You saw my face

Today I learnt how passing out feels.

Okay, technically I’m only playing dead, but I’ve seen enough possums on the highway to know that the two are virtually the same. Point being, my consciousness is somewhere beyond the event horizon and all I know is that I’m cosmically shit-scared. But soon enough, the fear response vanishes. I open my eyes, one at a time, find myself on the receiving end of a leg kabedon, and my lizard brain takes over, drives my gaze down and the first thing out of my mouth is –

“Why are you still wearing –”

“They’re modesty shorts!” Hinata shrieks, reviving my hearing and replenishing my wits.

“So – this is you being a prude?”

“I – guess? I don’t know, shut up! God, you make it so hard to think straight…”

“Well, I have been called a confusing manchild in the past, so… sorry?”

“Why,” she groans under a giggle, “are you here, Luca?”

“You didn’t leave much of a choice.”

“No, I mean –”

“I know,” I assure her. “But I don’t think I’ll have anything helpful to say until you tell me – well, what’s going on?”

My offbeat seriousness makes her brows raise, then quickly furrow back down. She turns to the window, watching the dust bunnies hopping around in a narrow cone of spotlight by the window, her fists tightening by the second. But, to my relief, she doesn’t punch me. Slowly and very cautiously, she puts her leg down only to jab me in the chest with her slouching head.

“You saw my face,” she mumbles and it unsettles me how fragile she sounds, like she’s one breath away from caving in. Leaning against me she feels small, impossibly light and I’m suddenly aware of the warmth of her skin, the strawberries in her shampoo and how she can probably hear my hastening heartbeat. Running a hand through her hair right now feels almost natural, as is brushing it back behind her flushed ear.

But it’s really weird to think this is who Hinata is – or can be. Far from unpleasant, though.

“Well yeah and, erm,” I stammer. “What do you know? You’re actually not hideous.”

“Grr…”

“Is that a thank you?”

“It’s a warning,” she growls.

“Against compliments?”

“Against deflecting.”

She pushes away from me, now pelting me with a trembling stare. “The other day,” her voice wavers, “you said a lot of stuff, you know? Made some really big threats. And I’d be lying if I said I haven’t been thinking of that all morning.”

My chest tightens, just above where she rested. “Yeah… so?”

“So… I wanna know if you’re gonna turn me in now.”

Hinata hugs herself. Tightly, as if to not fall apart. It’s normal, I tell myself, because of course she’s worried about her safety. It’s only human, after all. But still, hearing her say that stings worse than a burning-hot catheter. And I don’t know if it’s because she thinks I’m nothing but an uptight vigilante with an ethics boner, or because, even if for a second, I forgot that part of her even existed.

“Are you free after school?” she continues, snapping me out from inside my head.

“I – no idea. Why?”

“I want you to talk to somebody.”

And once I remember Yui, there’s really no going back.

“Suuure. Talk,” I snide, rolling my eyes.

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

I don’t bother answering and start towards the door, only for her to grab my arm. It’s a gentle touch, but I’m too bitter to not shrug her off. A bit more violently than I should’ve.

“Luca –”

“No, just – don’t, okay?”

“What’s wrong?”

“I don’t know! But ‘I want you to talk to somebody’ feels like the first step to having my organs sold on the black market.”

She pauses, but I don’t really buy, nor care for her shock. “No, it’s –”

“Save it,” I sigh. “Break’s over soon, anyway. We should go back, unless you want people to start asking more questions.”

Hinata opens her mouth, but says nothing to counter me. Nothing left to say, anyway. “Okay,” she mewls, and we leave in total silence. Though we’re only walking now, the trip to the classroom is over in a second.

Classes pass like a low buzz, the breaks like a faded clangour. Daisuke tries to lure me out of my listless funk, chatting about anything from bodybuilding magazines to yaoi-coded vtubers. I nod along as I stare out the window, only glancing towards the blackboard at the sound of laughter. Hinata’s chuckling with some other girls, one of them cheering her up with some playful elbowing that leads into tickling, then into hugs that last a lifetime.

Whatever concerns she might’ve had are all but forgotten now. Yet, whenever I return to counting the blades of grass outside, I feel worried eyes watching me.

The bell rings for the last time and people charge out of the class with Hinata spearheading the movement. I stretch myself, shaking the ennui out of my limbs, then languidly head towards the shoe racks. By the time I get downstairs, everyone’s filed out into the courtyard and the corridor is empty. I open my locker and slide on my trainers, only to hear another locker closing on the other side. Footsteps round the bend and I look up out of reflex, only to see Hinata about to walk out the door.

“Hey,” I say without thinking.

She stops and turns around, gives me a lopsided smile. “Hey,” she replies with a long, expectant gaze that swivels left, then right, before dropping to her toes with the same question she had before.

And I still don’t have an answer. I don’t know if I’m gonna report her and I don’t know why I don’t know, especially when my father has made my moral code into a simple flowchart. Then again, he’s also the reason why I’m emotionally starved enough to consider her request from earlier, despite how dangerous it all seems.

And so, all I can tell Hinata is, “Sorry.” Even though I’m not sure why I’m apologising. Is it because I’m going to do what’s right, even if it feels off? Because I haven’t given her the benefit of the doubt, though her circumstances didn’t warrant it? Or because I’m unable to reconcile these two conflicting ideals and she’s the one who has to bear the burden of my indecision?

Her smile deepens as it sours. She takes a deep breath, shrugs her shoulders, then turns around. I watch her padding away, every unsteady step she takes making me feel like the growing gap between us will never close again. That she, like everyone and everything else, is going to melt away into yet another grey, quotidian blur.

And I just can’t let that happen. Not like this. Not after the last 24 hours have been the most exciting time of my life. Besides, father had a good saying for moments like these:

When in doubt, gather more intel.

Now I understand there are normal, healthier ways to do that – ways that don’t involve following a girl around until she inevitably meets up with the guy she wanted to shank you. But in my defence, if I were well-adjusted I wouldn’t be having this issue in the first place now, would I? Nor the skillset to address it because, let me tell you, tailing her is not easy.

She keeps to big streets with thin crowds, making it near-impossible to hide in plain sight whenever she turns around. Which happens extremely often, since I can’t maintain a safe distance with how slow she walks – or strolls, I suppose. And when you pair that with her tendency to turn on a dime – breaking the line of sight and forcing me to catch up – it gets exhausting really quick. But I can’t say I regret it.

Because I’d be missing a lot if I weren’t here. I’d miss her little excited shuffle as she watches her ice cream cone being prepared and the cute ‘eep’ she makes when a little bit drips on her hand – and her skirt. I’d miss the gleam in her eyes as she admires a chic shoulderless top in a small boutique, then her pout as she notices the price tag has five digits. And I’d miss the look on her face as she rifles through an untranslated Pratchett inside a modern bookstore, that intense focus that bleeds into a mousy snicker, catching me off guard.

That’s when she peeks in my direction, and catches my gaze for a second. I retreat into my aisle, pressing myself against a rack of 2D cleavage. There comes a ‘huh’, then footsteps follow soon after, heading away. I poke my head around the corner to see Hinata walking towards the exit, phone glued to her ear. Talking to her father, I guess by the surly voice on the other end.

Did she see me? I ask myself, only to fail to answer as I realise that she’s getting too far and if I don’t move now, I might lose her. Besides, even if she did, I can always make up some bullshit lie. The worst, the better – makes it easier to segue into an apology afterward.

I rush outside, catching her crossing a run-down bridge and I follow her to a ward that has definitely seen better days. Sad barks come through broken windows and graffiti smudges the walls, while loiterers smudge the streets. Curiously enough now, when she should be super cautious, Hinata stops looking around. Stops with the sudden turns too, until she veers off the sidewalk and onto a sketchy back alley, which can only mean one thing.

We’re here.

I stop by the corner, take a deep breath to steel myself, then go on after her. And oh boy, this sure ain’t a place you’d wanna share a postcode with. There’s stained cardboard and syringes everywhere and you can feel the scent of paint fumes and homelessness in your eyes. The only thing good about being here is that it’s a short and straight footpath, meaning that as soon as you enter, you can see all the way to the other end. Which makes it all the worse that Hinata is nowhere to be found.

My heart sinks. I check my phone. No signal, of course, not that I had anyone but my sister to call. Still, with the sun going down and the shadows growing longer and longer, this isn’t the place I’d want to be in for too long. Not when I know why I came here, not when I’ve been surprised and certainly not when I hear paper crinkling behind me.

I flinch and spin on my heels, but I’m too slow. By the time I raise my arms in defence, a needle pricks my neck. Numbness enters my bloodstream. Horse sedatives, going by the speed with which it spreads.

Taking a step back, I admire the man who successfully Dexter’d me. He’s not a vagrant, far from it even. A salt-and-pepper side-fade leads into an elegant ponytail which, paired with his grey trousers and matching vest, lend him a distinguished, yet fierce air. One only matched by his low and sombre voice.

“He’s going to fall,” he announces with professional cynicism. As if on cue, my legs immediately give way, sending me stumbling backwards. But just before my head hits the ground, I catch the muffled pitter-patter of footsteps. And, when instead of a piece of rebar or a pool of dog vomit, I land on a soft, doughy pillow, I realise that he wasn’t talking to himself.

“Then why the hell didn’t you catch him?” Hinata shouts.

“Figured you’d want to do it.”

She groans and argues something back, but all I hear is an addled jumble. I look up, Hinata’s face dissolving into a flushed mist that darkens slowly as it gets nearer. Faintly, I feel a tingle, plush caresses wiping sweat off my forehead, combing curls over my eyes. And that only helps me further drown into the cold, shapeless sludge of anaesthesia.

“I’m sorry too,” Hinata whispers ethereally, her lips almost pressed against my ear. “But you left me no choice.”