pretty boy
I don't go to school for the rest of the week. Not because I was vomiting, but because I was scared. Scared of seeing them. Scared of people talking to me. Scared of doing schoolwork. So I went to my mom and asked with a quiet, trembling voice if I could stay at home. She asked me why and I told her straight-up that I didn't want to be around anyone. Miraculously, she let me stay home.
At first I thought she would tell me I'm missing too much school, even though I've only been late once and missed school about two or three times prior, but still. To my mom, that's a lot of missed school. So for the rest of the week, I stay at home in my room, working on Robo-Nene, going to the kitchen for a snack, resisting the temptation to work on Robo-nene all night and sleep all day, occasionally visiting Nene and vice versa, and of course, talking to Kiseki about my struggles.
The four days I get home from school pass way too fast for my liking, and before I even know it, it's Sunday again and I'm sick to my stomach with anxiety. About going back. About seeing people. About having to actually do work. About seeing them. I eat some fruit to try and replace the sick feeling with food.
Wait, don't I have homework? No, wait, nevermind. I don't really feel like doing it if I have any anyway. If I do have homework, I’ll just get a bad grade. Not like I have the best grades anyway for me to tarnish. A few neglected homework assignments won’t really do anything.
———
Monday comes and attendance has me wishing I weren't here. "Kamishiro," calls my literature teacher's voice for attendance. I try to will myself to say 'Here'. I make the mouth movements and all but nothing comes out. I try again. "No Kamishiro?" Asks the teacher. Another one of my classmates beside me, someone who joined just a week or two after the Shinonomes showed up. I haven't gotten a good look at him, but I know he's rather friendly. "He's here, he just can't seem to say it."
I swear I have never felt so heard in my life, just from that small act of kindness.
———
For the rest of the day, I try to get to class as early as possible so I can go up to the teacher and tap their desk and get their attention so they know I'm here. This works, thankfully, as they skip my name in attendance, and I'm still counted present. Maybe I could just do that instead of saying 'here' during attendance. That way I won't have to embarrass myself every time I speak up.
Today is also a repeat of sitting at my desk without standing up and saying the absolute bare minimum. However, after school—which by the way, have I mentioned I moved to eat in a different spot on the rooftop? Mainly to avoid them.—I stay behind instead of going directly home. I stand on the rooftop. The clouds are gray and low and look as if they’re one extra water droplet away from downpour.
As if on cue, lightning so close that thunder follows immediately strikes another cloud, making me flinch rather harshly. Behind me, I hear two boys snicker. I turn around to see Shinonome-kun and someone else I don't recognize trying to suppress their laughs. I feel a fat, cold raindrop land on my forehead and slide down the side of my face. Another snicker from Shinonome-kun's friend. I'm about to ask what's going on, but another thunder boom beats me to it, and I flinch again.
Both of the boys cover their mouths to try and stifle their snickering. "Aww," coos one of them. "Is pretty boy afraid of the thunder?" Pretty boy? Isn't that a term for someone who takes good care of his appearance? The exact opposite of me? Or are they using that as some homophobic degradation? But I've said before that I'm straight.
It doesn't make sense. I’m not pretty boy. That’s not me.
———
I rush home shortly after that exchange. It had just started raining when I set foot on the pavement outside of the school. I hurry home without directly running, rain drenching my bag and my hair and my clothes, rain pooling on the ground and splashing with every step I take, drenching the bottom of my pants further than anywhere else. The rain is cold and makes me worry I'll catch a cold. And I had just healed from illness, too…
I make it home and kick my shoes off and ignore my mom's questions on if I'm okay. I run to my room and don't even bother caring about the water I'm tracking through my house. I throw my bag to the floor when I get to my room and shut the door behind me. I don't know why that term upset me so much. But now I'm sitting on my couch-bed with my knees to my chest, sobbing into my arms.
After my crying dies down a bit, my mom knocks on my bedroom door and asks if I'm okay. She pauses, then rephrases her question to ask if she can come in. I nod, realize she can't see any gesture, then reply in the best non-shaky voice I can, "Yeah." The door softly opens a moment later and Mom walks over and sits next to me. She rubs small circles into my shoulder. She says reassuring words and asks me what's wrong. I sniff and wipe at my nose and ask her if I'm too weird. "Honey…" she responds. "What makes you say that?" I sniff and wipe at my nose again and wipe at my eyes. I guess Mama doesn't care that my clothes are still soaked, since she's still rubbing my shoulder soothingly and not commenting on the rain-soaked fabric. "At school, nobody wants to be my friend." Mom asks me about them, and I break down crying again.
Mama continues to try and calm me down. She asks me if I need—no—want anything. I tell her I want to homeschool and lock myself in my room and never talk to anyone again. Mom tells me I can't do that, but if I need to stay home from school for a little bit, then I can. I'm shocked she said I can. She stands up and gives me one last comforting pat on the shoulder, then walks to my closet. She gathers a change of dry clothes for me and tells me she'll call the Kusanagi's and see if I could stay at Nene's house for a bit. I respond by telling her I don't want to talk to Nene right now, and ask if I can just stay in my room for the rest of the night.
After a bit of pleading, Mom gives in and says I can stay here. "But I expect you to be showered and staying warm, especially after you've been in the rain," she tells me. I nod and she leaves. I spend another 20 minutes in my room, shivering and hugging a blanket around me. I'm too cold to get up, no matter how warm the shower water may be. Eventually, I do stand up and walk to the bathroom, but I get distracted by my reflection in the mirror. Pretty boy. I reach up and tug at my hair. Tangles and knots and not well-kept at all. I feel at my skin. Textured and not at all paid any attention to. I look at my uniform. Hastily thrown on and wrinkled. Pretty boy is not a term to describe me. That's like looking at Shinonome-san and calling her a selfless, nice student. Polar. Opposites.
I spend no longer than 20 minutes in the shower and quickly pull on the change of clothes my mom got out for me. When I get back to my room, a bowl of soup resides on my nightstand alongside a cup of warm tea. I'm not sure which type. I'd rather work on Robo-Nene than study the different types of tea and what each one does to you.
I sit on my couch-bed, wrap a million blankets around me, continue to shiver, and reach out for the bowl of soup. I carry it to my lap and set it down, where the heat seeps through the bowl and the fabric of my pants and warms up my lap. If only I were warm all over. I spend the next however long it takes to eat my soup, shivering and occasionally sipping the tea my mom also provided. Despite me telling Mama I didn't want to talk to anyone, Nene still knocks at my door. I open the door and step aside so she can enter. I don't want her standing in the rain for too long.
"It's dark in here," she points out. All the lights except for a lamp emitting warm light are off—which reminds me, I still need to get a replacement bulb for my night light. "Your immune system sucks," she tells me. "I'm not even sick. Mom thinks I am, though. I was in the rain for a while." Nene tells me I'll still catch a cold. I bite back the temptation to tell her that you can't catch a cold from rain, it just increases your likelihood of catching a cold. She asks me where Kiseki is and I pull him out of my still rain-soaked bag. He's slightly damp from the rain seeping through. Nene and I talk for a bit as Kiseki dries out in front of a heater Mama brought in. She greets Nene while she's at it and reminds me to be polite. Nene shoots a glance at me.
After a bit, Nene leaves and I'm left alone in my room. The rain pounds heavily against the outside door. I shiver and check constantly if Kiseki is dry yet. After a moment, I join Kiseki in warming up in front of the heater. Once Kiseki is dry, I pick him up and wrap him in a thin blanket. Mama comes back and takes up my empty mug and bowl and asks if I want anything else. I tell her I want people to be nice to me. She tells me I just haven't met the right people yet. I don't believe her.
———
I cry to Kiseki and cry into his fur and tell him school is horrible and that I wish I were homeschooled like Nene. Kiseki stares back at me with beady, black eyes and I cry even more. I hug him tightly until I remember I may be suffocating him and I let go. Footsteps come to my room and I wipe my eyes quickly. Dad walks in and greets me with a "Hey, kiddo." I thought I told Mama I don't want to talk to anyone. He kneels in front of me and says he's going grocery shopping later and asks if I want to come along to buy whatever food I like—as long as it's legal. I sniff and nod because why not?
He pats me on my knee and tells me we'll leave in a few hours. I spend those few hours making myself look presentable enough. He comes back and asks if I'm ready and I say yes. He takes me out to the car since it's raining and I'm already at risk of a cold and an umbrella probably won't do much. He parks at the grocery store and we run inside. Dad walks about the store, me following behind, looking at any foods that catch my eye. I land eyes on a few toaster pastries—would Pilsbury come after me if I just straight-up called them Toaster Strudels? I pick up the box but put it back. Too sweet. Instead, I grab a few microwave mac-n-cheeses and put them in the cart.
The rest of the grocery trip isn't anything special. Well, until we get to the checkout. While Dad is busy placing everything on the conveyor belt, I catch sight of pink hair. Pink hair. Shoulder-length pink hair. They can't be here. Why are they here? I'm not sure if they spotted me, but it doesn't matter, because I'm running off in the first direction I think—the restrooms.
I can't let them see me cry, hyperventilate, panic, gasp for air, be a complete mess. Sitting here is a struggle, a cycle of gasp for air, choke, sob, scratch at my arm—or arms, kick, gasp, choke, sob, scratch, kick, gasp, choke, gasp, gasp, sob, kick, gasp, scratch, scratch, choke, gasp, shake, scratch, gasp, sob, gasp, gasp, gasp again. I can't get enough air. There's not enough air. I need more air, I need—!
"Are you okay?" Who…? I've heard that voice before. But I can't put a name to the voice. I feel the presence of a hand hesitating to rest on my shoulder before it pulls away. I turn my head and there's the boy that spoke up for me during attendance a few..I don't even know how long ago. Wait, wasn't it today? It feels like forever since then. Back to the boy. Blond hair…amber—almost gold—eyes that seem to sparkle (I'm jealous), and a genuine look of worry on his face. I stare at him. If I'm considered 'Pretty Boy'—from now on, I'll be capitalizing the term. I feel as though Pretty Boy deserves its own title—then what would he be? Angelic Boy? That sounds dumb. Gorgeous? No, that's trying too hard. Whatever. What I'm trying to say is he's…a sight. Definitely a sight.
Ah, I didn't respond, did I? I swallow down my remaining gasps for air and nod. "Y…Yeah…I'm…I'm okay," I tell him, though it's quite obvious I'm not. "You're Rui, right?" I nod again, and try to say, "You sit next to me in my literature class."—I notice almost everyone I recognize as either acquaintance or adversary sits in my literature class somewhere—but the boy beats me to it. "You sit next to me in first period, right?" I nod again. "How come I've never noticed you?" he asks me. He asks a lot of questions. I shrug. "Well, I'm Tsukasa. Tenma Tsukasa," he says and holds his hand out, expecting me to shake it. I hesitantly reach out to shake his hand but it pulls away at the last second as he makes some grand gesture and exclaims about being a 'world future star'. I withdraw my own hand in embarrassment.
Tenma Tsukasa. He's certainly something.
A positive something.