I’m Alone Again And I Don’t Like The Things I Feel

Days drifted by with Kaho and Shuhei both cautiously keeping distance between themselves. Quiet hours alone with their thoughts left them troubled by the fluster of emotion they’d felt that night. Neither expected or truly even wanted some manner of attraction to appear in the empty corridors of the treatment facility.

Kaho found herself perplexed most of all. Years of increasing isolation and a youth defined by missing connections had convinced her that she was simply unlikeable. It wasn’t that she was unpleasant or mean, she just assumed that her deafness and aloofness combined to make her a difficult companion. Friends had always been thin, even in the Deaf community. Now, this person was seemingly being genuinely kind to her.

In her heart, doubt slipped in and told her it was just politeness and nothing more. Circumstances like theirs would definitely lead to heightened expectations for any connection made in those mountains.

For Shuhei, he had secrets that made his self perception barely better than loathing. Plus, he had a reality waiting for him that was mostly unchanged. Once he was gone from Nikko’s timeless slopes, this gentleness would fade. Neon, alcohol, deception, desperation, extortion, and empty conversations masquerading as interest were all that awaited.

So, without ever speaking to one another about what had been felt there in the glow of the candles, Kaho and Shuhei separately agreed to stop their connection from building any further.

“You seem distracted today, Kaho,” the psychiatrist said.

Sayane signed to Kaho, who read then reflected.

“I don’t know what I want…” she replied.

Melancholy had returned to her spirit. While she had debated on whether or not she wanted any more of Shuhei’s attention, she had come to the realization that nothing had garnered enough interest to be deemed a want.

Affluence and a powerful family meant she had most of the world’s amenities at her fingertips. But nothing spoke to her. In the scope of her recent existence, only nature and Shuhei had given her spirit even a slight reaction.

Sayane had already signed something back to Kaho but she hadn’t noticed. It was snowing again. Everything felt cold. Restlessness was sneaking into Kaho’s mind. This would have been a point when she cut herself.

Blades could have sliced into skin, pulling her back above The Surface.

Instead, she was stuck here, being present.

“What about ikebana?” the psychiatrist asked.

Kaho hadn’t wanted to think on it. After her moment with Shuhei, she was becoming fearful that her joy for ikebana was being influenced by the company of a kind, tall, handsome young man. If that was the case, she’d rather sever that connection as well.

“I am afraid I don’t actually like it, it’s just something available at the moment. And…”

She stopped.

“And, what?”

Honesty was necessary, even if it was embarrassing.

“I’m afraid I don’t like it on my own. I’m afraid I only like it because Shuhei is there.”

Sayane relayed the words without ever showing a hint of endorsement or judgement.

“Shuhei. Do you enjoy spending time with him?”

Kaho nodded.

“Who wouldn’t?” She asked.

Sayane and the psychiatrist both smiled. Kaho continued.

“He’s been so kind to me. And it’s like he understands that I don’t like to talk sometimes. My whole life, when I wanted to talk, no one was there. When I wanted to be silent, others tried to force me to engage. But Shuhei, he just sits with me. He lets me just sit.”

Fucking tears were coming back. All of this was so foreign and goddamn infuriating. Kaho would have rather felt herself floating below The Surface instead of enduring this onslaught of new emotion.

“Have you said that to him?”

Kaho shook her head.

“No. He’s just a kind person. It doesn’t mean anything. I don’t want to put that expectation on him, or make him uncomfortable. No. These small moments are enough.”

“Why do you think it doesn’t mean anything?”

And now the fundamental answer was coming.

“Because people don’t like me. Even in the times when I wanted them to.”

Kaho wiped her eyes and looked out the window.

Fabric shifted along the scars on her arms.

Her stomach felt like it was being pulled inward.

Sayane waited to continue. The subtlest empathetic frown flashed on her face as she paused.

“I… I don’t know how. People don’t like me. And I don’t know how to make them like me…” Kaho sighed.

She wished she was bleeding. At that moment, she wished she could grab any blade available and pull it across every hidden surface. That would have felt infinitely better than sitting here being bludgeoned by unfiltered, unrefined presentness.

But blades weren’t available. And she had to make sure she didn’t allow herself to be deceived any more that someone like Shuhei would ever view her with anything more than politeness or curiosity. That meant she didn’t want to do any more ikebana. If Shuhei was going to be there, it would be too much. He could have it to himself. She’d be content to simply sit by the fire while she sleepwalked through the remainder of her time in this snowy isolation.

That afternoon, as the ikebana class started, Shuhei waited for Kaho to appear, but she never did. Even though he had tried so hard to temper his mind to put up barriers between them, as he sat there alone at his table, he found himself wishing she was there beside him.

Especially since he was down to his final weeks in the facility. After this, they’d only have two more ikebana classes left before he was gone.