19th nervous breakdown

By the time I said the words, I'd already accepted the rejection. Youji stopped rubbing my back. He shifted his—our—weight, so I had to lean against him a little bit more. I couldn't say I minded. Well, I could, but I'd be lying.

Even if he didn't outright say 'ew', sometimes silence said plenty. It was okay, though. So long as we'd cleared that mess up, I'd still be able to talk to him and make him laugh against my will, but not against me, for a change. I'd just die alone and—

Wait, no. It didn't have to be that way. I was just being dramatic for no reason again. It's not like I'd never be able to interact with him again or anything. 

SO stupid. Shut up. 

I could just be dreaming again. 

"So—"

"No," I said. 

"I—"

"No."

"J—"

"Thirty seconds. Give me that. Then I'll. Yeah. Forty-five. Then I'm good."

Less than thirty seconds later—and I could say this because I counted—he pressed my face against his shoulder. I couldn't speak, obviously, yet he said, "Just—listen. Listen," so maybe he thought he wasn't causing extreme oxygen deprivation for multiple reasons. "I'm... also interested in you, let's say, but—" 

I guessed he didn't expect me to push that much, because not only did I break free, but also bounced off the sofa. I slapped his hand when he tried to reach out for me. Fuckkk. That 'but'. Always that but. I hated it. Not as much as my overreactions, though. 

My glasses must've fallen off as I held Youji hostage on the sofa, but where? We'd figure it out once something crunched under somebody's weight. Not that I was indebted already or anything. Time to—

NOT—

—run away. Not. Bad. Not even when Youji looked at me like that. It was actually kind of better when he lost his patience because then he forgot to pretend. "Don't bother," I said. "I know. It's fine."

"Would it kill you to listen for once?"

Yes.

"Why is it always the worst case scenario for you?"

"B-because..." shitshitshitheraisedhisvoiceI'lldieI'mabouttodie

"Because what?"

"Because... I don't know I wish I knew I don't know let's just forget about it I don't know I don't know please stop screaming please I don't know I'm sorry just forget it happened please."

"I'm not—" He ran a hand down his face. 

"I'm. I have to. Knit a sweater. It's urgent."

"Go knit your fucking sweater."

Okay, okay.

Deep breaths.

In, out. 

I found my glasses, plopped next to the coffee table. Upon putting them back on, I began to toy with the rim, then stopped, because this wasn't the time for that. 

Fine.

Okay.

This was my fault.

I could acknowledge that. 

Most things were my fault.

I'd been through this plenty... dozens... hundreds...? Of times, and the result had literally always been the same. Since I didn't want to break my glasses, I scratched at the skin between my pointer finger and thumb again. I'd just hide it once it drew blood. "Stop that," he said.

I did.

He said nothing else. So. My turn. Something told me that apologizing would only make this worse. They often called that something 'experience'. "I'm fine with just watching. From afar. I said I like you because, I mean... it's true... probably. But it doesn't matter. Just forget about it."

"If you say so."

"D—" Shh. No. The answer was probably yes now. 

"I don't hate you, no."

"You're lying."

"I'm not."

"Why? Are you stupid?"

"Yeah. Do you want me to hate you or something?"

"Please."

"I mean, sure." He shrugged.

Now he just looked sad. Maybe. It's not like I could see him well from the corners of my eyes because the rims of my glasses got in the way so I'd have to turn around and he'd notice and then I'd fall apart like gelatin during an earthquake. "I'm like poison," I explained. "Not the... maybe not that kind of poison. Or any. I think carbon monoxide is a better comparison. Yeah. But I'm sentient, so that's the difference. That's why I think that I should leave the windows and windows, um, doors open so everyone can go away. It's not nice to suffocate. And unlike carbon monoxide I'm self-aware, I think, and I'm not evil so that's why I'm telling you this. I'm not good with lying so that's why I said what I said, just in case you hadn't noticed. But that's it. It doesn't matter. I don't..."

I didn't have to grow a third eye to know that he was looking at me. "And you think everyone else is perfect?" He asked. 

"Well. No. But."

"But what? Can you honestly say you're so bad compared to everyone else that driving people away from you is an act of service?"

"Yes. Maybe not, uh, serial killers and stuff. But most peo—oh, no."

Youji lowered himself to my level again. To the floor. He sat next to me on the floor. Unreal. Now I really believed him when he said he was stupid. "If it helps," he stupidly replied, "I'm pretty bad myself. You just don't know about it yet."

"...uh, no you're not?"

"And how would you know?"

"Because. Because. Okay. Name one thing."

"Sure. I can name three, actually. One, stabbing. Two, assault. Three, juvie. Do you need more?"

He smiled again, but it didn't reach his eyes. 

The last time I felt like this was when I first saw him, when I thought he held my (former) phone hostage, instead of him staying there just so he could give it back to me. 

Youji stood up. "I need to smoke," he informed before heading for the door. 

I scrambled up, too. Like my brain, kind of. "Wait! Wait. Are you leaving?"

Youji stopped, then looked at me from the corners of his eyes. He shrugged. 

"It's late."

"Doesn't matter."

"Yes it does? It's dangerous. Um. I'll go with you. To smoke."

There it was, that expression. 'Oh well' instead of 'well then'. Big difference. 

He went. I followed. Neither of us said anything for some time. It was late—probably past midnight. For some reason, the world seemed and smelled and sounded less dark blue than before. There wasn't even a moon or anything. Youji took out a half-empty pack from some compartment on his bike. He began, "You haven't...?" Then trailed off when I shook my head. "Yeah, thought so. It's a terrible habit and really hard to get rid of. I'm just gonna say that."

"That's fine."

We both leaned against a wall next to the bike. It was okay because the house it lead to was empty. Maybe he'd known that somehow. With his delinquent senses. Instead of giving me one, Youji passed his to me once he... smoked...? From it. I'd seen and read about people coughing the first time they did this, so I was determined not to. Maybe he'd see how much of a being of evil I was as well. 

I almost puked when I inhaled it—almost. Didn't cough, didn't even grimace. "Wow," said Youji, and I agreed. 

I gave the cigarette back to him. "Horrible," was all I said.

"See?" Then he... oh, right, that's how you called it: taking a drag. He did that. 

I'd be so sleepy tomorrow. "If you hate it so much, why did you start doing it?" I asked. 

"My friends at the time did it. Also, it's not like I hate it."

"Oh, okay. That's good. Well, no, but yes. Do they still do it?"

"I don't know. Probably? It was a long time ago. The ones I'm still talking to either never did it or quit."

"How long ago?"

"I was fourteen when I started."

Hearing that would've shocked me had the urge to ask the following not been overwhelming: "Was that when you stabbed someone?"

Once he finished, Youji put the empty...? Cigarette in his pocket instead of throwing it on the ground, because he was a good citizen. Now. He also looked at me as though I'd grown a third eye. "Close?"

"Did the person die?"

"No."

"Oh. Okay."

He kept staring at me like that. 

"What?" I asked.

Youji shook his head, looking away. 

"Though I guess it makes sense or else you'd be in prison. Was it Jun?"

"What."

"I'm just asking."

"How—what."

"So yes?"

He covered his mouth with the back of his fist, but it didn't work, because Youji burst out laughing anyway. He had to use the wall for support. Maybe madness was infectious and I'd just contaminated him. "I..." he trailed off. He couldn't speak. He broke. So did I. What a pretty laugh. I could listen to it all day. 

It seemed unlikely that the answer was yes because they were friends and stuff, and not boyfriends, but I supposed it wasn't impossible that they'd made up after that. Sometimes that happened. 

"No," he said, once he calmed down. "Not Jun. But close."

"Jun's mom?"

"Please don't."

"Okay. I give up. What else do you want to talk about?"

"Seriously?" He asked. 

"Or. Um. Or not."

"You're not scared?"

I'd seen this question coming, so I'd prepared my answer, for a change: "About that... I think I could be projecting, so you're free to. Disregard. Anyway, I think you wanted me to get scared, so you can... feed? The... your... it's hard to describe. But I don't think you'd do that anymore, and it's not fair to judge anyone based on what they did when they were fourteen. I think. Unless you did it recently?"

"No, I didn't."

"Yeah. Exactly. So when I was fourteen, I thought aliens were watching me to see if humanity should be saved or destroyed based on my behavior, and that they could read minds, so I kept thinking and doing things I thought the aliens would like. But. They would've probably destroyed us if that had been true."

It was easy to make Youji smile, which was why I could say things like that to him. "At least you didn't almost kill someone," he replied.

"I could've destroyed the world, though. If it had been true."

"Makes perfect sense."

"So don't worry about what you did when you were fourteen. Unless you killed someone. But you didn't. Just almost." ...yeah, and this was why I didn't try to cheer people up anymore. "I-it's getting late. Let's go back. Please."

On our way upstairs, Youji placed his hand on my back. It was soft, and it didn't last for long, but it made me stop anyway. The way he smiled at me was different, too. I couldn't do or say anything in return.

Once inside, he tossed the empty...? Cigarette on the trash can because he was a good citizen, just like he worked at a shitty coffee shop instead of stabbing more people because he was a good citizen, or how he felt bad about it now, as good citizens would do. Probably not back then, though. After I locked the door, I said, "The water at the tub is cold, probably, but you can use the shower. If you want. You stole one of my spare toothbrushes last time, but I forgot to throw it away, so it's still there if you want to. Um. So were you fourteen?"

He currently inspected a Venus flytrap I'd left at the sink. With a toothpick, he poked it. "Fifteen, he replied."

"Oh. Makes sense."

"It does?"

"Yeah. I have to study so I'll be in my room so you can sleep here. I'd tell you that you can sleep on my bed but I know you'll say no so that's why I'm telling you this. And..." I trailed off. I wanted to say something nice, but I couldn't come up with anything. "...and... good night." 

"Good night."

I fled to my room after that. Youji used the shower, which I knew not because I had superhuman hearing or anything, but because it made a pretty loud sound before turning on. That happened sometimes. After I failed to concentrate, I played a game that'd bored me before, but it didn't lull me to sleep. Nothing would. By the time I feared the sun would show up, silently, I tiptoed back to the living room. 

My heart almost sank when I found the light was turned off, but then I caught some movement at the sofa. Maybe. I crept closer, closer; there he was. How disturbing of me. It was okay, though. It's not like I could creepily stare at his sleeping face because it was dark. I sat in front of the touch with the stealth of a flatbed truck, but he didn't seem to wake up, so I stayed there. 

I stayed there, until I didn't anymore. 

This was one of the four times a week when I didn't have a nightmare.