diary of a madman

When I awoke, I almost said, ‘another unfamiliar room’, but I recognized this one, because it was the inside of the shop. After I stopped smelling rain on myself, the rich, earthy aroma of coffee me close my eyes again.

“…hey.”

It hadn’t been a dream.

“Uh… kid? Hello?”

Fantastic.

A voice I recognized to be from a co-worker asked, “Did he wake up?” and then, “Are you friends with him?”

I wasn’t even being sarcastic. Denial helped me so much I ended up hugging a guy with a great body whilst riding a motorcycle.

“Nah,” said the redhead.

‘But we could be’.

As if. As if I’d ever be able to say that out loud. Besides, I wasn’t sure if I meant it. This delinquent-looking guy I assumed to be evil ended up getting caught in a storm with his friends just because he found somebody’s phone and wanted to give it back, only to then help that somebody again… which was why I thought it was a dream. People like that shouldn't exist.

Silence took over, then my co-worker killed it. “Hey, Kiryuuin, are you awake? Yeah, you’re awake. I can see you’re trying to keep your eyes closed.”

The nice (?) redhead noted, “He is."

Two people looking at my face like that finally killed my resolve. I sat up—tried to; a sharp ache knocked me back down. My co-worker—Ootsuki Rima, grade school student, more responsible than all the other staff combined—loomed above me. I lay on a couch at the break room. The redhead sat next to us, on a pliable chair. Since I didn’t have my glasses on, I couldn’t discern his expression. Not like I wanted to, since it’d be weird to stare. “You…” I trailed off. “The… did you… um.”

Now the ‘dream’ had come to an end, so had my ability to speak. “How do you feel?” Asked Ootsuki Rima. “Nod if good, shake your head if bad.” I nodded. “Oh, that’s good. I already called Mr. Clarence. He said you could take the day off if you do extra hours once you recover.” Of course he said that. “Will you go to the hospital?”

As I sat up, slowly this time, I noticed the redhead sipping on some coffee. He also had cake. He’d taken off his jacket. My story was a different one, however, which meant I’d have to clean the couch sooner than later. “I, um.” I cleared my throat. “No. I. I don’t. Think so.”

“Oh, really? That's fine. Then I guess it's nothing serious."

"Yeah."

“Yeah. Now, if you'll excuse me, I have to go to the counter before Mr. Clarence shows up. Is that okay?"

I nodded.

“Nice. See you, then.”

I nod—

“Wait, NO—”

Too late. She left. I even extended my hand out to the direction the door was at. When I couldn’t wake up from this nightmare, I put it down, like I wanted to put myself down.

To say my heart pounded would be an understatement.

The room spun.

Unaware or uncaring of me hyperventilating, the redhead finished his cake. Good for him. Ootsuki Rima had probably given it to him as a token of gratitude. So long as I did extra time before the end of the month, the boss wouldn’t mind.

“So?” Asked the redhead. “How do you feel?”

I stared. I couldn’t help it. I literally could not look away. It’s like I’d stopped functioning altogether. Even with the warm colors on the wall and flowers on the porcelain dish he ate from, his presence still screamed violence. Everything about him. His eyes. His posture. It could also be my mind. Besides, it’d be immature and judgmental and petty of me to fear him after what he’d done before, what he did now, but also… what if…

“Sorry for that.”

“F-for what?” Oh, good, I finally talked. My voice broke, though. I cleared my throat as though that’d wash away the embarrassment.

“I forgot to tell you how to get off. It’s a little crooked to the side. Not sure if you noticed. You’re not the first to fall down from it.”

That helped, admittedly. No longer did I feel like an imbecile that couldn’t get off motorcycles correctly, just an imbecile that couldn’t speak.

“Will you go to the doctor?”

I shook my head.

“Oh, well. I'm glad it was nothing serious."

I nodded.

“Though you might get a cold.”

“You too.”

“Nah.”

He wasn’t reacting the way most people did when talking became a Herculean task for me. Usually, my tongue stopped working. I started to breathe faster, faster, which in turn weirded people out, which in turn caused more and more of my somatic nervous system to shut down in an attempt to prevent irreversible damage. Not the nice (?) redhead, though. He gave no fucks. He looked like he gave a lot of fucks, just not this k—

STOP.

“Your.” I cleared my throat. “What’s your. Um. Thanks.”

“…huh?”

“Name.”

“Oh. Natsume Youji. Yours?”

“K—”

“Wait, I think the kid from before mentioned it. Something with K… Ki… muro? No. Katsura? Kondo. Kangaroo.”

“K—”

“Kiryuuin!”

I nodded.

Natsume Youji grinned. I expected it to look Machiavellian, but no. It was kind of nice, actually, because I had some context for it. I’d still run away if I saw him like that on the street. “Natsume Youji,” I echoed, “that is a good name. It’s uh. Good. I expected your name to be Kentaro.”

“Huh? Why?”

“Because…” And THIS was what happened when I attempted conversation. The first thing that came to mind was, ‘I played a game with a guy named Youji once, but he laid eggs.’ I couldn’t just TELL him that. To avert the crisis, since I’d already opened my mouth, I let it go on autopilot. This tended to get better as I got to know the person better, which was to say… seldom..

“You look like a Youta to me,” he said, after I spent a socially unacceptable amount of time in silence. “Was I close?”

No. “Yes.”

“Nice, nice. Let me see. Kiryuuin Youta… no, that’s not it. Souta? Ryouta? Kouta?”

“Y-yes.”

“Yes to which?”

Why was he still here? Why was he talking to me? Why didn’t he give up and leave like a normal person? “To…” I gripped my hands together, looking around, yet nowhere. “…sorry, none. I’m. Isao.”

“Seriously? Oh, man, then I wasn’t even close.”

That made me feel guilty for literally no reason. “Was the coffee hot?” I asked, when I literally hadn’t even thought of saying that. It’d been more along the lines of, ‘Are you cold?’ or ‘Is the coffee good?’ since I’d been the one to blend it this time. But NO, of course I couldn’t even say that. Still, Natsume Youji nodded. At least I had a reason to be guilty now. Ugh, come on. Please. It wouldn’t bother me if he hadn’t been so… all this while, so… “I meant, was it good? Because I blended it. The. The coffee.”

Natsume Youji eyed the empty cup, then shrugged. “Probably. Sorry, I can’t really tell that sort of thing.”

“Oh. Okay.” FUCK. “Thank you for the coffee.”

“You’re welcome.”

“Wait, no, no, I meant the ride. Thank you for riding me.”

Silence.

“I… didn’t mean… the… I… aaaAAaaa goodbye thank you I need to pee.”

I crashed against the doorframe on my way out, which caused him to stand up, alarmed, but before he did anything, I fled. It hurt all the way to the bathroom. It was empty. The bathroom, I mean, not just my head. I washed my face until I didn’t feel it anymore. Nightmare. This was a nightmare. This was… okay, fine, it wasn’t. It wasn’t that deep. It wasn’t deep at all. I just drowned in puddles all the time.