((Redonix Note: I should be working on my other things but I was in the mood to write this instead whoops. Anyways, this is kind of a warning before another warning, but this character is, well to put it simply, a bitch. If you read "Because I Can't Forget You" then you already know this from her introduction in ch. 14, albeit that version of her is already more tame than... this. But keep in mind there is a reason for everything and everything will eventually be explained, so don't let her difficult personality deter you from reading this story!
Warning: This story will eventually contain the following themes: Eating Disorders, Emotional Neglect and Abuse, Self-harm, Suicidal Thoughts, Self Hate, Extreme OCD Behavior, and some Sexual Content. I will put up other warnings on the chapters that these things will appear in.))
"Eye contact is such a dangerous thing. But lovely. Oh, so lovely." ―Unknown
"Airi-chan, it is important to always tell the truth. If you lie to others, even if those lies are tiny and seem harmless, the more you do it then the less people will respect and trust you. And the less they trust you, the more likely you will end up all by yourself."
It was difficult to remember what her lie had originally been about―her main suspicion focused around attempting to avoid the consequences of having broken someone else's toy―but it was impossible to forget the moment her lie had been unveiled and exposed for what it was. She was only five then, when Ijiri Hanae, the woman she had come to know as her adoptive mother, had taught her about the true consequences of what lying accomplished. Being so young, knowing what she had known before being accepted under the Ijiri's compassionate wings, the thought of being alone yet again absolutely terrified her.
So she vowed to herself and to everyone around that she would never tell another lie.
"Ijiri-san, what do you think of this new dress my husband bought for me? He even got it in my favorite color and bought a matching set of earrings! Isn't he just a sweetheart?"
It was a day when Hanae had decided to indulge Airi and bring her to work. The officialness of the words "government" and "database administrator" had always piqued her interest when it came to her mother's job. It was much the same with Ikuo's, her adoptive father, job as a purchasing manager. They were both high paying jobs, and her parents seemed to be incredibly adept and successful, as well as important. To her, they were the coolest people in the world.
"Oh Kyo-chan! You look absolutely stunning! That green really brings out your eyes, and it's so slimming. Your husband has excellent taste."
Airi had given her mother a dubious look, her little grip on the woman's hand tightening mostly in surprise at the words that had come out of her mouth. Those were never the kind of things she said about her co-worker at home, and after seeing Kyo-chan up close even a little kid like her could tell that any outfit on her was anything but slimming. She glanced again at the other lady and gave her a thorough once over before opening her mouth.
"But you hate that color, Kaa-san. You always complain about how gross it looks and say that anyone who wears it is making the worst fashion choice of their life. And you said that Kyo-chan always looks a few pounds too―"
Hanae's face had morphed so far deep into mortification that it was nearly unrecognizable as she slapped her hand over the child's mouth to prevent anything more damaging from being said. She gave her co-worker a nervous smile before wholly denying Airi's claims.
"I-I don't know where she gets some of the things she says! The books she reads these days must give her too many ideas that she gets confused. I promise you, Kyo-chan, that I would never say anything like that about you!"
The laughter that filled the air was strained, a little too high pitched, and far too fake for sensitive ears like the little girl's. She had glared at her mother until the woman had gone, but when Hanae turned to her the disappointment lining her every feature was far more terrifying than the chagrin shining in her eyes. Airi, though shaken by her mother's demeanor, could not stop herself from asking why Hanae had lied, when she had been the very person that had told her to never do it, no matter how small it might be. Her response, delivered with a weary sigh, shattered something within the child that day.
"Sometimes it's okay to lie. Sometimes you have to. Everyone does it, sweetie, especially if they want others to like them. Because if you're well liked then you can do almost anything without getting into trouble."
Seven year old Ijiri Airi came to realize two things after that: One, her father lied as well, and two, she no longer thought her parents were cool.
"Why are you still defending her?! She cheated on you and said she only cared about our family's status!"
"Because I still love her! And I know that I can fix this, she only did that because I wasn't there for her. She only did it because she was lonely!"
"Lonely? Lonely?! That's what she told you? And you believe her over me, the one who has provided you with physical evidence of the things she's done behind your back? Open your eyes Yori! She doesn't love y―"
That was the first time she had been slapped.
But not the first time her trust in someone had been broken.
Ijiri Yori, one of many siblings that had been adopted into the family, was not one to turn to violence of any kind―he didn't believe in it. His touch was always tender and calming, and hugs from him were the only kind Airi would ever accept anymore. He was reasonable, mature, and the one person she could rely on, and in turn he to her. Or at least, so she had thought.
Tears burned the rims of her eyes but did not fall, the spot where his hand had made contact with her face stinging like thousands of needles pricking her skin. The look on her brother's face sent her stumbling back as she cradled her cheek. Airi knew that look, had seen it multiple times, directed at her. It wasn't an unfamiliar thing, hatred. She just never expected to see it on his face.
"Shut up! You don't know anything about love! You're just a cold-hearted brat that can't stand to see others happy!"
He had gripped his hair so hard, for a second Airi had worried that he would rip it out. What a wasted second.
"I don't know why I thought I could help you! Everyone was right― You are unlovable and unable to love, and you never will be."
Her hand fell away from her face, limp at her side. The tears still did not fall.
"Y-Yori…"
"Get out. Just… get out."
Airi walked out the door without looking back, and it was only then that she cried.
Her nose barely scraped the laminated sheet, causing her to jerk upright. She rapidly blinked but the blurriness did not go away. Disoriented from the unexpected field trip down memory lane, it took her a moment to remember that everything was so blurry because she wasn't wearing her glasses. Rubbing her eyes with one hand, she blindly pawed around the desk in search of the glasses.
"Absolutely fantastic," she muttered the moment she found them―and of course she had to put her dirty little fingerprints all over them―shoving the lenses on as far as they would go until it started to hurt. Airi glanced at the little digital clock sitting on the far left corner of the desk with a scowl. Sighing, she picked herself up from her seat and shuffled out of the bedroom.
"Mow."
Soft fur tickled her ankles as a rather big tuxedo cat wound his way around them, purring as he vigorously rubbed his head against her shins. Airi grunted and kept moving. She only stopped to refill the cat's bowl―not that it really needed it, but the little asshole wouldn't settle for her just moving the crunchy brown pebbles around so the center wasn't visible. The cat was smart and petty, end of story, but she had cultivated an interesting way of retaliating.
She dug into the bag and pulled out the scoop, filled right up the very top, before plucking a single, solitary pebble off the top and tossed it in the dish. The cat looked at it and then back her in an almost accusing manner. Airi shrugged, a faint smirk barely stretching her thin lips along her face. "Check and Mate ya little asshole. Call me when your bowl is actually empty, okay?"
The cat bared his fangs and gave a low hiss that made the girl think of a particularly crude gesture and the smirk grew a little broader as she turned to venture from the narrow dining room and into the slightly more spacious kitchen. The moment she set foot inside the orderly room all thoughts immediately became wired on a single object that sat on the counter between the stove and the sink: Coffee.
The brewer itself was devoid of any actual coffee― she didn't believe in leaving any leftovers to just sit in the pot and grow cold. That was not only a disgusting waste of a good product, but also completely unsanitary. But soon it would be filling up, sending a strong, warm aroma around the room until it eventually worked its way throughout the entire apartment. Already, as she reached into the cupboard above for the can, her mouth was beginning to water in memory of the intense bitter flavor combining with the kick of caffeine. She took no additives, preferring it black and straight from the pot. It was the best way to send a wake up call to her brain, in her opinion, even if her brain had never actually gone to sleep the night before.
But when Airi popped the lid off a disappointing sight greeted her.
"Marvelous!" The amount of false cheer in her voice made her cringe about the same amount as the empty can did. She craned her head over her shoulder and growled at her cat. "Hey asshole, how come you didn't remind me I was out of coffee?"
Summer green eyes peered at her from around the corner for a split second. The cat yawned before turning around again to return to his dried food.
"Oh, sure, just because I'm the only one in this damn place that actually drinks the stuff doesn't mean that I have to remember everything. Useless cat." She waved the empty can for extra emphasis before screwing the lid back on, chucking it in the trash.
"The least you could do is help out around the place more often. Or better yet, get a job and help pay rent! You're three years old, that's like, almost thirty in cat years. You are literally being the cat equivalent of a thirty year old living in his mother's basement!"
The only response she got was a disinterested meow.
Airi sighed, pushing her glasses further up her face as she rubbed her eyes, leaning against the counter.
"What a great way to start the day off too," she muttered. "First, the one time that I actually manage to doze off it was not only too fucking little too late, but I got to be reminded all over again how much I hate them. But what about the bright side, you ask? Well the bright side was that it didn't cycle through all of those memories. At least I snapped out of it before that lying prick could appear. However that bright side is overlooked by the fact that I don't have any fucking coffee."
Her cat―whose name was really Galileo, and not Asshole or any other variant of it―strolled into the kitchen and sat himself on top of her feet and promptly began giving himself a bath. Airi stared down at him while gnawing the inside of her cheek, absently rubbing the loose sleeve of her grey shirt up and down her arm.
"What else could possibly go wrong, I ask myself, knowing full well that I'm only setting myself up," Airi added, still continuing the one-sided conversation even after the brief moment of silence. "I'll tell you what can go wrong; the fact that today's the first day of school doesn't improve anything. And I swear to whatever god there might be in this world―if that idiot barges in during all the breaks again just to be pointlessly loud and obnoxious with his equally stupid friends then I'm going to commit murder!"
Just the thought of the person in question was enough to set her teeth on edge. For the past two years―soon to be going on three―Airi's resolve had been worn so thin that it was practically threadbare at this point, all because of one particularly loud mouthed, high strung, moody student that everyone else for some unknown reason actually seemed to like. He was an absolute nuisance through and through, waltzing into her classroom, being unreasonably rowdy, disrupting her study sessions with his obnoxious chanting and stupid noises. He thought of himself as some hotshot, undoubtedly, and the people around him and the status from his ridiculous sport only fueled his bloody ego. If she really would have to deal with him today then there was little uncertainty in her mind that she'd snap and probably break something―preferably over that buffoon's head.
Galileo, as if reading her unpleasant thoughts, paused his self-cleaning to turn his head and deliver a painfully sharp nip on her ankle. Automatically she jerked her foot back and right into the hard counter wall behind it. Airi glared at her cat with a hiss that he returned.
"Asshole," she muttered, ignoring the warm throb of pain coursing up and down the backside of her heel. With a huff the girl turned away, glancing at the clock and cringing at the time―particularly at the last number, a seven.
As Airi began to shuffle back to her room to get ready for school, cat lazily trailing after, she began a fresh start to an old conversation. "I know I've told you this before, but seven is just an awful number. I don't get why people call it things like lucky or magical―it doesn't even divide nicely! A true magical number would be four because…"
Lunch had started out wonderfully. She had only seen her most dreaded obstacle once that day, at the entrance ceremony. He hadn't even been around when she'd gone to check her class―only a minor win in her opinion, since the place had been packed with other noisy students trying to see if they were in the same class as their gossip loving friends. And both of the breaks before the lunch hour had been relatively peaceful, though occasionally there would be a moment of chaos from down the hall that would set her spine straight and her nerves into a paranoid battle mode. The second it became obvious that it wouldn't be coming anywhere near her then she would relax and return to her study guide, memorizing each detail approximately eight times in order to make sure it stuck. And come the lunch hour, still with no obnoxious boy in sight, Airi allowed herself to believe that perhaps missing her morning coffee was not a sign of bad things to come.
She should have just realized the peace was merely an eye in the storm.
It was at the exact moment that she flipped a page of her notes―preparation for her future career―that everything was shattered by an exuberant shout, the boy it originated from appearing in the doorway not even a second later.
"Hey, hey, hey!"
Her fingers curled in on themselves so fast, so hard, that she felt as well as heard her knuckles popping. The paper in her hand tore slightly right at the spine and her eyes widened in horror before narrowing and rising to point daggers at her fellow peer. The young man didn't seem to notice her glare―he never did anyways―and he trooped happily into the room with one hand raised in greeting to a group of boys clustered on the other side of the room while the other ran through oddly styled hair.
'Dammit, I knew missing my morning coffee was a sign something would go wrong today,' she thought bitterly before averting her attention from one particularly stupid boy known as Bokuto Koutarou. Gingerly she finished flipping the page and assessed the tear. Luckily it wasn't terribly large―once she had access to it then she'd tape it up and it would be almost like nothing had happened to it. All that was left to do now was plot a murder. The idea was made somewhat more humorous considering that her current set of notes were all about how people got away with the said crime.
But even though plotting a murder was all fun and games she wasn't going to let Bokuto's presence deter her from much needed studying. As the volume inside the classroom pitched higher thanks to the new arrival, Airi attempted to read through her notes again. Though try as she might none of the words on the paper seemed to sink in, and before she realized it she had read the same line five times without understanding any of it. It was like the visual equivalent of "in one ear, out the other" and she hated it. Without studying to keep her mind occupied, to help keep her future goals in sight, what the hell else was she supposed to do? It wasn't like she had her own clique of boot-licking followers like a certain someone to mindlessly waste her time.
Deep, roaring laughter drew her attention, eyes narrowing as she observed the group of boys goofing off.
'What is it that people actually like about him?' she wondered disdainfully. It wasn't the first time this question had plagued her, and unfortunately she doubted it wouldn't be the last for a while either. Nothing ever seemed to add up when she tried to think about it―all the normal reasons people liked each other just didn't seem applicable to the over enthusiastic bird brain.
One of her first guesses, back in her first year, had been because he was funny. Everyone was always grinning at whatever thing he had to say, and sometimes the things he would do would get a crowd starting a riot. That theory had been discreetly tested out and dashed to pieces several times when she had tried listening in on a few conversations and found that every word that came out of his mouth sounded like the adults from the "Peanuts" comics. Another idea was that he was somehow charismatic. She'd read somewhere that people just loved flocking towards the charismatic types. And yet, while Bokuto did seem to possess a little bit of said quality, she was more convinced that he was either bipolar or else puberty was going to kill him with raging hormones and that everyone just liked watching him flail around.
The boys had decided to put the tables together, seating Bokuto on one side and an idiot of a classmate on the other. They rolled up their sleeves, loosened their ties―if they hadn't already―and set their dominant arms on the table. The two squared off, gripping each other's hands in some pathetic intimidation attempt, while the others around them started taking bets on who would win the round. Most were placed on Bokuto, the rest were pity for the other boy.
Whatever allure he held to the female population―and she wouldn't be surprised if this applied to the males as well―could all be traced back to the fact that he was a big boy. Big roughly translating to a pair of broad shoulders, a thick chest, two barrel crushing arms, and a set of well toned legs. Grudgingly Airi would admit that it was one good thing going for him―being in shape should be an ideal for everyone, in her opinion. But it did nothing to make up for the amount of space it seemed to leave in his head where there was supposed to be a brain.
The noise level soared in the span of a few seconds as Bokuto pinned his opponent's arm flat on the desk. He crowed loudly and happily with victory, the sound hitting Airi's ears with the same effect a fire alarm was supposed to have―deafening and positively obnoxious. Gritting her teeth and nearly slamming her study guide shut, she stood up, gripping the edges of her desk tight enough that it felt like her bones would pop right through the skin.
'I should just leave now before it escalates,' she growled to herself. She hated the thought of it though; leaving to seek refuge in a quieter place, preferably the library, almost felt like she was giving up her ground. For two years she had dealt with the owl-haired idiot's camaraderie, either weathering the storm when he dropped by with the intent of staying or slinking off to elsewhere for actual quiet study. For two years she had tolerated the rambunctious force people called Bokuto Koutarou and had been pushed right up to the edge of her breaking point. Two years… Was she really going to let it go onto three?
Another victory shout, more groaning.
'I wish he would just shut up. I wish they would all just shut up. Just shut up, shut up, shut up, shut up. S-h-u―'
"Will you just shut up already?!" The words left her mouth as a sharp cry―just above the intensity of a raised voice, but still below a shout. She huffed, her grip on the desk's edges tightening further still, slowly turning a lethal glare on the group.
They all fell silent as one, and when Bokuto looked at her he finally seemed to notice her existence. And the fact that it was an angry one made his jaw hang loose, as if there was only a thin string keeping the surprise from letting it fall completely.
Airi decided it was the best expression he'd ever made, and that she wished she'd done this sooner.
Bokuto nearly busted his gut as he laughed, his nose pointed high in the air. Around him his friends slapped his back, while a few gave comforting pats to―and defeated groans with―the loser of the match. Kan Akinobu lay awkwardly sprawled across the makeshift table, the force of Bokuto's win having nearly tossed him all the way off. The boy glared at him through slits in his eyes, traces of black shining and oozing like liquid poison, which only made the owl laugh harder, knowing full well that there wasn't any actual harm in his friend's gaze.
Akinobu righted himself, rubbing the entirety of his right arm. "Damn Bokuto, next time rip the entire thing off why don't you?"
He grinned. "And that, gentlemen, is why I am called the King of―"
"Will you just shut up already?!"
The near shouted command startled him and he quickly turned in his seat to find the source. All he saw was a girl standing at her desk.
She was tall, even hunched over her desk with a death grip handling each side. Long, mousey brown hair slung over her shoulder in a loose braid that hid her face―her expression―until she looked up and directly at him. Bokuto felt his jaw drop even as the rest of his body froze in place, pinned down by sharply angled eyes that were a gold similar to his own, yet darker like amber placed under a deep shadow. It was impossible to focus on anything other than her eyes―eyes that glinted with light reflected from small oval glasses and wore darkness beneath them like a cape. He still didn't know what her expression was, but her eyes… Her eyes did a better job at expressing emotion than a face.
They pierced him without mercy, slowly carving out a path through him with disdain. They sliced him with a burning hot ire that was quickly followed with a freezing chill. They cut through him, taking thin pieces off bit by bit in a slow, agonizing way. And, as Bokuto took all of this in, he realized one thing: Her eyes were like shards of glass.
Broken, jagged, and ruthless shards of glass that were just waiting to cut him to shreds.
Most people, at the mention of of a little word called a "cut", thought of the well justified equivalent known as physical pain. They thought of the last time they may have been injured in a way that opened their skin, or perhaps their most recent experience in finding that magical paper cut on their finger through some odd means. Many remembered a quick, fleeting pain; some even recalled it lasting longer than a few second, spanning for minutes while burning the entire time. Some cuts were clean, and produce nothing but a thin slit and a direct view into the body simply because it wasn't deep enough or hadn't hit the proper veins.
And there there were the cuts that would bleed, and bleed, and bleed a deep crimson without end.
But for some cuts were more of a poetic entity―a metaphor. It wasn't so much about the physical injury as it was the invisible one; mentality and its fragility. Sharp words were tools to slice through weak minds like a hot knife through soft butter, wearing down the strong while they were at it, damaging whatever there was to damage. They could be shallow or deep, fresh or scabbed, new or old. The difference always lied in how it affected the person. Mental cuts were just as every bit as painful as the physical ones, but were also harder to heal.
For Bokuto Koutarou he was always reminded of his first major cuts and scrapes from early childhood. Always somehow prone to accidents when he was younger, injuries had never been a foreign concept to him―even now that he was older he couldn't even begin to count the number of times he had hurt himself. The most prominent memory that usually came to mind first was one from the beginning of grade school days, back when he was either five or six. He'd been playing in his backyard with a ball―it was red, shiny, and brand new―and he'd kicked it too hard, too high, and sent it flying right through the window of a little shed that sat in the corner of the yard.
Knowing that he would get into major trouble if either his mother or father―the thought of both finding out at the same time had been terrifying, as two parents mad at him was scarier than just one―found out about it, Koutarou had taken it upon himself to, ah, dispose of the evidence. The only other thing on his mind was praying that neither of his parents would notice the missing pane of glass the next time they came out to the shed.
But it was in his haste and worry, as well as infinite clumsiness, that he had failed to be careful of the glass itself when handling it.
Back then he had barely even known the meaning of pain tolerance, and had cried as soon as he had felt the sharp edges pierce his soft, untrained skin. Over the years, though, he'd come to make himself stronger, and was resistant to most pain provided by a cut. The only reminder Bokuto had of the incident was a thin, jagged white line that ran unevenly across both hands.
And now, the longer he held this girl's attention, the more he was reminded of that one day so many years ago. It was so odd how a single look from a stranger could bring up such memories, and something about it caused his hands, usually such warm things, to grow cold.
"Wh-... What?" Bokuto finally managed to find a voice to respond with, pulling himself out of his stupor to acknowledge the girl turning to fully face him.
"I said shut up." Koutarou flinched a little when she hissed at him, and as the girl folded her arms across her chest it became very apparent that she was far from done. "Do you want me to repeat it slower for you so you can understand it with that feather filled brain of yours, or do you get the message?"
The contempt in her voice poisoned the air, and though the command sounded like it had been directed towards the whole group, the stare that had never broken eye contact said that every word was meant just for him.
"Oh for hell's sake, calm down Ijiri." Akinobu suddenly barked. "Untwist your panties and sit down. It's not like he was doing you any harm."
Her attention flickered towards his friend and Bokuto relaxed, the relief flooding through him in one giant swell, though the guilt he felt for Akinobu was quick to follow.
"Pick your definition of harm, Kan, because I can assure you that our views differ greatly on the matter. While you," Ijiri's gaze riveted on him yet again and Bokuto couldn't help but feel as if he had suddenly been put on trial, "may see yourselves as just having a bit of fun, in reality you are being highly disruptive to those of us that are actually trying to make themselves useful by studying and preparing for college."
"By 'those of us' you're referring to just yourself, aren't you?" Akinobu bit back, clearly undeterred, although still wary, by this girl's behavior. Bokuto remained silent. A part of him was still confused by the matter―after all, one moment he and his friends had been laughing it up and having a good time, but the next was like (he) they were all under siege. The rest of him understood that speaking now wouldn't help him in the slightest; it had become a personal duel of words between Akinobu and Ijiri-san, a place that he had no business being in. Yet.
"Oh what a smart cookie you are. Obviously I was referring to myself, as I am the only other person in here aside from you monkeys―although I'm certain if you were to ask a few others I'm sure you'd find that they can get as equally annoyed by your behavior as I have been and still am."
The sarcasm dripped slowly from her voice despite how quickly words left her mouth. Bokuto studied the young woman as she continued to hold her ground against the other boy, finding that the firm yet closed off stance was almost like a ward against defeat. It awed the ace to the point that it was almost considered frightening. Despite how fearsome she was―the kind that could put the fear of God in men, as well as the kind his father had warned him about―Koutarou couldn't help but polish off a bit of respect for this stranger.
Suddenly Akinobu jumped from his seat, gesturing with a harsh swing in Bokuto's direction, dispelling the trance he had been placed in. "What does it matter if he comes in here to hang out and be loud? He can do whatever he wants and he doesn't need yours or anyone else's permission to do it! Just sit down and go back to your notes like a good student. Or better yet, just go find somewhere else to bitch and moan."
So this definitely was about him and he hadn't been imagining it. He could already guess why as well without even having the whole conversation to get the picture. Bokuto knew he was excitable, loud, and energetic as a person―he'd have to be completely and utterly stupid to not know that about himself. He also knew that the changes in his moods brought about unpleasant things at times and that it caused others to become exasperated with him. Ijiri seemed to have dealt with her fair share of experiencing his personality, even if he had never shared it with her explicitly, and for that he knew he needed to apologize―and quickly if the snarl that had appeared on her face was anything to judge by.
Just as he began to raise his hands up in hopes that it might diffuse the momentum of the argument, Ijiri exploded.
"I never said he couldn't be in here, did I? I never said you guys couldn't hang out, did I? I never said that he had to have anyone's permission to do so, did I?" She was livid and trembling, as if there was too much anger barely being repressed within herself. "If you had listened to even a single word I said then you'd know that I'm pissed off at how loud all of you think it's necessary for you to be. I can't just sit down like a good student and just study because I can't focus when you're all yelling like you just got your dicks cut off!"
A collective wince ran through the group as the mental image hit them. It wasn't nearly as pleasant as she made it out to be.
"And I refuse to leave this time because it will mean that nothing has changed! I've put up with every single one of you doing this shit for the past two years. Two. Years! I'll be damned if I just shut up and let it shoot for three just because it's more convenient for you."
'Oh…,' Bokuto blinked, feeling as if his entire perspective had suddenly taken a step back. Had she really been dealing with this―with his antics―for that long? And he had never noticed. Never noticed her or the fact that he was bothering her. And the fact that she had put up with everything until now, the fact that she hadn't said anything until now―he understood very well just how tolerant she had really been.
She wasn't really a bad person, just someone that had reached their wits end.
Koutarou stood up, causing everyone to look at him; Akinobu's tanned face scrunched in confusion as he stared, beginning to open his mouth yet again just as the owl haired boy shook his head and turned to Ijiri.
Cold eyes regarded him more calmly than before, but the sharpness remained, still stinging him with those invisible cuts.
"I apologize for mine and my friends' behavior, Ijiri-san. We shouldn't have been so loud and inconsiderate of those around us. We'll go somewhere else so you can study in peace." He bowed before taking a step forward, reconsidered, and then turned to fix the desks so that they were back in order. When he turned his back he missed the way those gold eyes widened and lost traces of their sharp edge, missed the way she seemed taken aback, as if that had not been a reaction she had thought possible of coming from him.
Akinobu gripped his arm, hissing lowly, "You don't have to do anything, especially not for her. She's just a bitch that always has to be angry about something."
Bokuto stared at his friend, slightly shocked at the venom in his voice, and opened his mouth to counter him just as he was cut off.
"I never said you had to leave."
He glanced over his shoulder. Ijiri looked at him for a moment with a confusing, almost unreadable, expression, before turning and sliding back into her desk. She opened a black binder and flipped to a specific page―perhaps the last one she had been on before finally snapping. Without looking up she muttered, "I never said you had to leave… Just be quiet if you do stay."
And she fell silent as if the words in her binder were quick to absorb her into another world. Bokuto blinked and watched her as she turned her head away to hide her face, running a hand through her hair and stopping short to prop herself in an exasperated manner. He didn't look away even when someone pushed him back into his seat, or when the group huddled closer together to quietly discuss the most recent bout of drama Ijiri had caused.
"She should have just said that from the beginning and been done with it," Akinobu growled. "All she ever does it get onto someone else's case just because she doesn't like something. And just because she's going into Law she thinks she needs to treat every argument like it's some fucking case that's being reviewed in the court. It just makes her that much more insufferable."
Koutarou slowly turned his head away from the girl, though he kept glancing at her from the corner of his eye every now and then. From the way everyone agreed with Kan then it seemed things like this happened frequently, and that she was well known beyond the classroom. Yet that didn't stop Bokuto from failing to notice her…
"So…," he glanced at Ijiri again, feeling kind of stupid for having to ask. "Who exactly is she? I mean, you guys seem to know her, and I hang out with you a lot, but I don't know who she is."
Handa Jin, a childhood friend of Akinobu's and a guy that knew how to pack a punch, rolled his eyes and he tucked his arms under his head. "That's Ijiri Airi― You know, that girl that we used as a bravery challenge last year and in first year? The one we gave the slogan 'If you're brave enough to ask her out and get shot down then you can talk to your crush'?"
He nodded slowly, recalling it very quickly, very clearly. If one had found themselves with the dilemma of having a crush, but no courage to ask the person out, then they were to go and ask the meanest girl in the whole school on a date. Talking to her and dealing with whatever she said when she shot you down was meant to give a person more bravery for talking to their crush. He remembered the game, even if he never played it himself, but he never knew the girl they'd chosen to use for it. To find out that it was the one that had looked ready to nail him to a tree by his toes not even two minutes ago was… shocking, to say the least.
Jin continued, leaning forward with a mischievous glint in his chocolate eyes. "You know, if she'd actually taken one of those guys up on their offers for a date then she might have gotten herself a boyfriend. There's a thing that a lot of people say about relationships, how getting some can make you a more pleasant person. Too bad that there's not a blind or deaf person that'd be willing to take her now though."
Snickers raced around the uneven circle, but Bokuto couldn't bring himself to join in. A frown tugged at his lips and he glanced again at Ijiri, finding that she had hunched herself even closer to her binder in a way that she almost looked like a protective shell. He always knew that his friends were prone to making the occasional inappropriate joke but it had never been mean-spirited or even directed at a real person―one that could no doubt still hear them, even if they were being notably quieter than before. It was unsettling to hear them talking in a way that was unlike themselves.
"No, you know what she really needs is to―," Akinobu made an odd noise as he drew an imaginary line over his neck. "Nobody likes her anyways so it'd just be better if she offed herself. I mean, it's not like anyone wants or needs her here to begin with."
Bokuto openly gaped while the rest of the group agreed. He couldn't believe what he had just heard―what he was still hearing. How could anyone even think such a thing, let alone say it? And the fact that it had come out of Akinobu's, a friend's, mouth… It was like he didn't really even know who was speaking to him! It was absolutely mortifying to hear people he knew treating death, suicide, like some sort of practical joke.
There came a clatter of metal against tile and everyone turned to look at Ijiri as she got out of her seat, not even casting a single glare or otherwise in their direction as she swiftly took her leave of the classroom. Bokuto watched her as she passed by the windows; she did nothing but look straight ahead with her back set straight and her jaw clenched tightly. There wasn't a hint that she might be close to crying, but he was certain that she was feeling something because of those awful words said about her.
"Ah, finally! Now we can be as loud as we wa― Hey where are you going?" Akinobu had begun to recline himself in victory, but stopped short as Koutarou leapt up and began to hurry after Ijiri.
He stopped, though he knew he shouldn't have, and turned to glare at everyone. "I'm going to apologize to her for that! It's not okay to say that someone should just kill themselves just because you don't like them or because they're a disagreeable person, especially if you know they can hear you!"
Akinobu spluttered in an attempt to cover his mistake. "I― But― It's what everyone thinks! What does it matter if a bitch like her just disappears? We'd all be better off without her!"
Lead was beginning to fill Bokuto's veins and he grew heavy with disgust. "Then I guess that's where you and I think differently. And if that's how you think―how all of you think―then we can't be friends anymore."
Stunned, no one said another thing to stop him as he turned and ran off to catch Ijiri. He spun around the doorway and slipped down the hall, where at the end his target had stopped and remained still. Slipping around the few people that wandered the hall with ease, Bokuto reached the young woman quickly and came to a halt just a few meters behind her.
"Igiri― I mean Ijiri-san," he stumbled over her name and quickly recovered, "I know you heard what those guys said and I'm sorry. I'm really, really sorry for that and I wished they hadn't said it or that I had told them off even more but―"
She turned around to look at him, both hands pressed close to her stomach while the left one dug pointed nails into the right, scratching mindlessly to create long white marks that grew red in an instant. Golden eyes peered down at him with a distant look dully gleaming in them while other expression remained void on her face. Up close Bokuto could see that the darkness around her eyes was more purple, like bruises, and that it only made her look worse for wear. Everything about her was dragged down by a tiredness that seemed to run a lot further than today. It only made him feel worse about the situation.
"What they said was harsh, but I've heard worse," she said quietly, an almost rueful smile pulling at her mouth. "And at least they were telling the truth. You'd be amazed at how little they actually do it."
Her gaze shifted towards the windows as she continued on. "I… acknowledge that you're putting the effort into apologizing to me again, even if I didn't really deserve either of them, and I'm sorry for lashing out at you the way I did."
"You can't really be all that bad," he mumbled, the words more meant to be thought rather than vocalized. Realizing that he said that out loud Bokuto jumped to try and add onto that. "I-I mean, you can't be all that bad if you're able to recognize that you did wrong as well and apologize…"
Ijiri breathed deeply, a breath that was a faint imitation of a snort, and she turned to look at him again with a slightly more amused look. "Now I see why people find you so funny." She shook her head before adding. "Don't confuse my ability to act maturely for some kinder nature. I have never claimed to be a nice person, nor will I ever."
Koutarou remained silent. He had no idea what to say, no idea of who she even was. There was just the thought that she wasn't really as evil as everyone, and even herself apparently, seemed to think she was. After all, she had never actually made him leave the classroom despite being such a bother, and she was capable of apologizing for her own mistakes. It may not have been stellar material for an amazing person, but it was better than people that thought she deserved to die.
The girl began to move away from him again. "I apologize for the way I reacted, but I won't take back a single thing I said because I meant every word. And a little advice for the future: It would benefit us both if you just leave me alone."
Spinning around, the bottom of her long skirt swishing around her ankles, the girl known as Ijiri Airi walked away, her words hanging in the air between them like chains dangling from a ceiling. And Bokuto, unable to reach out to her, unable to grab her arm or say something that was possible of keeping her from leaving, stood in place and watched her go.
If there was one thing he was convinced of after meeting Ijiri Airi, though, it was that she was a better person than what most thought, and that all she really needed was a friend.
((Note Cont: This was my first time writing Bokuto in depth so I thought it would be better to try writing him serious first before I get to the funny side of him. I could really use some tips for writing him though, as well as other types of ConCrit advice. Also, I'm posting this at almost three in the morning so idk how many or where the mistakes are in this, sorry.))