First off, some admin. I don't know how many people reading my stuff initially will even still be on the site but if you're here then hello old friends. It has been too long. I'm sorry it's been a year since I last posted, I had some unfortunate problems to deal with and it's taken me a while to get back on track. I want to finish this route and I hope that I can continue to do so with the same criticism and guidance that helped to shape my story from a rushed and un-researched initial post to what I hope did and
can make people have a good/sad and fulfilling time with this story. Saying that, again massive thank you to Brythain for proofreading and patience it's always appreciated and special mentions to anyone who was reading and/or commenting last year when we set off on this, namely Swampie and Sharp O for cheering me on and Mirage who's praise and advice has helped me so far immensely.
Act 2 Chapter 5 Crucifix
We all have our crosses.
Waking up to hear rain on the window pane is probably one of my favourite ways to start the day; my mother used to tell me I’d be a poet when I’d sit on the windowsill watching the rain hit the ground and cars. But honestly, poetry never appealed to me:
“Creativity is a curse,” she used to say and I don’t doubt that. Taro’s a prime example of a trapped soul, and his passion is cooking. Which, speaking of, I could really go for right now. He never cooks us breakfast on a school day, but flicking my phone screen open, I’m almost tempted to plead with him to come over to the girl’s dorms. Instead I prematurely silence my alarms, having woken up 30 minutes earlier and decided, instead of getting up and ready, to listen to the pounding of the rain that's almost divine in its persistence.
Keep tapping on my window, you’ll get revenge someday
Whether or not my drive for chemistry (first period), or just to escape the thoughts circling my head, propels me out of my bed and into the day is a thought even I might question--though I learnt long ago I can’t run from the latter, hell, I can’t run at all.
As I swing my rounded thighs over the edge of my bed, an unsilenced yawn forces itself up my throat and into the morning air. I withdraw my outstretched arms to rub the sleep from my eyes. Beside my bed lie my two metallic augments, straps hanging loosely over their sides, chinks and scratches shining off of the metal as I turn the lights of my room on via the gadget Hisao was all too enamoured with a couple of days ago.
Hisao
For the second consecutive morning, I feel my heart skip and my face flushes, the joy of it beyond any descriptive power. The moment we kissed, coiling round my brain, is enough to make me bite my lips to restrain the smile on them. I even giggle a little replaying every little detail over and over, the way he tasted and felt, the way he grabbed me as I started to slip and wiped the tears from my eyes as they welled up.
It must have been weird for him. How many guys would really be patient enough to stay the way he did?
My thighs slot into my legs easily, un-creamed and unchecked under the fallacy that I’ll do it tonight, or maybe tomorrow. I almost see nurse shake his fist at me behind the curtains of my imagination. I clip on my skirt and throw on a new bra, shirt and jumper. The grey pairs well with my choice of ribbon colour today, of red. As I finish plaiting my hair on both sides and letting my plaits fall forward, I tie the fabric to the left plait as a band and run my hand through my fringe of hair causing it to jut out as usual. Luckily it’s not greasy, but I definitely plan on showering tonight. The bed frame and side-table allow me to stabilise myself as I stand upright, rooting through my drawers to find my bow.
Call me a slob, but the packet of chips in my emergency rations box suits me for an adequate breakfast, and with a final scan of my room, I clasp the strap of my bag over my shoulder and head out, shutting my door behind me with a dull thud and locking it.
Time to wake up the dream machine
Walking across the carpeted hallway turns to the scary when, before even a second knock on Suzu’s door, she throws it open fully clothed and ready behind it with her eyes still closed and her breath still heavy. She almost seems possessed with that kind of strength and I can’t help but worry: I mean, there’s stories about murderous sleepwalkers and everything, I half expect her to smash her fist into the wall and pull out the rebar as in the manga I’m reading, but instead she opens her left eye.
“Hello.”
She closes said eye and steps blindly into the hall turning in the direction of the common room and, without another word, disappearing down the stairs In perhaps both the most lethargic and yet precise way I’ve ever seen from anyone.
Though I can’t say things like that happen very often.
I’m officially freaked out.
Being the paragon of friendship that I am, I decide to close and lock her door for her, given that I carry both of our keys on me. And briefly tracing my hand along the wall as I turn, I too walk down the corridor with likely as much lethargy. Though the idea of Suzu wandering haplessly into the rain is a funny one, I realize I should probably stop her from becoming a human ice-pop, so I speed hobble my way past the few second years sitting with their legs on each other in the common room. I briefly hear something about ‘girth’ and bolt out.
“It’s not what it looks like.”
“Pillows don’t talk, Hisao.”
Before me stands an umbrella-bearing Hisao, Suzu leaning almost abnormally forward against his chest, with one of his hands propping her up to make sure she doesn’t fall. He begs me with his eyes to help him, so I cross my arms and attempt that cool leaning pose in movies, with nothing to lean on though I doubt I replicate the look very well.
“Well well well, what are you doing here?” I ask in what I hope is a sexy secretary-esque way, lifting my chin up as I do so.
“I brought an umbrella because I figured you wouldn’t have one. Then she walked head-first into me, calling me her pill-OW!” He’s interrupted with a sharp jab to his hip by Suzu, who jumps back but ensures she stays under his cover.
“Why would you say it like that, huh? Most guys would kill for a cute girl like me to bump into them.”
“You didn’t
bump into me, you head-butted me!”
Reaching into my bag I pull out my- Yeah, I haven’t got an umbrella--he’s right.
And here comes my smile in five, four, three, two…
No, totally misjudged that, I’ve been smiling since three.
“Yeah whatever, let’s get this school train started.” Suzu gestures me over, before turning in the direction of the school, and tugging her imaginary cord with an appropriate ‘woot woot’ beneath the rain.
Shaking my head with a smile, I hurry to the safety of Hisao’s umbrella while he gives me this awkward
do I kiss her face look, and though I’d very much like that, I don’t know who’s exactly watching from the dorm windows directly above us. I’d call myself a nerd in the traditional sense: undue attention sure makes me uncomfortable. So instead I settle for hugging him around his waist quickly, a feat made easier due to my small stature.
And with that, the three of us set off down the gravelly path to class at about the speed you’d expect of a narcoleptic, an arrhythmiac and a double amputee. The rain pelts down on each side of us, and if it weren’t for Hisao’s arm over my shoulder I’d have long been displaced due to Suzu’s swinging and swerving steps, criss-crossing just ahead of us, it must look pretty strange to Hisao but I guess you get used to the weirdness of tired Suzu. It’s clear she’s not been sleeping right.
Synthetic as it is, Yamaku’s grounds remain well kept, though you’d think heavy rain would somehow change the mood of the campus, the flowers remain at their bolt upright angle on either side of the walkway, with the half-hoop flowerbed perimeter gleaming its oak leaf green despite the pouring rain, almost as if the sun, hidden as it is, reflects still when it’s not there. I suppose some kids here would despise the hospital-like feel to the somewhat artificial gardens and I won’t lie that I’ve been In that same position, but as a lover of science, how can I feel anything but pride in the human ability to replicate and control nature in just that way? Though one look at my ‘legs’ is enough to show both the genius and abhorrent nature of science.
“Sure, but you have Molly to thank for that.” Suzu claims, lifting her hand up In a dismissive response to whatever Hisao must have said, which I've missed as I was pretty tuned out.
“To thank for what?” I ask.
“Wait, you didn’t hear
any of what we just said?!”
“Noooo?” Well, that’ll teach me to zone out like that I guess. Suzu for her part just slaps her hands against her face, screaming inwardly.
“I could have totally bitched about you! What a missed opportunity!”
“Hey, I don’t think I would have gone along with that,” Hisao interjects feebly.
“Trust me, she doesn’t need any agreement nor any encouragement, Hisao,” I reply, as we reach the main entrance to the school. Suzu doesn’t bother waiting for Hisao to close his umbrella, giving us the few moments between bustling corridor and pouring rain alone. After he finishes putting his umbrella in its sheath and shoving it in his satchel, he smiles at me warmly.
At least take your shoes off before you run through my mind.
I guess my reluctance to kiss him earlier set the precedent as he just pats my head before turning to enter, gesturing at me to do the same, with his extended arm hovering behind the small of my back, almost pushing me with him despite his gentility. Though it’s not like I want to wait outside in the rain.
I don’t spend much time glancing at the walls. This time, every window we pass looks more and more submerged beneath the rain outside, and the slate-grey sky parallels the beige corridors in monotony. The stairs again damage my self-image as I pant near the final floor, a damage lessened by Hisao’s equal panting. There is a lift, but the hospital staff used to talk of little victories and by now I feel as if it’s tradition to struggle up the staircase.
The classroom comes up just on our left, students of all varieties flooding into their respective rooms. Before we can even enter, Miki comes up behind us, throwing her arms around our shoulders, mine being the easier throw obviously though I do get the one with her stub ha-wrist.
“Heya love-birds,” she grins, and I can almost feel her jaw jutting into my cheek. ”Suzu said you were official now.”
Of course she did.
You’d think it would take more than a couple of days for a rumour like that to get to Miki.
Wait what am I saying? Of course you wouldn’t.
“Well, we’re not official,” Hisao teases, dragging out the last word for dramatic effect.
“W-wait... we’re not?” I feign offence, contorting my face in mock disgust at him, which the one-handed girl between us accentuates with an overly dramatic sigh and ‘tut’ at Hisao. She moves her arm from around my shoulder and waggles it as though her fingers were still there before realizing her muscle memory has no muscle to use and covers the stump with her remaining hand.
I know the feeling.
“Hey you never actually agreed.”
Touché, Hisao, touché
“What do you think about this, Sir?”
Wait- wha...
“Well I, uh,” Mutou awkwardly mumbles from behind us, whom Miki had decided to turn and face. She’s gesturing at the two of us with her outstretched arms kennelling us together. “Excuse me,” he coughs, pushing past us, thankfully dropping it there. Hisao elbows Miki in her hip earning him an outstretched tongue, and I thank the gods that Suzu is passed out at her desk or I’d never have escaped ridicule.
We all enter, shambling to our desks with scared-stiff shoulders. And for once the morning, despite the rain, seems to be worth the early start, Miki’s awkward joke notwithstanding.
Well, it does, until Mutou scratches a page number on the board.
I hate the Forces module.
**********************************************************************************
“Yeah mom, no, no, of course not. Yeah. Yeah. I am. I will. Bye. Love you too. Bye. Bye Bye.”
Listening to Suzu’s weekly call to her mother back home always seems to sound the same; the reluctant breaths between each lie of agreement to send photos or write letters always creep me out. Mrs Suzuki, the only person I’ve ever seen Suzu submit to. And I don’t blame her, a week in the Suzuki family’s home last summer felt like living a year in the wilds of the Amazon, it’s dog eat dog there. I suppose three older brothers gives that house a kill or be killed lifestyle.
The high-pitched beep of the phone signals the end of her encounter. Flicking it closed she sighs and falls back on the wall, bending her legs as far as her brace will allow. Her light blue-green hair puffs up with her breath at the fringe, her eyes firmly closed as she wipes a hand across her forehead. Opening one eye she looks at me, a tiny laugh escaping her.
“Well that was a shit show.”
I’ll admit I wasn’t expecting that. But after last night’s events with Hisao I’d sorta forgotten that Suzu had problems to talk about. Maybe getting them out of the way now would be a good idea.
”Mother’s booked me and Taro a hotel room and seats for I Am Alice in the city for the three day weekend.”
Well, there’s another curveball, though Suzu’s tone doesn’t show any signs of the excitement I know I’d be feeling if someone had booked such a surprise for me, rather, she closes her eye again and presses both palms to her face, dragging them down and pulling her skin slightly giving her a ghoulish look.
“That sounds romantic, aren’t you excited?” I ask, genuinely confused by Suzu’s reaction.
“No, I wish that idiot hadn’t introduced himself to her last year,” she sighs again, now moving to the bed and laying herself flat like a starfish, her appendages hanging limply off the edges. “Romance doesn’t really fit a fuck buddy Molls.”
The terms she uses almost make me cringe: the brutish matter of fact way she speaks is both relieving and intimidating. The nature of her relationship with Taro has always confused me but the way she exhales and lightly groans makes me highly doubt that it’s just about sex. That, and the way her voice quivers. She feels for him; I’m no psychiatrist but even the blind kids here can see she likes him. But I’ve never understood why she doesn’t go for him--if it’s just a friend thing then why lead him on?
“Hey, why not give romance a try?” I ask, more timidly then I think I should feel around my best friend. But the air feels pointed.
“You serious, Molls? It just ain’t like that.”
“Do you just not
like him?”
“No, I do. It’s just... I don’t want to hurt him Molls, call me a pussy or whatever but I know when I’m bad news for a guy.”
Well, some best friend I am then. She looks down at her toes and it honestly looks like she might start cr-
Yep she’s started to cry, crud, I’m not used to sensitive Suzu and I don’t think any amount of chemistry is going to help me here. Shit. Talk about coming out of left field. Not surprisingly she accepts my hug and ends up resting her head snugly between my breasts. Granted, she’s not sobbing--but it’s enough for me to feel the wetness working its way through my linen shirt.
“I’m so tired of being called a bitch, when I’m just trying to protect him, Molls,” she carries on, muffled by my body making her sound like she’s squished. I’d honestly laugh if she wasn’t upset. “I like him a load, too much maybe, I don’t want to risk anything with a relationship.”
I really have no idea what I’m supposed to say here, I guess Taro couldn’t have been further from the truth when he thought she didn’t like him, but I seriously can’t help but feel like a terrible friend. I’ve always known she liked him, she didn’t stop talking about him when he first showed up. But I had no idea she felt this strongly, I guess I kind of fell for her emotionless act too. Which hurts.
“Suzu, you really do worry too much. You know damn well he wouldn’t let you go if you guys got together.” I may just be re-hashing the old with this, like a broken record, but we both know how much he likes her since he never shuts up about it. And yet her fear of a relationship bothers me too, like, why wasn’t I afraid of Hisao? If anything it’s something I was totally and utterly excited for, everyone comments how fast I moved. Though I have to credit Taro for it all, really.
I know I owe him, and I know Suzu is his happiness.
From the window a thin wisp of setting sunlight snakes into my eye, like a cut from my eyebrow to the base of my neck. The raindrops of the day are still lying restless against the pane, slowly dripping down and hexagonally slicing the rays of sunlight that hit it.
Refraction, I tell myself.
Suzu opens her mouth to reply, no doubt to tell me I just don’t get it but I lift her head from my chest and stare her squarely in the eye, which actually involves me looking up ever so slightly, maybe reducing my intimidating effect. “You can’t just be afraid of everything Suzu, you won’t get anywhere without taking a few risks.”
She stares back, moist eyes no doubt blurring my form to her, but she gets my point. It wasn’t exactly a thesis on the beginning of the universe--which reminds me, I’ve got a fantastic book waiting in my bag--but at least I said something.
“You think I don’t know about risk Molly?” She practically snaps that at me, before sighing and the redness from her face lessens, “All it would take was for me to collapse on a hard surface or somewhere high and he’d be alone, I just can’t hurt him with all that.”
My thoughts are dragged kicking and screaming to my night walk, Rika scratching the words ”time bomb” on the chalkboard brain inside my head.
Heh, ironic that my heart’s the one dropping right now.
I want to tell her about Hisao, but I know it’s not my place. Yet at the same time I finally think I understand her reasons a little.
It may be a burden knowing you could die at any time, but having had five years of therapy sometimes makes me wish that I was the one on the receiving end of that bargain.
“Besides, he’d blame himself, we both know how melodramatic that boy is.” She laughs, dryly.
And I know a thing about blame, my two crimes now embodied as my new legs.
Little miss murderer.
I can’t help but laugh.
And cry.
Sensitive Molly is also not my strong suit.
“M-Molly?” She’s not asking why I’m crying.
“You’re an idiot Suzu.” And I’m not telling her to stop.
“Oh piss off Molly,” she says, wrapping her arms around my back to prevent me from doing so.
“You honestly think he isn’t already attached enough?” I ask her, putting my hand on the back of her head as to keep her from looking at my own now wetted eyes. It makes her look uncomfortably slouched, honestly.
“You’re not going to die, Suzu, I won’t let you,” Orange light pours through the window and... Christ am I hungry. “Just give the guy a chance, for me?”
“But Molls,” She mumbles into me, the warmth spreading along my chest. “He’s pretty dangerous for a narcoleptic. One working arm and particularly unfit, sounds like a recipe for disaster.”
“There’s always a risk Suzu. Life is unpredictable.” Like one day you can walk on your own and the next…
She ‘umms’ for a second before nodding into my chest, and this victory feels like winning the impossible. “I’ll try, Molls, okay?” then giggles a little still holding me. “It’s like I’ve got two mums, get off my back already.”
“You’re actually holding my back, Suzu.” My retort, similar to how I feel, is small and restrained.
“Besides, Molly,” Suzu sniffs and collapses backwards still holding me around my hips, pulling me over her uncomfortably, “You really think a Suzuki wouldn’t negotiate an extra room?”
***************************************************************************
[Sure I’ll be right there.]
With a click to the side button of my phone, the lit up display darkens and I drop it into my bag beside me, leaning back into my castle, its cushy spires encasing my sides beneath layers of soft fabric.
My talk with Suzu yesterday, despite being tearful on both parts and honestly not making much ground did have one benefit: it left me with an opportunity to finally explain myself to Hisao. Maybe 7 o'clock on a Wednesday isn’t the best time to do so, but I’ve already texted him, so it’s now or never.
Well, not literally, but you get the point.
Surely though that problem Is solved through crystallisation?
I physically sigh, just now realising that Jenny’s real problem is just her lack of safety equipment.
Being this smart is honestly a burden sometimes.
I sound like Shizune,
sign like Shizune?
My book held above my face with my left hand and my right holding the pencil from which I scribe, I sigh. ‘legs’ outstretched into the seeping glow of the setting sun enough that I can almost feel it against the metal of them. I want to scream into the quiet of the library, but my better judgement stops me.
“Urgh.” I don’t think any manner of magic could get me back the thirty minutes I just wasted missing the entire point of my chemistry work.
Jotting something down about goggles and proper first aid, in handwriting that could be mistaken for that of a four year old, I shove my workbook back into my bag in exchange for something more,
gratifying .
My guilty pleasure
“Synthesising Foods, Frankenfoods”
I relish my abnormality, opening the book to its checked place and pining it with my thumb, browsing for where to resume, finding it at the application of Synthesised Foods in a modern society and indulging myself with what feels like only thirty seconds of my absolute favourite topic. Though Hisao’s arrival proves rather that the reality of my time in trance was really about ten minutes. I almost don’t see him hovering above me with the intensity of my reading. He looks ready to just leave me to it, but I plan on teasing him so can’t just let him sit yet.
“Aren’t you supposed to greet your girlfriend?” I ask, in enough of a playful tone to be audible under my whisper.
“Who are you and how do you have my number?” He doesn’t really sounds serious but his tone doesn’t strike me as his usual joking voice.
He sort of stares through me for a second, before smiling warmly and tiredly, loosening his shoulders as he does.
“Howdy Girlfriend.”
“N-no that’s not what I meant Hisao.”
Wow.
Nothing.
Like honestly nothing, he just looks, like nothing. I don’t see any emotion on his face.
“Never mind,” I say, honestly kind of disappointed, but again dark bags hang heavy under his eyes and he really doesn’t look well. Confused, he scratches his head before kneeling down and bringing his face to my face. He places his hand behind my ear, stroking his thumb over it and leaning in, touching his lips to my cheek like he’s some 70s show girl. Then he tries to pull away smoothly but trips and lands on his ass.
“I’m smooth,” he says, a tiny smile on his lips and listing to the left.
“The smoothest,” I retort, “Tired?” I ask.
“Just a little.”
He shuffles to his left another inch, just enough to prop himself on the other, I’d argue less comfy , beanbag. Though only slightly, I see his bottom jaw unhinge as he sighs, the slightly kinked tie breathing with his chest.
“They say you can often tell a lot about a person from the books they read.” He restarts the conversation, a second of silence apparently too much for even tired Hisao.
“Oh yeah, so what does this tell you about me?” I ask, expecting a smart ass-reply.
“I’m not them!” His hushed laugh is infectious, though silencing mine ends up forcing a snort rather than the cute giggle I’d hoped for.
“You read a lot don’t you?” I ask, my thumbnail considerably shorter on the hand holding my book apart.
“I had a lot of time for it in the hospital.” I knew that Hisao spent time in hospital but it still catches me off guard a little.
After an awkward moment of silence, Hisao pulls out a binder from his leather satchel. Time passes with us just attending to our own books. Perhaps this is the more ‘comfortable’ silence Suzu always begs Taro for, though I can only guess the time from the light pouring into the library, now a moody orange from its earlier, brighter hue.
“Hey Hisao,” I murmur, content with my page progress.
“Hey Molly.”
“What are you doing for the long weekend?”
He shrugs beside me.
“Nothing. You?”
“Was thinking of going with Suzu and Taro into the city for a couple of nights.”
“That sounds…Rambunctious.” I… I don’t even know what that means but he slurs it in lethargy.
“Yeah, well I wanted some company and thought-“
“Yeah I’ll let Shizune know you’re interested.” His exhausted laugh turns into a grunt as my strategically placed metal foot digs into his hip. In fact, I think he nearly directs his eyes to me for a second.
Nearly.
“So, you coming or not?” Tilting my head to glance sideways at him treats me to the sight of a baby-smooth chin retreating back into his binder.
“Yeah sure, though this doesn’t sound cheap,” I don’t know if he’s trying to joke or being serious on account of his playful tone but I can’t see him smiling obviously. “I might need to call my parents.”
A sheepish cry comes from the counter of the library, the shrill librarian likely crushed again beneath a heavy pile of books. The orange day-line glow pouring in through the window has slowly turned almost red, the end of the day approaching and painting crossed squares against the soft carpet floor, yet I can’t help feel like time has stood still.
Suzu’s parents had agreed to pay for the additional room, but there’s only the two tickets for the show so I don’t try and persuade him not to call his parents.
After all, I’m overdue a call with my mother. Maybe the incentive of a trip to the city with my pseudo boyfriend is just the push I need to pick up the phone.
I’m making Suzu be strong, I have to give this all a go.
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I really don't like to post without anything substantial or a chapter, but I noticed so much feedback I just had to say cheers. And hello again sharp-0, good to see you're still interested man! Hopefully we can get a brief bit of sweetness in that dread hey?