two wrongs make a right

Natsume Youji spent the rest of the day at the kitchen. During lunch, he left to smoke, which I knew because I could smell it when he came back. We held eye contact for a moment as he headed back to the kitchen and I stood at the counter. Where the usual me would've withered away, the me who wanted to earn his trust so I could save him from cannibals smiled. He returned the gesture, because this was Natsume Youji we were talking about. But then he fled. But it was something. 

When my shift ended, two things happened: I went to sit at the break room, and Natsume Youji walked in to say, "I forgot I'm staying late today again. I'm sorry."

"It's fine," I said. "I'll be studying until then if that's okay."

"...I guess." He left after that. I'd kind of hoped he wouldn't be mad anymore since he smiled before, but that didn't seem to be the case. It was okay, though. I'd just have to clear things up and not only admit that I'd been lying about Tanaka, but that I'd been faking responses so he'd like me too. I wouldn't tell him the cannibal part because often people with terrible friends didn't know they had terrible friends at the beginning and then once they had no option but to face the truth they got defensive and an actually angry Natsume Youji sounded terrifying and my plan would fail because I'd kill myself out of fear. 

Instead of studying, I devised a plan. I didn't interact with the bots again. They wouldn't help. They'd seldom helped so far. I also kept getting banned for no reason. Instead, I looked for help on the internet.

How to get someone to stop hating you.

How to be likeable.

How to earn someone's trust.

How to get your crush to like you.

Not even the internet was reliable; I'd begun to get off-topic by the fourth article. It had nothing to do with me. It sounded like something a middle schooler would read. 

Step 1: Show yourself as available.

Well, he knew I was single.

Step 2: Make subtle ge

I shouldn't be reading this. There was literally no reason for me to do so. None. I put down my phone. Back to the books, like a good student. I wished I was a plant.

Like a plant, I stopped thinking until Youji walked back in. Because he was mad, half his body stayed out the door. "Isao," he called out. "We're closing."

"O-okay."

I wished I was a plant because plants didn't stutter. After he left, I put my textbooks away. I helped clean a bit even though I didn't have to. This was it. I could do it. 

How I wished I could pretend this was a dream again...

The girl that always got my name wrong had left, as had Mr. Clarence; only Natsume Youji and I remained. He closed the shop after I left. I asked, "Did you smoke again?"

"Huh? Again?"

"Yeah. You did that during lunch. It's not good."

"Oh. Right..." he trailed off. Natsume Youji still faced the shop. I stood behind him, far away enough to start running in case I committed a(nother) terrible faux pas, close enough to... something... if needed. Something manly and straight like a handshake. "...sorry. I know. I just do it a lot when I'm nervous."

I didn't know how to reply to that. The obvious thing (maybe) was to inquire 'is something wrong?' but I got mad when he asked that last time so obviously I'd be a hypocrite if I did so, even though I was relatively certain I'd done that before already. I couldn't change the topic, either, because it'd be weird and it'd feel as though I didn't care about his feelings. Oh! That was it. "Why are you nervous?"

"So, uh." Natsume Youji still faced the shop. So I looked at his back instead of his face. This was good for both of us. Besides, it was a nice back. I wanted to poke it, but I could not, and I would not, obviously. He continued: "About what you said earlier... um. You. Uh. I."

The silence between words was sharp. Aside from the dim lights above, specks of gold at the distance, a stray car rushing by here and there, and Youji, the world looked and sounded dark blue. 

Nothing. 

He wasn't talking. 

He was mad.

"Yeah," I mumbled. "I made Tanaka up. I'm sorry. I didn't mean to, um, deceive you or anything. Please don't be mad?"

Natsume Youji almost turned to face me. Almost. "I'm—not? I'm not. It's not that, Isao, just..."

"Just...?"

Then he faced me. He didn't see me, though. I wish I could take a proper look at his face among the darkness, though it's not like it'd help me much, since I was an imbecile. He opened his mouth, then closed it, then shook his head. 

Was this how people felt like when speaking to me?

Why was he nervous? I should've asked what was wrong. Fuck. It didn't seem wise to ask anymore. "That's okay," I said, even though I didn't know what that was. "Don't worry. Is, uh. Is there anyone—I mean anything I can do to help you feel better?"

Then he saw me. "Help me feel better?" He asked.

I nodded. Doing what I wanted to helped me more than what those stupid articles said, so I'd just try to do that from now on. I shivered; it was chilly. Holding back the urge to rub my arms, I replied, "I think taking walks helps sometimes, so we could do that. Um. Or you. Sorry. Actually, never mind. It's late and we could die."

"I'll take you home, anyway."

"Wh—" I stopped. I had to. Stop. If that helped him feel better, so be it. Did this count as kidnapping? Probably not, since i was letting him—

"I meant yours."

"Ah."

He snorted. "Seriously? Get on the bike. Take the helmet."

"Okay." I didn't ask why I took the helmet instead of him because I supposed it was some sort of bike thing I didn't understand, and I didn't want to seem stupider than I already was to him. Still, it felt as though this had gone nowhere. Maybe he did that on purpose. Was he the kind of person to do such a thing, though? No, but...

I barely even knew him. How could I know?

As I held him on our way to my place, he stiffened, so—I had to stop with the bad word usage. So I loosened my grip. A lot. Because he felt tense.

"Here." He stopped in front of my apartment complex. I'd done my best not to cling to him again so he wouldn't feel uncomfortable, but fuck. My life flashed before my eyes at least a dozen times as this happened. I lived ten minutes away by foot. 

Still shaking—half from the cold, half from the near-death experience—I hopped off. When I handed him the helmet, he looked at me as though I'd just grown a third eye. "Isao, are you o—" He stopped. No, I wasn't. There went my answer. "...sorry, I have to ask: are you okay?"

"I. Yes."

"Ugh. No you're not. Come on."

He tried to take my arm, but I moved away, because my hands shook and I didn't want him to notice that. It was stupid. Now grounded, the idea of flying off the bike like a shuriken felt less a tangible fear and more like the usual overreaction.

I.

Had.

To.

Calm.

Down.

This was dumb. I was dumb. Might as well tell him so he'd stop looking at me that way. "I-I'm just scared because I thought I'd. Die. Because of the. Because I didn't. Um. Hold. Um. Go away."

Again, he reached out a hand. He didn't try to touch me this time, though. "Come on. I'll take you there."

"No. I said go away. Fuck. I hate being such a fucking coward. Go away. Go away."

He did—the hand that'd reached out to me. 

Step 1: Show yourself as available.

If I'd been alone, I would've kicked something. This was mortifying.

But.

"Um. Okay. Let's go."

But I had to keep pushing forward. For him. 

"Sorry," I mumbled.

Natsume Youji said nothing. He walked with me through the door leading to the complex, up the stairs to the third floor, down the hallway leading to my apartment near the middle. Seriously, how could I not want to help him? And to think he'd go back to his terrible friends after this, as a servant, possibly adding human livers to their soup without knowing...

"Hey. Would you. Would you like to come in?"