he wants to be big like, 'ruka, or Sakura's fist, like air in October balloons, water simmering to a boil,
ramen shops, he wants to be full,
that feeling when you're all stuffed up and happy and you could fall asleep right here,
away from the birds, squabbling over the last scattered crumbs, the dust of a family
and that apartment, the woman downstairs always shouting something, you can close your eyes and lose the sound of your own breath in the noise, almost can forget you exist,
(except you have to exist to feel lonely)
he lied, sort of. sometimes he wants to be small, enough to fit in a hand.
to be cradled.