I think I'm finally starting to go crazy.

No - I'm sure I'm losing my damn mind.

Eyes moving everywhere for no utter reason, breath coming short, unheeded sighs so out of character that it makes my friends worry. If nothing, I don't like it: making them worry. Never liked making anyone worry. (At least that part is normal.)

I'm waiting for a danger that's never going to happen.

I remember hiding in Dad's little closet, my small body chilling and heart beating like the strange hum of a goddamn truck. The grave wooden door hit Mom as I bolted away from her grasps and pushed it behind me. I remember that and then picture things that would've changed that situation and always call myself a pathetic cunt.

It's the same, even this - this mess I'm in.

The nightmare is over, but the aftertaste of gunpowder and blood remain.

I think my... friends, are starting to notice. Noticing that I may not quite be one of them. (I've seen blood, heard it being drawn from a well of darkness. And my body is tainted with the scent of opium.) Not quite apart from them either. (I still smile that 100 watt smile, still talk like someone who knows how to, I still remain happy.) Yeah, it's an awkward situation. And so, I often find myself without a partner - listening to the silence and silently cursing myself - and even less people to talk to.

It . . . doesn't hurt.

Because there's still Koh, Takato - people who love me. I find a certain kind of comfort because I know they will not leave me because of a teeny thing called change. I don't need people who call me friend and then leave me.

And because I have more time, I work much more. I think I'm close to having the money to actually have a 2Dk in the city now, congrats to me! I wear my dark circles like trophies.

(Fooling around is my duty now too. I actually got sir Asami the great listen to Taylor Swift - and sing along. Yeah, yeah. We shared an earphone too. Wouldn't want to disturb the neighbours, and as cheap as that excuse is; it worked.)

I don't buy concealer to cover kiss-marks anymore either. Maybe I picked that up from Feilong, who wears them like signatures. Maybe the beach too. I don't remember and I don't care.

I finally called dibs on the player named Life.

.

Asami comes back home early, and that's not a good thing for me, not at all. If you call an aching ass and disgusting cum dripping down your thighs good, there's seriously something wrong with your brain.

I do a ritual these days.

I call it: Takaba's at-home self confidence brightening treatment.

I go to the sink in the middle of the night (and try not to remember how his suit hugged his body snug and so right, and how those trousers fit to his ass - then did things that definitely weren't holy on my crotch - and that smug smile like he's hot and he knows it) and take a moment to observe me.

With all the dark circles, red lips and that little annoying stubble that never gets shaved.

And I think: I'm actually a good-looking guy.

'Very'ー That man said tonight. Arms wrapped so right around my waist like a petite yet protective ring. The warm breath on my ears I didn't know where its came from because I was blindfolded. I know I felt a rush of bravery through my heart that I so missed.

I can flirt with all the girls too, now. Just watch me, Asami. I'm calling shots on your harem.

.

But I'm still strange.

I'm just pushing it away. (Push it away. Deal with it later. And hope later never comes.) I look around the dark walkways and dim-lit hallways.

I walk faster.

I run. I have to get away. To preserve my freedom, myself.

I'm not safe here.

"OW!ー"

My cheeks are stretched by a much too strong hand. I pull at them because its seriously fucking starting to hurt, ow, ow, ow. I'm suddenly a kid again at Asami's hands.

"You're staring into space again. It's creepy."

"...You could've said that gently."

"I did say that gently." He lights a cigar, opening the newspaper like its the most normal thing to do. "And it's more amusing this way."

"...of course it is you sick bastard."

I wanna throw things at him. Mostly blunt heavy objects. I'm pretty sure my face reveals that, and then he shoots one of those impish smiles; mischievous in the way only he had the right to be. It melts me and he knows it.

Damn you prissy ass—

"I hate you."

Yeah. Yeah. He is one of the most normal things in my life. Stop nagging me to admit it already. I know it, I know that I'm much more myself when I'm with him.

And the most frustrating thing is: I don't think Asami Ryuichi even knows it.

(But I guess... Some things don't even need to be mentioned to be felt.)