I stare at Kurumi-senpai's idiot brother out of the corner of my eye as he scribbles furiously into his notes, chin propped on my hand. His mouth ticks sideways every now and then when he makes a mistake in his notebook, and the sight inexplicably drops something heavy in my throat.

As I watch, he abruptly slows, unscrewing his pen to take in his now empty refill, his expression carefully blank.

I let my hand drop, my heart thumping in my chest as I wait to see if he'll ask to borrow mine. But the minutes drag on, and the teacher continues to give us pointers on the lesson, oblivious to the idiot's problem. He just sits there, lips in a straight line, and...I don't fucking get it. Does he think he's above borrowing stationery from regular folks like us? Why won't you just ask me?

Cursing internally, I toss my pen onto his desk. He watches it roll to a stop before looking up at me with wide eyes. "Thank you," he whispers, before briskly returning to his notes.

I turn my face away. Whatever. So he's good with a fucking broom. So he can sound grateful. That doesn't prove anything.

*✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:

The school bell blares, signalling the end of class and snapping me out of my daze. Not so much as a second later, that meddlesome girl, Rubi Amari, is at my desk. I groan. "What?"

"Let's go grab lunch together," she eagerly suggests, hands splayed on my table.

"Don't wanna."

Completely ignoring my refusal, she shifts her attention to the idiot nerd and adds sweetly, "Akito, why don't you join us?" I whip my head towards him, waiting.

"I appreciate the offer," he answers mechanically. "But I'm a little busy right now. Sorry." Busy. It's the fucking lunch break.

I shoot to my feet and make for the door, because I know that if I spend even one more second near this shitface, I'm going to end up strangling him. "That's alright, see you later in class then!" Amari calls out to him as she hurriedly follows after me.

"What are you getting? Bread?" she asks as we walk, crossing the length of the sports ground towards the school canteen. "Why do you care?" I mumble. Nobody asked her to be here. She keeps casually popping up out of nowhere, like we're...friends or some shit. It's fucking weird.

"It wouldn't hurt to answer me every now and then—gah!" Her sentence is cut short by a ball that comes flying our way from the baseball court on the far side of the field, bonking her over the head. A suppressed chuckle slips out of me, my lips failing to cover up my amusement. Amari shoots me a dirty look, rubbing at the sore spot in her skull.

A moment later, some guy in a sports uniform shows up to fetch the ball, and I toss it back to him over the top of Amari's head. He plucks it out of the air and comes to a stop before us, his face flushed. "Are you alright? I'm really sorry," he breathes, his eyes alight with worry.

I glare at him with my hands stuffed in my pockets, but Amari simply waves him off. "I'm totally okay; don't worry about it."

He nods gratefully, and I think that he's finally about to leave when his gaze reluctantly shifts my way. Ah shit, here we fucking go again. "Hey Ichijou, so I... I watched you run yesterday, and you were so fast, man. And I guess I have to ask. Do you want to play with us? We could use—"

"No," I snap. I'm not good with groups. I can't be a part of a team. It just never works out. One day they're all falling over themselves, inviting me to join in the game, and the next, they're fighting about who should be the one to tell me to leave. And I'm sick of it. I'm sick of it all. "How many times do I have to tell you people? I'm not interested, so leave me the fuck alone."

I saunter ahead, leaving Amari behind, knowing full well what she's going to say next.

I'm sorry; please don't mind him.

He's always like this.

You should just ignore him.

"Ren," she calls out loud instead, her voice harsh and authoritative. I freeze. "What was that? Come back here and apologise." It takes me a full moment to process what she just said, and I whirl around, staring at her in quiet disbelief.

"Huh?"

I know that I'm not good at keeping my feelings in check. It's just so fucking hard to go through the incoherent storm in my head and pick out the right words every single time. I can't help but slip up every now and then and say things that I shouldn't, and I know that I could try harder to be nice, but I've just never seen the point of it. Who would I be doing it for? These people who smile and drag me into their midst but cut me out the second it starts to get a little inconvenient? These people, who are always so quick to resign themselves to my behaviour, exchanging awkward glances each time as they watch me walk away?

But...right now, there's this meddlesome girl here, and she's telling me to come back. Nobody's ever done that before.

The guy's eyes dart between us once before he breaks into a smile. "It's okay, it's okay; don't worry about it," he says pleasantly, the stutter gone from his voice. Seriously though, you were awesome on track yesterday, man," he adds, turning around to fully face me. "Having you on the team would be great, so drop by anytime you feel like. See you around!" I stare after him as he runs off, confused.

"Do you always have to be so rude?" Amari grumbles, catching up to me. "It'll give people the wrong idea about you."

Brows crinkling, I stare down at her once more. Why do you care? "I don't understand what the hell you're going on about," I mumble as we walk.

"Oh, please," she mutters. "You're not half as bad as you make yourself out to be. Anyone who stops to look at you for more than one second can see that."

I don't know how to respond, so I quietly lower my gaze to the ground, my feet crunching on the grains of sand as we walk. Amari sighs, and I feel her shift closer, her arm softly bumping into mine. "About what I said the other day," she begins, and I stiffen. "You've gotten to say what you want to. It's only fair you hear her out too, don't you think?" My throat tightens up, and I look away, uncertainty clawing at my heart.

"Hey, it'll work out, okay? You'll see," she says gently, bumping my arm again.

Instead of giving her a proper reply, I take one hand out of my pocket, pointing at the spot on my head where the ball seemed to have hit her earlier. "Does it hurt?" I mumble somewhat awkwardly.

Amari blinks up at me, and an entire minute runs out before she opens her mouth to respond. "Oh, uh, not really?"

"I was right in thinking that you have a thick skull then," I grumble.

Her eyes widen, and a startled laugh escapes her lips. "Jerkass."

*✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:

My stomach protests loudly as I dig deep into the junk in my study table drawer for stray coins, only to come up empty. I curse and recount the rumpled notes I have left to double-check. A total of one thousand and three hundred yen. The sum will barely cover my school lunch expenses for the next four days, and it'll be at least another week before I can get ahold of any more cash.

I feel a sharp sting at my fingertips and register dully that I've been pressing into the wood of my desk so hard that I ended up chipping a nail. However, the pain is a welcome distraction from the empty cry of my stomach. I sigh inwardly and glance at the box of protein bars sticking out from underneath my bed, the sight kicking up bouts of revulsion in me. Why does bodily sustenance need to be such a pain in the ass?

I trudge over with dread and pull the box out, the sight of the orange wrappers inside enough to make me gag. So much so that, for a second, I even think about asking my robot parents for some money to buy a normal dinner. I immediately feel deeply disgusted with myself for even fucking considering it.

I don't remember the face of the babysitter who raised me or the ones that came after her, but it wasn't my mother. She's never done a goddamn thing for me, and I'm not about to start asking her to now.

Frustration tugging at my insides, I hurl the box of protein bars against the wall, where it gives way, scattering its contents across the room. I squash one of them under my foot, the bar splitting in half with a satisfying crunch. Screw it all. I don't fucking need them. I don't fucking need food. I don't fucking need anything.

I stumble backwards and fall onto my bed, my deprived stomach involuntarily conjuring up images of steaming rice, soft shapes, and plums. Kurumi-senpai's rice cakes are the fucking best in the world. Nothing can come close. I could kill for them right now. I could kill for just a single bite and for the laugh I would get to hear when I told her exactly that.

Beside me, my phone lights up with a ping, and I twist on the sheets to see Kurumi-senpai's caller ID displayed on the screen. I numbly decide that it's worth eating another protein bar if it will get my mind to stop fucking with me. I automatically swipe at the screen with clumsy fingers to get it to shut the hell up. It stops buzzing, and an instant later, a sound cuts into the room.

"Ren?" The gentle voice. The careful question in it. It's unmistakable.

I scramble upwards for the phone and smash the red button to end the call, my heart thrashing violently in my rib cage. Fuck. My phone pings again, this time with a text.

Senpai (8.30 pm): What!???? Rudee
Senpai (8.30 pm): Can you come down? I'm outside ur house. Need to talk.

I sit motionless on my bed, phone in hand, breathing unevenly.

Senpai (8.32 pm): Please.

I let the phone drop soundlessly onto the bed, moving towards my window in a daze. I cautiously lean over to look outside, and she's really here, in a faded yellow hoodie, her hair messily knotted in the back. It's really Kurumi-senpai. When her gaze catches mine, she begins to wildly wave her arms around, the gesture frantic and childish. There's something unmistakably wrong about the sight. There shouldn't be a sun in the sky after dark.

"Ren!" she calls excitedly, the sweet sound of her voice ringing into the night. I silently press my forefinger to my lips. I don't want my parents to hear her. She draws back, an apologetic smile on her face. I motion for her to wait and slowly step out of my room, shutting the door behind me.

With each step that I descend, I become increasingly convinced that I imagined it all—the silent exchange through the window. But when I tiptoe across the foyer to avoid my parents' notice and finally open the door, she's still there—the whole of her, even her blinding smile.

"Sorry for just, um, showing up," she says sheepishly, huffing out a shaky laugh. "You look like you've just seen a ghost, Ren. Rubi didn't tell you that I would be coming?"

If she had, I'm not sure that I would still be here. I don't deserve this.

"No," I whisper, the sound barely leaving my lips.

"Well, I'm here now, so um." She holds a neatly wrapped package up to my nose. "I brought you some dinner! You'll never guess what it is!" I reluctantly take it from her, too afraid to speak. "That's right," she continues. "Rice cakes! With pickled plums!" Chest swelling, I glance down at the lunch box, and Senpai laughs at the look on my face. "Please don't tell me they're still your favourite food. Honestly, Ren, you need to consider getting a fresh set of taste buds."

I stand stiffly before her, a prickling sensation rising in the back of my throat. Fucking hell. This can't be real.
"Thank you," I say measuredly, fighting the torrent of words gathering at the tips of my tongue. I can't mess this up.

She smiles tenderly and makes herself at home on my front porch, bringing her legs close together and expectantly looking up at me. I quietly sit down beside her and lower my head.

"So, um," she starts, fidgeting with her fingers. "I'm sorry about the other day; I, er, got a bit too emotional." I stare at her blankly. What the fuck? Why is she apologising? "I'm the one who asked to talk, but in the end, I didn't even hear you out properly. It was unfair to you, and I'm sorry, alright?" She smiles again, and I want to scream, to tell her that she doesn't have a damn thing to be sorry for. But I can't. I can't fucking figure out how to say it.

I resist, but my mind violently draws me in, reeling me back into a memory I've relived a thousand times over. The day Kurumi-senpai confessed her feelings to me, and I said the wrong thing. The image of the grim look of disappointment in her normally warm and vibrant eyes has been burned into the back of my head. I can't be the reason for that look again. Fuck.

Her face dims, and she turns away, drawing her knees closer to her chest. Panic claws at me. Fuck, of course I need to say something; I can't just...I can't do this.

"So you won't talk to me either, huh?" she mumbles, a wet sheen lighting up her eyes.

I blink at her. "Who...else?" I croak.

"Akito," she whispers, staring distantly into the dark.

Everything goes momentarily quiet at the sound of that name, and I slowly turn to face her, the grappling thoughts in my head rapidly changing course. Bastard. "I knew it," I growl. "He treats you like shit, doesn't he? That fuck—"

"What? No, no, that's not it," she sharply cuts me off. "He...it's my fault," she finishes, smiling up at me weakly. "I should have made more of an effort to try and get to know my brother."

"Don't fucking say that," I mutter, unconvinced. "He's a—"

"We spent nearly ten years apart, and in all that time, I barely ever went to visit him." Her voice quivers dangerously. "No wonder he doesn't trust me, right? I was never there for him when he needed me, Ren."

This takes me a moment to absorb. "He could have visited you too," I grumble stubbornly.

She shakes her head. "He needed to stay with our grandmother. He couldn't have left her by herself," she says, stretching her legs out. "My brother is amazing, you know? Used to take care of Baa-san all by himself, even though he was still so young. Got her all the right medicines, helped her around the house, and single-handedly managed all the finances." She laughs. "When he should've been in somebody else's room playing video games and eating snacks. No wonder he just never clicked with the other kids his age."

"Oh," I say dumbly, frowning.

"Yeah," she fondly whispers, then slowly gathers herself together and stands up. "Speaking of which, I should probably get going! Don't want to make him worry, you know?" She hops towards the gate, and I numbly get to my feet. "I hope you like the rice cakes! Make sure to eat them all at once; they might go bad, alright?"

I nod, wiping my sweaty hands on my pants. "Senpai..." Fucking apologise. "I'm sorry. About everything," I say lamely.

She grins and punches me in the arm. "It's okay! Don't worry about it anymore. We're good now."

I nod again as my heartbeat slows to a steady thrum. We're good. It suddenly hits me—the implication behind those words, real and fresh. We're good. Does that mean that I didn't screw this up?

"Senpai," I push forward, now driven by an unreasonable hope. "Thank you," I mumble, burying the dryness in my throat. "For the food. And for sending the bread and tissues to me the other day." I trail off at the lack of understanding on her face. "That night at school," I say desperately. Oh, hell no. " I was by myself, and..." It couldn't really fucking be him. Impossible. "And...nevermind, it's...it's nothing," I finish limply, when all I get in return from her is a confused smile.

"I'll see you again soon, okay?" She says cheerfully. "Please take care of Akito for me at school. Don't let him take on too much on his own. I can count on you, yeah?"

I nod mechanically and watch her walk away, grateful for the light skip in her steps.

On my way back to my room, I cross paths with my mother, and she disappears into the living room without so much as looking my way, too busy to even spare her son a glance. I suddenly find myself thinking about Senpai's idiot brother—the bright brown of his eyes when I thanked him for getting a water bottle to me after my race yesterday, the redness in his cheeks. He wears the same hardened expressions as them, but maybe they're not so similar after all.

My parents constantly rely on their money and on their hired workers for everything from driving them to work to preparing their meals. He isn't like that. It's really obvious that he works hard, and sometimes it even looks like he might care.

I clench my hands together.

So...

If you're not really like them, then, 

would you make time

for someone like me?

END OF CHAPTER