paranoid

In my defense, I didn’t realize Natsume Youji was zozzled until it was too late. Almost. I guess I should’ve done so earlier because he drank more than double what I did. It's just that delinquents so often seemed to… be…? I’d just kind of assumed he’d be fine. When he talked about his failed attempts to get a job and I calmly explained that he looked like he could kill a man, I didn’t expect him to start crying. Seriously. It’s no exaggeration to say that I forgot how to breathe from the shock. Fortunately, my autonomous nervous system remembered before I died. Or it would’ve ended badly for both of us.

So yeah. It was my fault. Minutes before that happened, I told him that the dyed hair could have something to do with it, but then he pointed out mine was the same—silver, though, not orangey red. I didn’t tell him it was meant to be blue but I gave up halfway through because I’d probably stop breathing again. Besides, it’s not like blue looked less delinquent-y than red. Natsume Youji explained that he took off the piercings when job-hunting until someone told him that he had vampire teeth, so it didn't matter anyway... somehow. I couldn’t unsee this once he mentioned it. It’s like someone had designed him as a mook for a martial arts manga. I told him this, and he agreed, then started to cry. See? My fault.

“So, um. About the boss…”

I couldn’t stop thinking about it now. About him. Natsume Youji rested his head on his arms on my table. He probably had a hangover, but I didn’t offer any painkillers because I didn’t have any, because I was afraid that if I had them then I’d take them all at once and drown in my own vomit.

“So.”

I couldn’t. Stop. Thinking. About it.

“I think that… he’s… I think he’ll say yes because we could use more staff. At night. That’s what he told us last week. So I think he’ll say yes.”

I usually ran away when somebody close to me cried because I started to cry, too, on the inside, because back when I used to try to cheer people up, it never worked. Last night had almost been a shining example. It’s just that I’d never seen a grown man cry before. Not like that. Usually adults tried to hide it until they couldn’t. I guess I should’ve figured out… fine, accepted that he was drunk then, but then it would’ve scared me into doing something cruel like telling him to leave. Instead, I sat next to him. We didn’t say anything for a long time. Then, not now.

“I trust you,” was Natsume Youji’s response. Now, not then.

“Yeah. Okay. Okay.”

Okay.

I last saw my mom cry years ago. It wasn’t anything that bad in the grand scheme of things—she lost a job she’d later return to—but dad wasn’t around. Nobody else was. I couldn’t run. Besides, why would I? The worst she’d done to me was birth me. Wait, no, that sounded bad. It’s not like it was her fault I existed the way I did.

I sat next to Natsume Youji again. Things ended with me kissing him yesterday, but we’d both been kind under the alcohol spell, so that probably wouldn’t happen today. Honestly, I wouldn’t made minded if it went on. I wasn’t that drunk. It’s just that he was. So it would've been very bad to continue.

“If you only have delinquent clothes, you can borrow more of mine for the interview,” I told him. It wasn’t a joke, but it made him laugh for some reason.

“Sure.”

I couldn’t cheer people up. I couldn’t. When I tried to, I started to think about how I bad I was at it instead of the person, like the selfish piece of shit I was, too useless to tell someone that it was okay to exist as they did. Was I projecting? Maybe that’s why I randomly kissed Natsume Youji when he asked to cuddle. Wait, no, it’s not like I wanted to kiss myself or anything. That sounded even worse.

Why had I kissed him, anyway? I mean, sure, I’d stopped things before they escalated, but… well. Was I a criminal? I’d hate it if someone did that to me. Maybe that’s why he laughed. Because he hated me yet I’d ignorantly offered to help and the things he’d drawn on the omurice had been some kind of subliminal message that—

“Isao?”

“No. No. Sorry. I’m. No.”

“Are you okay?”

“Yes.”

Natsume Youji sat up, properly. He grimaced a bit. I think he tried to hide it. “What’s wrong?” He asked, even though I’d literally just lied.

Usually I tended to accept that most people hated me, but it stung to add Natsume Youji into the pile. It shouldn’t, though. He probably acted this way to everyone else. If he was the sort of guy to give back a lost phone or cook meals to strangers, to be this patient to someone so clearly unhinged, then he  probably did these things often, to people who didn't melt at the first trace of warmth. “Sorry for yesterday,” I said.

“Oh, that. Like I said, it’s—”

“It’s not. It’s not fine. I’m really sorry.”

Natsume Youji looked away after that, which meant that he hated me. He took his time to reply. Since I’d never talk to him again and yesterday would be the first and last time I’d ever kiss someone, I stared at him from the corners of my eyes. My glasses kind of hid it anyway. I’d get him the job, then quit. It was the least I could do. I could always get a job elsewhere, even if it wasn’t as convenient a place. “So, Isao,” he began (in that one tone I recognized so well, because it almost certainly trailed behind a ‘you’re a nice guy, but…’). “I uh. Please don’t get mad.”

“I won’t.”

“So… I don’t remember what happened yesterday.”

“Don’t worry about the job, I’ll—what.”

“I’m sorry.”

“You…” I could feel my organs shutting down. “You don’t?”

Natsume Youji shook his head.

“So. Um. The. I. The. Okay. I understand. So. Um. Nothing?”

“The last thing I remember is… having dinner? It’s all blurry after that. Again, I’m sorry. I don’t usually drink that much. I’m not sure what happened. Also, you don’t need to apologize for any—Isao?”

he didn’t remember shit for fuck’s sake I almost got deflowered by a man too drunk to remember he’d just been about to

“I’m fine,” I said.

so then I could’ve just shut up about it and avoided this whole thing and he wouldn’t hate me but then it’d all be a lie and probably a felony of some kind so

“Well, you did say it was your first…”

“…so? Who the fuck cares about a first kiss these days? It sounds so pathetic. You make it sound so pathetic. Nobody cares. Nobody. What are you, twenty-five? I’m twenty-one. It’s stupid to even think about. Stupid. Just forget about it. Just… we…. we should get ready.”

“Okay.”

“Okay.”

“Twenty-seven.”

“Whatever.”

“If it helps, I’ve only been with two people, and one of them told me he only went out with me because he knew I wouldn’t be able to cheat on him with anyone.”

I blinked. “She said that to you?”

“To his... her friends. Point is—”

“You broke up with her after that, right?”

“Well—”

“What am I saying. Of course you didn’t. That’s even weirder. You’re ever weirder than me.”

“Hey—”

“Of course you wouldn’t get mad about. Other things. But you wouldn’t do it again either, right? With, um. Me. So let’s just say it doesn’t count. Do you hate me?”

“No,” said Natsume Youji.

“I trust you.”

“Much appreciated. I mean… I wouldn’t mind doing it again.”

“Doing what again.”

He was starting to get frustrated. Maybe. Sometimes people just wanted to say hi and I thought they wanted to murder me. Pretty sure that was frustration, though. Understandable. It’d be nice if he didn’t wear his emotions on his sleeves like that. It’s like he tried to hide it but he couldn’t. If this went on, he’d hate me, so I left the living room after that. Just like that. If he had come to the room after that and we’d started to passionately kiss again, I wouldn’t have minded. It didn’t happen, though, so I got him something to wear instead.

When I went back to the living room, all I found was a note saying, I have non delinquent clothes :) I’ll be there soon