Misao - i don't want to look back and regret

One good thing…

Oh, how stupid was I?

I’ve had good things before, and I will have them again, whether I want to or not.

All this while, I’ve been chasing after a crumb trail.

One week before exams, Tsukishima sends me a rendition of her singing the Japanese anthem with Iason meowing in the background. There is, quite literally, no context to this. She has a nice voice. I’d show the audio to my parents, but knowing them, they’d probably think I’ve been contacted by a terrorist organization.

Instead of sending me that, how about you send me covers of the following songs?

I send the titles.

Predictably, her response is: send me BL of the following characters:

She sends their names. Some of them are quite obscure, so I can seldom find any references.

Well, mom, dad. Here is your ‘practice’: I revive lost media through gay smut while listening to song covers from bands that you hate.

***

Three days before exams, I solve Tsukishima’s sample test, then send it to her. Words cannot describe how much I miss simple, sensical middle school math.

I was dating someone back then.

I had friends.

My hair was shorter.

The years felt longer.

Summer vacations. Rainy season. School festival. Sports Festival. New Year’s. My last exam season in middle school. My last time walking down that path. My last day sitting at that desk, that bench, that rooftop. Do other people keep their uniforms, I wonder?

These days, I count down instead of the other way around. Two more school festivals left. Two more summer vacations. However many exam seasons. Then they’ll be gone forever. No matter what I do, how much I yearn to go back, there will be no option but to move forward, chasing after that trail crumb, wondering if I’ll ever find a slice.

Then again, I’m only fifteen. How could I possibly know what I’m talking about?

Right?

The day before exams, I don’t study. I pretend to, but I listen to music instead. My room feels like a cage. It’s shaped like one, too.

Every year, one less Christmas to go.

I’ll only be in my teens five more times.

I shouldn’t feel this way when I have so much time left… or perhaps I feel this way because I’m wasting most of it.

I want to hang out with friends.

I want to laugh with other people.

I want to…

I don’t want to look back and regret.

I’m tired of it.

I’m only fifteen.

I’m tired.

I shouldn’t have to feel this way.

I call Tsukishima. If my parents complain about it, we can put their anti-grounding policy to the test. When she picks up, there is silence at the other end of the line. “...uh… Tsuki—”

“Hi,” a male voice responds.

“Tsu… okay.”

“Misao, help. I’ve turned into Jason.”

“Iason!” Tsukishima corrects in the background.

“Yeyson?”

“No! Ugh.” There’s static for a moment. Then Tsukishima picks up. “Sorry, Misao, that was my dad. He really likes pranking people.”

“...right… I’m sure that was your dad’s idea. I’m suuure.”

More static. She’s probably heading back to her room. Perhaps I interrupted family bonding time. Or I liberated them from torture. Hard to tell. I hear a door close. “Dad was helping me study,” Tsukishima says. “But he’s stupid. Can you help?”

“Sheesh, don’t talk about your parents like that.”

“Why not? He also knows he’s stupid.”

Yeah, definitely liberated them from torture.

…them?

“Hey, Tsukishima. If I can ask…”

“Yeah?”

“Uh. Never mind.”

“Ask,” she says.

“Where’s your mom?”

“Ah… so anyway, can you help me study yes or no?”

Wow. Okay, noted. I sit up. It isn’t dark yet, but it’s never truly light during this time of the year. “I’ll ask.”

“Won’t your parents say no again?”

“Probably… actually, yeah. They will. For sure. But they’ll pretend like I have any say in the matter.”

“I mean… I have your address…”

I look outside. I’ll be damned if it doesn’t snow within the next hour or so. “Tsukishima, don’t do anything stupid. I say that, but I know that you will, in fact, do something stupid soon.”

“Yeah,” she says. Stupid and proud of it. What a family.

“Can’t you ask someone from your class to help? Who’s the top student?”

“Niwa.”

“Ugh.” Of course that school also has a top student that’s good-looking, social, and doesn’t study. “Let me guess. He’s also good at sports.”

“Not really, but he can sing, dance, is a model—”

“I don’t care I don’t care I don’t care. You know what? Do whatever you want. Not even my parents will chase you out if you show up unannounced….”

…I hope.

I really do.

I hate how bittersweet that feeling is. How it keeps coming back, no matter how much I try to chase it away. Sometimes it’s called college. Sometimes it’s called running away. Lately, her name is Tsukishima Riona.

So long as it exists, there is always one good thing.

I’m scared.

I’m so, so tired of losing it…