School let out five minutes ago and I can still hear laughter in the hallways. The moment the bell rang, I've deterred my focus towards the window to watch other students file out of the building. They were lucky. They were happy. They had a normal American family to go home to. I let out a sigh as I readjust the hair band that's struggling to keep my hair out of my face and out of my sight.
I look back at what's in front of me. It's something I'm not proud of. I cringe at the sight of it and grab a paint drenched sponge next to me, throwing it at a spot on the canvas. "Ugh!" I clamp my face tight with the palms of my hands. The frustration inches every bit closer to my heart, to my soul, and eats away at my self-esteem. I used to love to color and paint as a kid but I wasn't good at it. Now, it seems to be the only thing I do in my free time besides watching cartoons and anime.
My watch beeps and slam it against a nearby table to get it to shut up. Then I hear it. Someone is outside the door. My heartbeat quickens. I didn't lock it. What a fool, Sanban! How can you not lock the door? Stupid! Stupid! Stuuuuupid! Wait, did I even shut it? Oh God! I skip seventh period and don't even close the door to my secret hide-out? Stupid! I could have gotten caught. The door creaks open slightly and someone approaches. Yep, I left the door open. Damn it!
I nearly jump at the sound of footsteps, but I attempt to turn around calmly to see who it was. I wasn't calm though. There was a look of surprise and fear on my face before I even saw who it was. I tried to act in a way that signaled to the other person that I was getting ready to leave. So, I was reaching for my bag and half sitting, half standing. It was no use though. My eyes met his quicker then I had expected. He was just as surprised that someone else was in here as I was. He probably spent time alone in here too. A typical delinquent. "I-I'm sorry. I was just getting ready to leave," my words jumble all together at a high-pitch frequency. Way to go, Kuki. There's no way he's letting you leave.
I stare down at the floor once I toss my messenger bag over my shoulder. I then look up at him. Tall and husky with the trademark blonde hair. I do a double take. Yeah, it's not blonde any more. I just choose to imagine it is blonde. I've always known him as the tough, short, blonde kid who I used to walk beside on my way to class in elementary school. We were a team. Of course, it wasn't just us, but if you had to narrow it down to two people being a duo out of the group, we'd be set off together. We're not extremely compatible and we haven't always gotten along. For some reason, we used to be so close. Our entire team was just composed of best friends and I thought we could remain friends until we graduate high school, but we all know that never works out.
I lift my head a tad bit more, trying to gain my confidence around him. Black hair. It's not him. It can't be him. I gulp and hold back tears in his presence. "You don't have to leave. You can go back to painting your frilly anime characters or whatever you were doing," he says as he waves his hand in the air and walks towards a counter to sit on top of. "Ah!" He situates him on top of the counter. I'm still staring at him in dismay of how cool he acting towards me, and he immediately catches on. "What? You don't want me here? I'm here every afternoon and during my gym class. But...if you don't want me here..." I am flustered by his speech. "Oh! No! No! No! No! You can stay! You can stay! I-I'm sorry for...Wait, you're here everyday? But this is where I come everyday. I come here everyday during my seventh period study hall and my lunch period. What could you possibly do here in the abandoned art room? You don't even -psht! haha- you don't even draw!"
He lifted a brow. "Who said I needed to be an artist to be in a room filled with art?" My mouth flung open as I felt sweat drip down my back. Something told me that I'll be in here for longer than I had expected. "Well, I was going to leave when most of the busses and cars have left." I cough to fill the awkwardness my sentence has left to float in the air. He closed his eyes and shook his head, stretching himself on the counter and laying down. That's when he sees it. He sits up taking in every detail from across the room, even the spongy texture I threw on it in anger. "Even a bad boy like me can't help but dish out compliments to pretty girls." "What? Ugh! You're still so stupid, Wally. What is that supposed to mean? 'Bad boys' dish out bull crap to every girl who walks by. They're all jerks just like you! You pervert! You're not even a bad kid! You just pretend to be cool by smoking and shit! Blegh! And you know what else-?"
"Jeez! Will you shut up!?" He stops me in the middle of my rant. I guess being quiet for so long has ripened my opinions and readied them to be heard. "I'm sorry," I mumble so low that only I could hear it. "You haven't changed, Kuki." He sighs. "I didn't mean for that one sentence to come out the way it did. I wasn't admiring you -no! I mean, I was admiring you-I was looking at your artwork! Jeebus! How hard is it for me to say? Whatever I say to you screws everything up!" I nod in agreement, "Whatever we say to each other crushes the little bonds we have left." "Exactly," he says, looking into my eyes, happy that I understand him. I understand him. He understands me. Someone understands me. My heart begins to beat wildly and I know I'm alive. I am cared for even if this person doesn't seem to care any more. They care.
"Listen, I'm sorry. Er...this got off on the wrong foot. Er, that painting. It's from that loli show you like so much, right?" I giggle at his stupid guess and shake my head. "FaceBook stalker, much? No, it's from this manga I've been reading about a lonely girl and I figured-" "Is that a Rainbow Dorky!? Bwahaha!" I clench my fist and scowl at him. "I figured Aya could be a fan of Rainbow Monkeys too, so I drew her with one." "Eh! I don't care what you do as long as it doesn't involve me." My heart sinks. He really doesn't care. He continues to feign sleep on top of the counter for the next minute or so. I am left standing in silence. He doesn't even know the pain I'm in or the thoughts I'm sinking in.
"You know, we haven't talked in awhile." He perks up and opens one eye. My mind goes blank and I stand still. I wanted to say something, I did. I wanted to say something so bad but I didn't know how to say it. Everything we had ever said in the past just broke us bit by bit into tiny pieces. We haven't talked because you don't want to. He hops off his resting place to walk past me. He was inches away from the wet paint drying on the canvas. His fingers floated in the air, mindlessly tracing the curves and lines through the air. It was as if his fingers were dancing.
"Why do you come to this room everyday?" I ask. Where did that come from? Okay, what part of my brain is in charge of speaking? Who said this? Grr, I'm gonna get one of you little brain cells later. "A bully needs his breaks!" he says in a cocky tone. "Actually, it's like a vacation, a time portal to one of our trips to the beach." I ask him to elaborate and he grabs two cans of root beer out of his bag. "Is that beer?!" I freak out. "No! I can't pretend I'm a kid again with beer. Besides, I'm not the one who brings beer to campus. That would be Dickenson and the gang, not me. Don't tell the boss that though. He'll get his butt kicked of the Teens Next Door faster than you can say kangaroo!" "Kangaroo?" I ask quizzically. "No! You weren't supposed to say it!" He evidently didn't get what I was asking.
"Here," he hands me his iPod, "Turn on anything you'd like." Maybe I'm a bad seed but I don't go straight to his Spotify application. It was on accident but I click his pictures. The first picture was taken a few years ago of the team. We were around thirteen but we looked so young. If only I had known back then what was going to happen, I could have prevented me from losing him. I flip through the pictures some more to see images of concerts, hideous girls, drugs, cuts on his arms, gothic clothing, gaming screenshots, and a whole bunch of stuff that makes me sick to my stomach. I'm sure if he saw my private pictures, he would feel the same. Is that was it feels like when you can't help someone you love?
He snatches it away from me and immediately puts on some music. "You took too long, you big sissy." He has a portable gaming system in his hand and rapidly presses the button. "Monster Hunter 3 Ultimate. Don't bother me," he tells me, not lifting his eyes from the screen. "Oh. Okay." I sit back down on my stool and stare at the canvas. I wanted to lose myself in its colors if it was only plausible. I wanted to swim in the red ocean and drink from the brightness shinning from the girl's hair. I wanted to be far away because I couldn't help him. He couldn't help me. We've made it to two separate galaxies now, and we've only found the way to crumble our lives into dust.
Minutes pass and I assume he's still playing his game. I should have made it home by now, or at least call home. Oh! That's right! They wouldn't have cared if I was drowning in the same room with someone as insane as me. Arms wrap around my upper body for a good minute before I realize they're even there. His leans his head down to cushion himself on my shoulder. "Wally..." I was bewildered, missing a piece to the puzzle. Wally?! I wanted to cry. Then I realize he's the one crying. He's desperate for me to notice and comfort him.
His tears and snot drench my shirt. "...and I never want to forget you..." Has he been talking this whole time? "Do you hear me, Kuki?! You're so stupid!" He grabs me by the shoulders forcefully and shakes me. I want to ask him what's going on but I'm too confused to even speak. He has my phone in his hand and gently throws it to the ground. I'm just glad I own a Nokia. "What is this?" I ask him, darting my eyes to the ground at my phone. He was going through my pictures. I was smiling like my usual happy self, but you could faintly see the burns and scars on my wrist. There's a reason I wear long sleeves, but damn that picture for still being on my phone.
"I'm sorry!" he says as he's on his knees, wiping away his tears. Before I know it, he gathers his things and struts his way to the exit. "Beatles!" I yell, not bothering to move a muscle. "You said you won't forget me. We all begged Numbuh One not to forget us and he-he's still our friend. He goes to school here and he's friends with both of us. Wally...you don't think I really am stupid, do you? We're one in the same." He runs his fingers through his hair, taking in what I have to say. "Aren't we two if you do the math? Er, I don't mean Numbuh Two. I mean...Wait, what's three plus four? Ah! Who cares? You're you. I'm me. Something like that!"
I nod and continue on to what he has to say. "We live two different lives but that doesn't mean..." I begin to choke on my words. I look at him for the confidence I need to speak up. "It doesn't mean we have to be away from each other, right? We can't be friends any more, can we?" I do a terrible job at holding back my tears. I feel like a kid again with my uncontrollable crying.
He walks over and grabs my work off of the easel. "What are you doing?" I was afraid he was stealing it or doing something crazy, as always. "How did you plan on getting home?" he asks me. I answer, "Walking," without hesitating. "Then, come on. I'll give you a lift, friend." He grabs my hand to help me stand up. It takes awhile but with his help, I'm not shaking; I'm confident in myself and in him. "And just for the record, Kuki, I do draw."