Toyota Sprinter Trueno AE86

I spent the rest of Sunday watching the first season of Banana Man with Reina before heading back to my room. Dinner was dropped up to me once again by Lexi.

Lloyd told me I wouldn't be required to attend class so of course I've spent today not being required. This is exactly what I want, no expectations, no obligations. As close to freedom as I'll find in this birdcage.

No one came for me though. That should be obvious of course, no one goes looking for someone else without good reason, right? She told me I didn't need to be there so me not being there isn't going to cause a stir. I know that— I should know that but I've lost count of how many times I've caught myself staring blankly at my door waiting for... something.

I think what I said before was a lie. I think so. This is what I thought I wanted yet I'm waiting around for the status quo. I'm not doing what I want because I have nothing I want to do. Right now my hobbies boil down to masturbation and perfecting the art of instant noodles. How could I not realize that? Have I no desires? That's not true, is it?

No, it's not. I do have desires, it's just that they require those expectations and obligations I claim to hate. I hate to admit that Lexi was right so I won't. I'm in denial, I'm allowed to be in denial aren't I? Should I care if I'm allowed to? Beholden to the rules of my own captive audience. Who's the real captive here?

At least I have curry flavour, I bet you don't. As for masturbation...

**knock knock**

"Oh thank god."

I'm so excited for anything approaching something to not do that I can't even act disingenuous about it. Pulling my pants up I rush to the door and fling it open.

"Kyahhh!"

It seems I've startled her.

"What was that?!” she shouts

"It was me opening a door."

"Who opens a door like that?"

"Me."

“Well don't do that."

"OK."

I slam the door in her face. Now I just have to resist opening it again or the bit won't land.

1....2..... oh god she better knock again or else I'm going to fu-

*knock knock* *fling*

"Kyahh! I told you not to do tha- don't you fucking dare."

She jams her foot against the door to stop me from closing it.

"What did I do wrong now?"

"You closed the door in my face!"

"But you said you didn't like how I opened it."

"I didn't like how you closed it either."

"Then what? Want me to just leave my door permanently ajar?"

"Upon further consideration, I think I just don't like you."

"There's no need to take it out on the door."

"Look you're not planning on coming to class tomorrow, are you?

“What makes you think that?”

“You didn’t come the last two days.”

“Two days? Since when are there classes on Sunday?”

“You know today is Tuesday, right?”

Today’s Tuesday??? Why did Reina spend all of yesterday watching TV then?

“Yeah it’s Tuesday, I know that.”

“Are you going to come to class any of the days?”

"Of course not. Never. Wouldn't dream of it. I'm very happy in my room by myself."

"Are you OK? Do you need a hug?"

She throws her arms out wide to indicate she’s open to actually hugging me.

"Never ask me that again."

"Sorry. Are you OK?"

"The other part."

"So you do want a hug?"

"Yes. I mean no. Yes."

"Tough luck I don't comfort the indecisive."

"Then why are you here?"

"You're not coming to class right?"

"Of course not. Never. Woul-"

"Then you're going to come with me tomorrow."

"Where? Actually, I mean why should I?"

"You don’t have anything better to do, right?"

"..."

When I think about what it was I was about to do, I can’t force myself to come up with an answer. Usually, when that’s the case, I substitute in the truth but for once I feel a bit uncomfortable with that idea.

Emma pounces on my hesitation.

"Great, I'll meet you outside the gates at 7 am. Bye bye~"

Without even giving me a chance to respond she closes the door on me. If there was ever a way to gently slam a door I think she just did such a thing.

She's telling me to go with her, that means I shouldn't right? Or does it? Is my issue with individuals who wield power or the power itself? She doesn't hold power at any rate, I could just ignore her request and nothing would come of it. Well, maybe another conversation about the etiquette of opening doors but that is of little consequence to the uninitiated.

But I think I want to go. It can't hurt to try something new. If I won't listen to authority then why should I listen to my instincts?

***

Whoever decided that days were to begin in the morning was a special kind of sociopath. I get that the morning is somewhat relative to when we wake up, it’s a state of mind more than it is a state of time. But we created the concept of measuring and noting increments of time, we didn't have to choose to make it so that our ‘day’ started before the sun decides it does. Why is it dark still? It's 7 am, the day is supposed to have begun. We could've made it so that the sun was up by now, we decided when 7 am was, we've had civilizational spanning amounts of time to rectify this but we haven't. Humanity was a failure long before the current day.

I am particularly upset by all of this because I never get up this early of my own accord. In ideal circumstances, I would’ve waited until I was bathed in sunlight before even considering moving a single muscle. I have been indulging in that preference at the expense of my education for a number of years. This morning though I have been woken, forcibly ousted from man's natural state of 7 am being, to help Emma with something. This something she apparently cannot do alone.

“You don’t have anything better to do, right?”

As you might’ve discovered recently, people being correct doesn’t make them any less annoying.

I’m pulled out of my sleep-deprived spiral by Emma who pulls around the corner in a small car and beckons me to get in. She's wearing a t-shirt and jeans, much less obviously feminine than her getup from yesterday. It's a strange look, short sleeves in the dark. I can never help but feel darkness is cold, regardless of what a thermometer might tell me.

I open the passenger side door and slump into the seat.

"Oooh so obedient! I thought I'd have to go get you from your room. Maybe, I thought, I’d see something I didn't want to see initially but then I find it sort of exhilarating in the moment and I'm just left there standing in your room wondering if I should even bother waking you or if I could maybe...."

"Just shut up and drive."

"Okay~"

Foglights light up the road as Emma hits the gas. The abandoned houses whizzing by look even more chilling when lit like this.

"So, where are you taking me anyway?"

"We're going shopping Abel... come on don't give me that look, it'll be fun!"

"You can't go shopping by yourself?"

"Is that a real question? Are you just trying to wind me up?"

“All questions are real questions. It's a matter of sincerity, not authenticity."

"So you are trying to wind me up."

"Well yeah, that's the fun of conversation isn't it?"

"No, that's just your warped view of things, normal people can engage in conversations normally."

"And you're normal people are you?"

"I'm the type of abnormal that can engage in weird conversations normally. You, on the other hand, turn normal conversations weird."

Emma is turning to look at me a concerning amount during this conversation. It must be some kind of tactic. If she’s already figured out I’m the type of person to notice such a thing, she probably thinks she can use it to control the conversation. She is sorely mistaken.

"So, what, someone starts talking to you about their weirdest thoughts and you just engage with them sincerely?"

"Yeah, of course."

"OK then, since you seem to love sincerity so much; I have this strange recurring dream where I strip a woman naked, hang her from my ceiling blindfolded and chuck tins of paint at her bare skin. I sit down and watch the paint start to slide down her body, creeping along her form as if invading her very being. Watching from below, I wait patiently for the colours to start blending together into something meaningful. They never do of course, they always just merge into this indescribable indigo, but I can never stop watching. There's something so thrilling about watching this woman struggle silently against her chains as the paint drips down her, splashing just in front of my feet. It's only a dream, I know that, but maybe I really want to do that to someone and I just haven't gotten the opportunity to. Is that dream part of me? Does it signal a repressed desire for control of some sort? Do you think it makes me a bad person?"

There we go, the face of someone left with nothing to say, the calling card of my small victory.

"Eh, um, a-"

"See? Fuck off with that bullshit. It's not that you engage with everything sincerely, you've just never heard weird before."

"Is that a sincere desire you have?"

"It might be."

A moment of silence hangs between us. Maybe I can get some sleep before the sun rises.

"Alright..."

The scenery of the emptiness lining the roads doesn’t seem to provide Emma enough entertainment because she decides to try and instigate conversation again.

"...since you seem to know what makes for a fun conversation, entertain me."

"How entertaining do you find the idea of fucking off?"

"Tried it before, yields minimal results with the likes of you."

"Have you given it a second chance?"

"Come on just give me something. This ride is usually a drag, the last guy was so dull."

"Last guy?"

"Oh? You want to know more about that?"

Shit, she caught me off guard. My response was too earnest to be played off now.

"Trade you a story for a story?"

"Why are you so intent on talking to me? We could take this drive in silence, in fact, it would be greatly preferable."

"Because I want to like you, Abel."

"Keep saying things like that and I might just fall for you."

“I’m your type?”

“You’re not allowed to be my type.”

"No one gets to control who you love."

"They try their best though. I'm sure you have some first-hand experience."

"Well that sounds like a story, tell me about the girl they matched you with."

"Not much to tell really. I never met her."

"It’s possible to not meet your match?"

"If you try hard enough, yeah. Lot of jumping out windows and hiding in places people don't expect will do the trick. Eventually, they stopped bothering and just let me stay in my room all weekend."

"So why didn't you go see her, was she ugly or something?"

"No, she was beautiful."

"Was she annoying?"

"We got on well in our correspondence, so no… Not compared to me at least."

"Are you gay?"

"Probably not."

"Well then why didn't you go to meet her? She's pretty, you get along with her and you're not gay, maybe. She sounds perfect."

"Well that's the thing, isn't it? She seemed perfect, almost like she was hand-picked for me as if I had no choice as to whether or not I'd like her. That thought scared me, I knew we'd be happy together, that's how it felt. Our ‘love’ would blossom into a fulfilling life. But in the gardens, when you see a flower in bloom do you think that the seed and soil were ‘meant to be’?"

"And you'd deny yourself a chance at happiness over something that insignificant?"

"The moment I had those thoughts, I think I ceased to be the person capable of loving her or being loved in return."

"I told you to entertain me not depress me."

"The story is neutral, you're just injecting emotion into it."

The sun starts beaking over the walls shattering any possibility of me getting some sleep here. I straighten myself up in my seat properly.

"Alright you got your story, now tell me about the last guy."

"Not much to tell really. He just decided he'd rather be in a real disciplinary school than with us."

"Something you did?"

"No, unless you count getting dressed as a purposeful slight against someone."

Ah, so it's like that. It's not too surprising I guess, as a male denizen of City 48 the worst thing you can conceivably be is gay. The government wants us to produce kids, being gay isn't exactly conducive to that. The queer kids at school were always treated poorly, there's a real fear amongst the populace that associating with them would somehow make you ‘one of them’. Irrational and childish, sure, but most people weren't willing to risk it when they thought their freedom was on the line. So it's sort of hard to imagine just how the average person would react to someone like Emma.

She decides again to fill the void in conversation instead of the alternative.

"So do you like the way I dress?"

"I don't remember putting fashion critic down on my CV."

"That's not important, I know I have good taste. The question is whether you do."

"It's not about that though, you just want a shallow compliment."

"No, I want a real compliment. Vanity and pride aren't quite the same thing, I just happen to have both."

"Fascinating."

"Come on, it's a simple question, what do you think of the way I dress?"

"You really want an answer? I don't care about the way you dress, Emma. There's your answer."

I try not to look her in the face because even though this is the truth it feels somehow insincere. But out of the corner of my eye, I think I see her trying to suppress a smile. The face of someone who heard something she didn't know she wanted to.