Great Expectations

Agami spent the night at my place, maybe the 'perfect' way to wrap up whatever the hell our friendship had turned into.
He’d crashed here plenty of times before, but I’d never stopped to notice the look on his face while he slept.
He had the expression of someone dreaming of the next day coming fast.

I wonder, all this time, what had his nights been like?
Did I ever think about it? Probably—definitely—not.

I’ve always had a weird way of doing things, an annoying way, to be precise. But I’d love to know when that annoying way turned into something that, one way or another, ended up hurting him more than either of us thought.

They say there’s something comforting about sleeping next to the person you care about. I wouldn’t know if that’s true.
I didn’t know if I actually felt something for him or if my words were just another lie my brain tried to pass off as kindness.

I wouldn’t know if it’s true because that night, I did nothing but put out one cigarette after another while staring out the window.
What was I supposed to do now?
How could I explain all this to Iori without her feeling like I’d stabbed her in the back?
How could I act with Agami in front of her?
I hate to say it, but something in our conversation hit the nail on the head: there was no going back.

I was in the moment every person who’s spent endless nights alone might dream of. I had an idiot to talk to when I skipped class… and another idiot who’d offered me his love, sleeping right in my bed.
So why did I feel so empty?

I thought about calling Iori, talking about anything, but she’d probably curse me out and hang up.
I’d do the same if someone woke me up at four in the morning.
I sat on the balcony for a while, snow piling up on me. It was uncomfortable, but I didn’t feel like moving, even though I was freezing.

Some things you only understand in complete solitude, when the only voice answering your thousand questions is your own.
I understood two things—or rather, remembered one and realized another.
I remembered my mom always saying that no matter how it looked, you should never eat snow… and I realized my time was getting shorter than I’d thought.

I barely managed to stand, the simple act of moving making my body register the cold I’d exposed it to. I shook the snow off my clothes and went back inside. I passed through the bedroom, trying not to make noise, closed the door, and headed straight to the kitchen.

“Haaa… guess no one gets out of this world alive…” I muttered to myself, glancing at the clock on the wall.I put some water on to boil for coffee, turned on the stove, and made what someone, in some universe, might call 'toast,' though they looked more like chunks of charcoal or a meteorite than anything edible.
I rummaged through the fridge for jam or something to mask the burnt taste.
All we had was the strawberry jam my mom bought all the time.

I set the toast on a tray, grabbed the coffee mug, and headed to the bedroom.

“If I’m not getting out of this alive… I’d rather regret the things I do than the things I don’t…” I repeated, though I don’t know why my lips trembled as I spoke. I didn’t know why, but I did know it had nothing to do with the cold.

I took a deep breath, did my best to change my expression, and kicked the bedroom door open.

“Agami, the damn house is on fire!” I shouted as I burst in.

Agami shot up, scanning every corner of the room like he was in a horror movie before slowly locking eyes with me. “You are a complete and total idiot, you know that!? Why the hell do you wake me up like that!?”

“Thought it was the fastest way,” I said with a laugh, setting the tray and mug on the nightstand.

Agami flopped back onto the bed, eyeing the nightstand. “You think after waking me up like that, I don't know... you could’ve at least made breakfast for me too?”

“That is your breakfast, you piece of shit…”

“That?” he said, staring at the toast with near-horror.

“If you don’t want it, I’ll eat it, so screw you.”

“Hey, leave it there!” he said, scrambling to grab one. “Tastes like a strawberry ashtray…” He examined it like a scientist after the first bite. “You poisoned it, didn’t you?”

“Idiot… should’ve suffocated you with the pillow,” I said, collapsing onto the edge of the bed. “Morning, by the way.”

“Kidding… when’s the last time someone made me breakfast?”

“Since you used to sneak in here in the mornings so my mom would make it for you…”

“Oh, you remember that?” he asked, laughing. “I had to sneak out before my dad woke up… you know how—”

“Yeah, I know exactly. How it was… how it is, I mean,” I said, cutting him off mid-sentence.

It’s funny how we have this stupid tendency to dismiss other people’s pain. Agami and I weren’t so different—just wearing different masks over our hurt.
When we were kids, it was fun watching him climb from his window to mine, like we were playing spies, not a desperate kid escaping his house.

Seeing him now, I never imagined someone like him—someone who seemed so opposite to me—could cry over something as simple as breakfast.

“Hey… you’re gonna dehydrate, idiot,” I said, keeping my tone steady, though seeing him like that tied a deep knot in my throat.

“You’re the idiot…”

“Tell me something I don’t know, Sherlock. Oh, wait… hey…”

“… What?…”

“For real, you like me?”

“How the hell do you ask that at a moment like this!?” he said, rubbing his eyes with the sleeve of his shirt.

“Because… you know…” I ruffled my hair in frustration, trying to find a way to say it. There were only two options, and between them, keeping up the act—I don’t know. I felt like a poorly paid actor, so why not stop? “I want you to stay tonight too. And the next night… and the next…”

“You mean…?”

“Yeah, idiot… you and me… you know, cheap romance, all that nonsense…” I paused before continuing. “Guess... I’ve got great expectations.”