– Hirose?”
Before you knew it your feet were moving on their own, darting out of the shop like they were in a race against the clock. Which they were, in a way, you’d already wasted ten minutes. He might be gone by now.
“Hirose?!” Oomori called again. “Where are you going?”
“Heading back, don’t wait up!”
“What?!”
“Sorry dude, I owe you one! Think I saw Mukai a few shops down if you wanna join his group. Call if you need anything, bye!” However he responded you didn’t wait around to hear. You were already halfway down the road.
—
It’s impossible to describe how it felt when you saw him, squatting in front of an octopus tank under the dim lighting of the deep sea exhibit. Mostly because you barely understood it yourself. Like something inside you lifted, whatever that means. All you knew for certain is that you recognised it, that feeling you’d been desperate to recapture for weeks now. This was exactly where you needed to be. You smiled and walked over to him, certain that you made the right decision.
The thing about class trips is that they can actually be fun when you're not worried about performing for your friends, plus whatever random classmates got thrown into your group. This was your first time discovering that. It was safe to say that Okuto Nakamura wasn't a fluke. He was everything you hoped and remembered him to be. He was normalcy. When you talked it felt like you’d know him for ages, not less than half a year. Everything felt so smooth, so seamless, as if he was custom-made to understand your brain chemistry. Your mind still drifted, you’d come to terms with the fact that it always would, but the difference with Nakamura was that he never minded if you fell silent for a while. He never asked if you were feeling sick, or whined that you were ignoring him, or assumed you were being rude and went off on his own. He simply let you exist as yourself, whether that meant bouncing around to whatever exhibit called for your attention or simply standing side by side in complete silence. He was probably just going with the flow to be nice. Even so, for once in your life it felt like being a little boring wasn't such a bad thing.
When he opened up about his insecurities you told him that it's best to be honest with yourself. Quite possibly the most hypocritical advice for someone like you to dish out. It weighed on your consciousness, that gnawing feeling that you were a filthy liar for acting like some wise old sage when you couldn’t follow your own sentiment. So in a quiet moment, hidden away in your own little pocket of the aquarium, you let yourself be vulnerable. You told him how you prefer to be alone, how you struggle to keep up in conversation. Simple feelings, yet ones not even your family were fully privy to. You didn’t tell him everything, some thoughts are too heavy for a friendship as fresh as yours, but it was more than you’d ever said out loud. And it was scary. Just a couple sentences were enough to leave your stomach a nauseating mess of knots. But once it was all out in the open, guts spilled on the floor with only the two of you and a couple tanks worth of fish as witnesses, you felt…at peace. You got up and stretched, mostly to avoid making eye contact.
“Where should we go next?” you asked.
“Anywhere you want.” You didn’t say it out loud, but you thought that maybe you really would go anywhere as long as he was there too.
“I’ve admired you for a long time, please go out with me!” The girl before you bowed, holding out an envelope sealed with a heart-shaped sticker. It felt surreal. Takeuchi had described this scenario many times, usually during one of his delusional fits (which happened at least twice a week). He’d gush about Yuuka’s “inevitable” confession, then rattle off every hypothetical detail like it was the climax of some shoujo anime and not the insane ramblings of a guy with zero romantic prospects. He’s nothing if not optimistic. You’d listen and roll your eyes, but part of you thought it sounded kind of nice, at least in theory. Even though your interest in romance hadn’t grown, you assumed that would change when the moment actually came. What teenage boy wouldn’t get excited about a beautiful girl asking to date him? Takeuchi would implode from jealousy when he found out, and even Mukai would have something to say. Yet there you were, standing in front of this objectively perfect girl as she presented one of the biggest honors a high school boy can receive. And you felt absolutely nothing.
It was complicated, you told yourself. For one, you didn’t know her at all, not even her name. You knew she was in the class next door and remembered passing her in the halls a couple times, but that was the extent of things. So why you? Personally you couldn’t fathom “admiring” someone while knowing essentially nothing about them. Though you supposed no one really knew anything about you, not the real you. Well, except Nakamura. Second, you still weren’t entirely comfortable talking with girls, as childish as that sounds. For whatever reason they felt impossible to figure out. There were a couple you got along with, Kawamura for instance, but generally they had you stumped. Which you acknowledged was stupid, they’re just normal people, same as you. It was less about girls themselves and more about the way everyone talked about them. Your friends, TV shows, your own parents, everyone made it seem like there was some special protocol to follow when interacting with the opposite sex. A protocol every boy in school seemed to innately know but you. It was too confusing for your already frazzled brain. If you could barely make friends with girls, how were you supposed to date one? What did dating even mean? In all honesty it sounded like more hassle than it was worth. The best course of action would be turning her down, for both of your sakes. So what came out of your mouth next was a surprise even to you. “Sure.”
As you walked back to the main building, hand-in-hand with this stranger, you could only think one thing. I’m a total fucking scumbag. In retrospect you were being dramatic, but at the time that’s how you felt. Like the biggest scumbag in all of Japan. There were a couple reasons why you agreed to date Hana (whose name you finally learned, thank god). The main one was that your friends would have crucified you if they found out you rejected such an offer. You could already hear Takeuchi screeching in your face at point-blank range—what’s your deal blah blah blah, do you know how lucky you are blah blah. Such a pain. It also felt like the nice thing to do, give her a chance at least. But deep down you knew those were excuses. The real reason was entirely tied to your own selfishness. You didn’t like her. You weren’t sure if you ever would. You just liked that she liked you. It was an irresistible feeling, being chosen. You spent your childhood as the “boring” kid, then your teenage years playing a chameleon of different characters. The you she “admired” was likely one of them. Wasn’t that why you did it in the first place? You uprooted your entire approach to life for the sole purpose of fitting in. This was proof that it was working, that it was worth it. One of the first guys in class to enter a relationship, that Hirose sure is an interesting dude. As you thought about it more you came to realize that this could be a turning point in your life. You’d learn how to fall for girls like a normal guy. You’d finally understand why Takeuchi gets butterflies in his stomach whenever Yuuka gives him a modicum of attention. You could grow to love her. Maybe things were looking up for Aiki Hirose.
—
“I’m sorry Aiki, you just…you aren’t the person I thought you’d be.”
Welp, that lasted long. Would it be insensitive to say you saw this coming? Logically you should have felt sadder, or at least done a better job acting like it, but to be honest the relief won out this time. You were lowkey celebrating in your head. Man, past you was right, you are a scumbag. You were about to thank her for her time so you could peacefully part ways, but she wasn’t done.
“I don’t want to be rude but well... you’re honestly a bit boring.”
Oh. That one actually did sting. Meaner words would have hurt less. Hana’s mouth kept moving but the words muddled into white noise amidst the cacophony of thoughts pounding against your skull. Boring. You tried so hard and you’re still boring. That’s all you’ll ever be, no matter what you do to pretend you’re someone else.
Suddenly you caught the faint sound of footsteps approaching from around the corner. You looked past Hana and made eye contact with none other than Nakamura. He had two trash bags slung over his shoulder like a cartoon robber scurrying away to his getaway car. You had to choke back a laugh. Of course he would show up now, he always seemed to find himself in the stupidest situations. Getting interrupted like this should have been super embarrassing, but seeing him made you feel a little better.
“Aiki?”
You wondered what he’d think about the situation. Did you ever tell him you were dating? It kind of felt like he’d been ignoring you recently, which bummed you out a bit.
“Hey, Aiki!”
You should ask him to hang out again. That afternoon at the family restaurant was a lot of fun, Takeuchi’s spit-take aside. You wondered if he likes movies…
“AIKI!”
“Huh?” You snapped back, and realized Hana was squinting at you.
“You’re doing it again.”
“Doing what?”
She huffed. “Nevermind. Just go, I said what I wanted to say.”
“Oh uh, ok.” You bowed to her. “Thank you. I’m sorry it didn’t work out.” Then you ran off, feeling oddly light considering what happened. As you turned the corner you noticed that familiar head of black hair walking a couple feet ahead. You grinned, and sprinted after him.
—
3:00 am. The very same day you got dumped by your first girlfriend ever. Yet all you could think about was some guy. Absolutely humiliating. The 3:00 am part was normal, you’d been prone to overthinking in bed since you were a kid. Something about the quietness that accompanies sunset always sends a fresh tsunami of thoughts your way. Usually stupid stuff— worrying about tests, cringing over embarrassing bullshit you did in middle school, dumb hypotheticals, etc. Also being boring, of course. But that night your thoughts were dominated by a different word. Charming. What did he mean by that? You think about him, looking down at you with that gentle smile of his.
“Can’t she see how charming you are?”
Ugh. You slammed your face into a pillow, then rolled around a bit for good measure. This time you really were going insane. Never in your life had you thought about another person this incessantly. You pulled out your phone and stared at the new number sitting in your contacts. His profile picture was an octopus, cause of course it was. That's so him. Huh? Since when were you close enough to think corny shit like that?! You almost text him right then and there: hey Nakamura, I know it’s 3 am but what did you mean when you called me charming? I've been agonizing over it for two hours. Thanks. Gah, you almost feel desperate enough to do it. Before you can risk blowing up your friendship over stupid impulses you fling your phone across the room, where it plops onto a beanbag chair in the corner. You groan. Then you bury your face in a pillow again, acutely aware of the way it burns.
“Let’s check out the observation deck!”
You stood and left the gazebo before Nakamura could respond, almost tripping over the stairs in your haste. By now you thought you'd gotten used to his exaggerated reactions, but between almost bursting into tears over a measly keychain and his “EVERYTHING” outburst you think this may be a new record.
Everything! Everything about you is charming!
You tugged your baseball cap down over your eyes, brushing past your cheek in the process. It felt hotter than ever before. Not even you were naive enough to ignore the implications. All day you'd been putting your true self out there. You even admitted to bawling over a movie you wouldn't have given a second glance around your other friends. Not only that, but he cried harder than you. Takeuchi would have complained about how you should’ve caught the newest action flick instead, and Mukai would have snarkily pointed out all the plot holes. Both would have called it boring. Nakamura thought it was beautiful.
As you considered all of this, strolling down the path to the observation deck, you recalled moments walking home with Hana during your brief stint as a couple. With her you'd get about two seconds to mull things over in silence before she was pulling on your sleeve. Which was normal you supposed. Couples are supposed to talk, it's not her fault you're a drag. You glanced up at Nakamura walking beside you. He seemed perfectly content even though you hadn't opened your mouth in around five minutes. Just happy to be around you at all. Then your gaze drifted down to his hand hanging at his side. Your face grew hot again. Oh. So this is how that was supposed to feel.
You wondered if Nakamura’s claim that everything about you was charming included the boring parts. The quiet moments and the spacing out. Your bland responses and lame taste in movies. Your tendency to ramble on about AquaPet even though he wasn't all that into them. Your dumb scatterbrain getting distracted by any and everything. It was hard to imagine that someone who’d seen all that still described your personality as charming. Even you thought you were boring. The curiosity was almost enough for you to outright ask him, but honestly your earlier question was embarrassing enough. You didn't think you could take a second round. So instead you decided to trust in Nakamura. That even if he did find you boring, even if you're the blandest, most vanilla, most uninteresting cardboard cut out of a person, he somehow found every bit of that charming.
You chuckled to yourself. What an odd person he was. That shy kid in your class who’s not actually that shy, who’s funny and expressive and looks out for the people around him. The guy who notices things about you that no one else bothers to look for, who encourages you to stay authentic to yourself. The boy who would look really cool with his bangs cut just a smidge shorter, with really nice hands and a surprisingly cute smile on the rare occasion you got to see it. Okuto Nakamura. The only person in the world who’s ever made you feel pride in the word boring.