battle of one

Back when I used to try having friends, one of the girls at the cafeteria table had a phase with some pesudoscience nonsense book about love and its languages. Weird, because she never really tried to have boyfriends or anything. Or girlfriends. She'd speak so much about it that I memorized it at some point; never would I have expected it to turn useful.

I'd told him something nice, held his hand, given him an extremely valuable gift, protected him from the pack of evil schoolgirls... what about quality time? I usually ruined it. In fact, I couldn't think of a single time in which we'd interacted without me frustrating or tiring him somehow. Even if he didn't show it, I knew. 

Still, I had to get him to trust me soon. At this rate, it wouldn't take long for his cannibal tyrant friends to tyrannically cannibalize him. 

Since Ootsuki Rima seemed to tolerate me roughly half the time, I chose to sacrifice her. "Hi," I told her, like we hadn't been behind the counter for hours now.

"Hi," she replied.

"How are you?"

She squinted at me from the corners of her eyes. "What do you want?"

"N-nothing, just conversation..."

"As if. What is it?  I won't help you if you keep the charade up."

I couldn't just admit that I planned on using her as practice for actual conversations. Then she'd ask 'what about your friends?' and I'd say I had none, and I'd rather put my face in the blender than hear someone reply with 'that's impossible' again. "Uh. Well. It's just."

"Is it about your boyfriend?"

"W-what? I don't have any—"

"I saw you guys hold hands the other day. Extremely erotically, might I add."

Was that even possible? "Well, uh. Straight guys can hold hands too."

"Yeah, but you were holding hands the gay way."

I had literally never heard of this before. She sounded like she was bullshitting me, but Ootsuki Rima was supposed to be nice? Or not? It was too early for me to take my break, and it'd be too obvious if I used my phone to search the term 'gay hand holding' right now. In front of her. "That's just your imagination," I replied.

"That's okay. I won't tell anyone."

"Thank y—"

"Just my friends."

"—oh."

"On the internet. Not the real life ones, obviously."

Technically, this counted as a conversation. I hadn't ruined it yet. Was it because people younger than me weren't scary? I couldn't think of anything to say to that, though, since I didn't have friends, and to say so would be dampen the mood. "So. Uh. So what's the difference between gay and straight hand holding?"

We failed to realize a middle-aged woman stood before the counter until she said, "Sorry to interrupt, but I'm on a hurry. Could I please have two slices of lemon cake to go?"

Ootsuki Rima choked back a gasp. "We're very sorry, we didn't—"

"It's fine, it's fine." As I cut the slices, I heard her ask: "So what is the difference?"

"It's... that... the... Kiryuuin, could you go help the customer that just walked in after you're done with that? Thanks."

Fuck. 

While the woman paid and Ootsuki Rima presumably told her the difference, I went to check on the newcomer: short, pudgy, probably early thirties. His hair reminded me of a mop after cleaning a soda spill. I could swear I'd seen him before. Somewhere. Because of the way he leered at me, the feeling was probably mutual. "Lemonade, please," he told me. "Two ham and cheese sandwiches."

"Okay. Thank y—I mean I got it."

Upon giving Youji the order at the kitchen, I had to ask. I HAD to ask: "Do you know the difference between straight and gay hand holding?"

"No, but I can assure you that ours wasn't straight." He grinned. 

I washed my face at the washroom until it cooled down. Maybe the mysterious man would know. I couldn't just ask him, though. Fuck. Anyway, minutes later, I delivered his order. "How old are you?" Asked the man.

"Twenty-one."

"Huh. That's young."

Weird question, weird answer, but it's not like I could judge. Old me would've been scared about this guy's... something? Aura? Presence? But even if he were to be a gangster, new me shouldn't care. It was none of my business. "Yeah. Please enjoy."

"Could you tell me a joke?" 

Never mind. Fuck this shit. "Um. I'll. I'm not. Funny. I'll tell my co-worker to—"

"No, no. I want you to tell me one."

"I-I don't know any. Any jokes."

The mysterious man crossed his arms. "Do you have a favorite movie?"

"No..."

"You're in college, right? What are you studying?"

"Plants. Um. Botany."

"Why?"

This had never happened before. Usually customers just ordered stuff and sat down with their laptops, a book, their friends, or they left to do these things elsewhere. Mr. Clarence told us to be friendly but not to bow down if a client was rude. He'd even told me not to worry about forcing a smile all the time, which is why I'd stayed in the first place. That, and I got paid to do nothing 80% of the time. 

But this... too much. "I'm." I swallowed. "Havetogotothekitchenbye."

I did. I hugged Youji from behind. He seemed to be preparing a drink for someone, but it would've been literally impossible for me to care less. 

However, because I was supposed to protect him and not the other way around, I peeled myself off him a second later. Big mistake. Huge mistake. Youji seemed to put the drink on hold, which was almost as unprofessional as what I'd just done. "What happened?" He asked. Lately, he'd been looking for ways to circumvent 'something wrong', but he wasn't sneaky.

"Nothing. Sorry."

"Was someone rude to you or something?"

"Not exactly."

"Are they still outside? Finish this. I'll go take a look."

"Wait, no. No. Please."  I held his wrist when he didn't listen, which made him stop. "It's fine. I don't know why I just did that. Just, um. Pretend it never happened."

What he did then shocked me—yank his wrist free before leaving the kitchen. To go take a look. I was such a dumbass.  Even if he was a good citizen now, he'd stabbed a man once, but I didn't see him take any kitchen utensils with him or anything... and I couldn't really see him antagonizing anyone or being mean, so maybe he'd just go and... peacefully talk... and tell the mysterious man a joke... and then they'd kiss and date and adopt thirteen children.

Against my best wishes, though, I finished the lemonade. It belonged to the businessman that ordered black coffee with six spoonfuls of sugar. Perhaps he wanted to shake things up. 

I saw neither Youji nor the mysterious man upon serving the drink. "Ootsuki Rima," I asked, begged, whatever, "Did you see where Youji and this other guy went?"

She read a book this time instead of playing on her phone. "Yup. Natsume-san said he'd go out for a bit. I think they're friends or something."

"Okay." Then why had that guy interrogated me earlier? Could he be a member of the gang Youji used to be a part of back when he wasn't a good citizen and now he'd come back to recruit him because Youji was such a good fighter and they couldn't afford to lose him in these trying times so he'd come to gauge me to see if he could kidnap me as ransom to coerce him back to the dark side should I call the police should I—

Youji walked back in. 

—start taking martial arts lessons or join a rival gang to utilize them as self-defense as I slowly ascended to the top in order to—

"Thanks," he told Rima, winked at me, then returned to the kitchen.

—keep him from returning to the ways of evil even if I had to enter it myself while losing sight of who I used to be did he really just wink that was so cute wait no I had to concentrate... anyway... to the point that I'd someday step on a flower and think nothing of it because I'd grown so used to stepping on creatures? I didn't want to be a flower-crushing gang leader, but if that's what it took to keep him smiling and winking, then so be it.

Time to protect.