XI. happy thoughts

Literally everything hurt by the time I got home, right before the horizon bled. Nobody else seemed to have arrived yet, so I could kick the door open in peace. One could surmise I was still in a poor mood.

I'd read somewhere that you could change your personality, but not your character. Thus, if you were the sort of person to beat people up until they lost consciousness with whatever you had closest because they'd provoked you, then there could only be so much you could do about your lifelong goal to stop feeling anger altogether.

After leaving a note saying I'm not cooking dinner. Die and placing it on the table, I went to take a bath. It didn't hurt any less, but it helped to keep my head under the water until I almost drowned a few times.

Before I managed to ditch the therapy they imposed after the chair-kun incident, the woman there... something with S... said that it helped to think happy thoughts when you weren't happy. I used to pity those who willingly wasted money to hear inane observations of the sort, but with time, I'd come to the conclusion that therapy existed so you'd pay to get told obvious things you just hadn't thought of. 

Thus:

Happy thought #1: Soccer. I hadn't played it in a while. The videogame. I bought its newest iteration every year even though it always seemed to be the same.

Happy thought #2: Curry. I wished I could make it more often, but Kaguya kept bitching about it being too spicy.

Happy thought #3: Hot baths?

Happy thought #4: Scalding, even.

Happy thought #5: I was soup.

Happy thought #6: Wait, how were these happy thoughts?

Happy thought #7: Let's see... family... friends...

Happy thought #8: Speaking of family, they probably hadn't made or even ordered anything to eat. Kaguya would probably eat her disgusting-looking instant ramen and pass out at school again so some asshole teacher like P-chan would tell my dad that she needed a mother figure and he'd start whining to me which was literally the only thing worse than the later co-worker drama while—

Happy thought #9: Or they could finally learn how to order takeout.

Happy thought #10:

This wasn't helping and my stomach felt like it wanted to turn into a lion. Still, I didn't feel like moving. I wished I'd brought my phone or something.

Happy thought #10:

...right, Kenji wanted me to help him out with Hanamura. If everything went according to plan, I'd meet her tomorrow, reenact the toast scene, then find Kenji hiding somewhere amidst the scenery. The rest would be history.

As for me, I had to yet open the book—the goblin one—whose ending I knew already. I'd read it, though. Eventually.

Happy thought #10: $%&@!

Somebody knocked on the door. "Nii-san? You've been there for over an hour."

I didn't reply.

Kaguya opened the door because she didn't give a fuck. "Oh," she said, "You're not dead."

"Can't you just order pizza or something?"

"Uh, no. Did you know that hypertension—"

"The stuff you eat because of your 'diet' is also full of salt. Just saying."

She still didn't close the door. I knew this was her unsubtly pressuring me into getting out so I could be her servant, but still. Kaguya also had the family curse—droopy, sad-looking eyes—which she attempted to hide by using a side fringe with dubious levels of success. "I saw the dent at the door," she said.

"...huh?"

"Yeah. Don't play dumb."

I wasn't. I didn't even know I was physically strong to leave a dent in a napkin anymore, let alone a door. "...well... you know... sometimes having a shitty oven can drive someone mad... so then the best solution is to ask a wealthy boyfriend for—"

She left.

After I, too, left the bathroom an undetermined amount of time later, I found dad toppled over the dinner table as though someone had tossed him there. I groaned. "You guys are so dramatic."

"...finally... my boy... my son..."

"...your cook..."

"...cook... ing? Does that mean it's finally time for dinner?"

"Why didn't you just order pizza and, I don't know, salad for Kaguya?"

"...pizza... bad... saturated fat..."

"Ugh. Not you too."

"Fffffhhh..." Dad trailed off, if one could even call it that. "Fine. But then you can't say that I don't help out in the kitchen anymore."

As I looked for the greasiest, saltiest pizza I could find, I noticed that my note had been ripped in half and tossed to the ground. So I ordered another one.

***

In lieu of toast, I took pizza with me the next day. Hopefully Hanamura wouldn't mind (and if she did... too bad for her, I supposed). Hopefully it wouldn't rain; the clouds looked as though they'd piss themselves at any moment. 

I took the same path as usual towards the same destination as always, for a slightly different reason. It'd been drizzling all night, so dew clung to the leaves surrounding a dark gray, slippery sidewalk. Needless to say, I sure would not be throwing myself to the floor like she had.

It took three songs and a half to spot Hanamura—a speck of yellow at the distance, like spilled mustard on uncooked fish. I listened to music loud enough that a jet could land next to me and I wouldn't notice, so when she spotted me back, then said something, I couldn't even discern a $%#@. 

I silenced my phone, then put my earphones away. "Hello, stalker-chan," I greeted.

Stalker-chan was not pleased. "You promised."

"If you're talking about the toast thing: one, I didn't promise anything. Two, I don't want to get my clothes dirty. Three, I brought pizza, anyway, not a toast."

Hanamura's expression didn't change. "Soo... you still brought something."

"I guess."

"Which means you were gonna do it. Ha! I knew it!"

I wasn't able to hide the grimace in time, so yes, she knew it. Oh, well. "Unfortunately for both of us, the floor is wet, so. By the way, did you bring my um—" Hanamura stabbed the air with my (yellow, poemless) umbrella. "—nice. Thank you. You can keep it for now, if you want."

She then took out a second, red one, so now we were mustard and ketchup spills on uncooked fish. The handed the latter to me. "So..." I glanced at it, then at her. "Uh, do I just... take it? Or..."

"You seem like more of a red than a yellow person to me."

I didn't even know what she meant yet I agreed for some reason, so I took it. "Thanks," I said. "No one had ever said something that nice to me before."

"You're welcome."

"That was sarcasm."

"Hm."

We began to walk. Until further notice, the leftover pizza would stay wrapped within the confines of my backpack. Perhaps I'd give it to Kenji or something. Speaking of which... "By the way, the same guy from yesterday wants to tag along today. He said you have a pin on your backpack from one of the shows he likes."

Hanamura leaned forward, I supposed, so she'd get a better look at me. Instinctively, I blocked her view with a hand. "Which one?" She asked.

"How am I supposed to know?"

"If it's the cannibal one then I don't want to talk to him."

"Why do you have a cannibalism pin on your backpack in the first place..."

"Is that weird?" She asked.

"No. Super normal."

"I don't mean the pin, I meant the..." she trailed off. Hanamura gestured something I didn't care to understand, or maybe she petted an invisible llama. "...the... never mind."

Kenji should've stood a couple blocks away. I couldn't see him, though. As discreetly as I could, I took out my phone, then texted: Where the fuck are you? 

"I meant the yellow and red thing. I don't know. Sometimes I say stupid things but don't realize they're stupid until later."

No response.

"Um. I'm sorry."

"Wait, I'm trying to get in contact with Kenji. With the guy I just told you about. He's online, so he should—there."

Kenji's response: im sick

My response to his response: Liar. Coward. 

Kenji's response to my response to his response: women scare me. bye.

"Never mind," I said. "Women scare him. He's not coming."

"Ah. Same."

I had to start getting used to responses like these.