We were back in Oliver's house, sitting with our legs folded in a traditional manner, across each other by no more than a mere two feet. I could hear his cute little stutters, his stumbling as he meekly tried to speak behind his white sailor's hat, "I'm sorry. I shouldn't have touched you that way, it must have been very uncomfortable for you." He bowed fully down once more, apologising for what I could then recall to be his eleventh time.

"No, really," I told him, forcing a smile, "it's okay. It was just an accident."

He sighed... and while guilt was still apparent in his expression, he nervously smiled back and muttered a little "thank you."

"We are friends now after all," I told him – my heart beat rapidly; I knew nothing of this, if this was even a common occurrence between normal enough friends, "Some things like this were bound to happen." I reasoned.

He nodded, and at that he finally grinned, "y-you're right."

And though I still kept it my priority to hide my true identity, I felt a strong urge, a thirst for the true experience of not being caged up in luxury.

"Oliver," I perked up, looked at him and caught a glimpse of him jolting in surprise. I read his curious expression as his golden eye beautifully sparkled under the noon light, "what do you usually do around here? I want to learn more about this place."

"Oh, well... There really isn't much." He told through his light accent, "not nearly as much as say, Tokyo."

His words confounded me; confused me for what I could only observe was the complete opposite. The beautiful green and white visible just out the glassless window was comparable to – though I feel it was much greater than – the cumulative 'beauty' of the appressed city. I looked to him with a slight tilt in my head as I signalled for him to continue.

He slightly backed, nervously repeating his point "Th-There really is nothing much you can do here."

I nodded with disappointment. He probably doesn't think as much about the surroundings here; it was, after all, where he had lived for most of his recollectible life.

Then I heard Oliver trail off in his mind, in a state of deep in thought, "Wouldn't it be great if we could live in... in a place with more opportunities?"

My immediate reaction was, No, such a place would not exist. But ultimately, I agreed, "yeah."

He turned to me with a shocked expression when I replied, but it disappeared as quick as it came. I coughed to try and shift away the awkwardness that had built up, then muttered quietly as I stood up, "sorry, I'm gonna get a drink," before leaving.

＊＊＊

I took a deep breath of fresh air and cleared my mind of the previous awkwardness, and I was in no doubt that by then Oliver had too. I walked back up the wooden stairs to Oliver's room, then I heard a dampened series of notes coming through his door. Is that?

My heart bade for me to listen, so I leaned in closer... I noticed the lyrics, "kankyaku no nai ... yoru no saakasu, ano tsuki no tame ni fue o fuke soshite kuro kara aka e..."

I recognise it.

And what was worse? I was singing it!

All my horrors came flashing back to me: the fangirls, the other Vocaloids, and my sister. Surely I'm just imagining this. I had left them to get away from that life only for my best friend to be a fan!? I took another deep breath in—then out... Surely not.

I turned the knob and pushed the door open to see. Oliver was there laying comfortably on his bed, prostrate, with a little radio beside him playing Fifth Pierrot.

I called out his name, to which he turned to me for and made a little smile. I felt my heart race once more as I feared that he would somehow make the connection from the voice on the radio onto mine. He motioned for me to come in and so I did. I sat on my bed, waited and waited for the song to finish.

"O—Oliver," I finally spoke as the final cadence of the song played in the background. He shifted, sat up and turned to me, tilted his head to his side ever so slightly and waited with his sparkling golden eye for me to continue.

"You listen to Vocaloid songs?" I asked, trying to sound as natural as I could.

He nodded, "yeah," then he continued, his hands shaking with enthusiasm, "Len's my favourite. What about you?"

I was, unlike my racing heart, petrified still. That thing was his favourite? That disgusting persona those fangirls shaped? Then a thought appeared in my mind, would he be the same as all those fangirls then? ... the weight of the thought overwhelmed me, I couldn't help but to ask immediately, "why... do you like Len so much?"

He went for a second into a contemplative trance, and turned back to me when I saw he had found his answer. A hint of fear in his eyes... "I like his voice..." Oh great, just like everyone- "The feelings he pours into his songs are really strong. A-and some of the songs he writes himself... have really deep meanings too... y-y'know?"

I took a moment with my mouth agape, taken aback by his sincerity, his purity. He made not a single comment on my 'looks' nor my so-called 'personality'. He talked about me! Sure, I had deeply wished for something more characteristic of me, especially from someone whom I now consider to be my friend, but I knew it was ultimately impossible. He could only get things he could hear and see, and my sister made sure that only what sells got through.

I silently gulped. "What do you think of those pervy songs?" I asked, making a little fake chuckle to help lighten the mood.

"I-I, they are catchy and nice..."

"Do you think he's like that?"

He thought for a quick moment... then shrugged. "T-There really isn't a way to tell b-but it is quite possible."

It was then I realised I had pushed him a bit too far off his comfort zone. I had more questions, I needed more answers, but I knew I couldn't ask them then, and I knew I wouldn't find my answer. Then I noticed I had left his question hanging. I sought to remember it and answer as quickly as I could. "I don't really listen to music much," I told him, he nodded and looked to me with full interest, "I guess I never really had the time to."

His expression changed to one of wondrous puzzle, as if something had just clicked in his mind as I said those words — then his lips parted, he spoke, "I've always thought of the city as a place with countless opportunities... y'know?"

I took a moment to take that in, blinked twice before I could respond. "Strangely, it has always been the complete opposite for me," I chuckled. . . we both knew where this was going.

He nodded, sat comfortably by me as we watched from my bed: the spotless magnificence of a small stretch of lush green grass decorated lightly with wild blooming flowers and white melting snow — just outside the window.

"I—I guess..." I listened to his soft voice beside me, "I've never truly appreciated this 'till now... y'know?"

"It really is beautiful, huh?"

"...yeah."