I feel nothing. That's not a problem, as I learn. I fake. I control. All my life, I've been faking this happiness I've grown a mutual affection to. I like it, almost. However, no matter how hard I try, I know I'm not feeling true happiness.
Then... he came into my life. Though I try to make myself noticable to him, he's just calm. Without emotion even, but not in the same way I don't feel alive. Tucking himself away under the guise of being an excessive bookworm. I see through him. I want his true self, all for me.
Quiet, he is, almost like my brother. I love it. He fills up my life after a seemingly joyful childhood.
Another person, coming back into my life unannounced. A bro, you could say. Arthur is different. He doesn't approve of me at all, always angry. I take after him almost. Why does he need to be friends with him? Is Francis not enough for you? He doesn't care about Kiku the way I do. He doesn't need Kiku the way I do. He doesn't have the willpower to devote himself to him fully. But I do. Days of hoping that friends would be in the past, and a new era would blossom with love.
The emotion of love is my full dedication, dear. Nothing more, nothing less.
Less of a Heart: One and Only
"Matthew, little bro, pass the syrup," I said, smiling more than usual. Matthew sighed and slid the canister down the table. He began to eat his syrup-flooded pancakes. An average morning was in place, the two brothers shared a breakfast together before their first day as seniors.
I chuckled slyly, "I still remember the last dance we had, when Elizaveta dunked Roderich's and Gilbert's faces into the punch bowl to get them to stop bickering." Matthew laughed in response, cheering him up.
"And when Mathias kept trying to outdo you in breakdancing, and almost sprained his foot?" Matthew stopped laughing, noticing his pancakes were getting soggy. I still had the pictures. It's nice for me to practice a suitable laugh once a while.
"Hurry up. We're almost late..," Matthew softly said, trying to lift his booksack.
I was attempting to see why Matthew was struggling by seeing through his mesh booksack. "New textbooks?"
Matthew admitted nervously, "I'm taking French, and Francis gave me an extra textbook to help me. He loves how I'm taking "his" language." I muttered. It's always the people who actually notice him.
"I'll carry it then," I offered, waiting. Matthew declined, preparing to try again. Makes it all the more surprising when you see him in the ice rink. I'm still kind of mad about football tryouts, they said I was "too aggressive." Didn't aggression help you win? I just needed something to distract me from talking with people. They just don't get it. I slammed the door behind me.
I try not to make any movement in homeroom, trying to desperately find a seat. I couldn't sit by Gilbert, he was already in a well established trio. Arthur made no sign of ever wanting to talk to people. Yao was... there. I'm not sure why I'm suspicious, but my gut feeling says something's up with him. Everyone was in a group against me. Matthew waved, but did I really want to sit by him? I want the best for him. I want for him not to be distracted by my mess-ups.
My instincts tell me to go to the back. It's logical, the people who don't want to be here sit here, so the teacher doesn't care what we do. There was only one seat available. Next to a black haired person reading a comic book. Guess I could get along with him. I sit down.
The comic book doesn't have superheros on it, which disappoints me a little. Secondly, it's backwards, which is new. The person sitting there just flipped the pages, one by one. Not speaking to me.
"What's... your name?" I ask him after he flips a page. He puts up his pointer finger, shushing me. He reads a few more pages, sets a bookmark in, and puts it down.
"It's Kiku Honda," he greeted, holding out his hand. I shook it, instantly noticing the softness. I want to hold it more, but he puts in back. Not a fan of hand to hand contact. I need to know more about him, but my heart's racing too fast for me to say anything. I look down at the ground. I think I can make this work.
"Rise for the pledge, students." And so, my classes began.
The class before lunch break, gym, I decided to draw a bit over my daily planner, while the gym teacher talks about gym bag procedures. It may not be perfection, but I enjoy it.
Before the teacher sends us out to jog, I draw a heart around Kiku's name on the roster of people signing up for after-school help this week. I add my own name. Seeing him makes it worth an extra hour of school. I feel a form of happiness that is my own. I have a feeling of peace. I get a quick idea, it's not that well formed out, but I start. I hear what sounds like a little gasp of surprise from him as we file out. I skip to the back of the line and get a piece of paper out and write a note. Not a love letter, as I feel that would ruin my chances, sadly.
"Dear Kiku," I write in loopy cursive. I don't want to sound too formal, but I'm afraid what Kiku might think, "I wanted to invite you to sit at my table at lunch, as an offering of friendship. I hope you will accept my offer. Sincerely, Alfred." Would this fail? Probably, I think as I slip the note into Kiku's lockers, finally discovering the use of the little slits in the metal. I went into the gym to recieve a lecture about being late.
When lunch started, it seemed like my heart soared. I walk into the cafeteria to skim the tables for our table. We were the loud ones, I guess. I didn't find Kiku. He was sitting at one of the back tables, still reading. Did I get denied? Did he not like my table, or me?
"Hey, Kiku..." I started talking. He looks at me, confused.
Kiku sighed, and closed his book, "Who are you?"
"I'm Alfred, from homeroom. We sit next to each other. Can I sit here?" I pulled out a chair and gave him a warm smile. Out of the corner of my eye, I see the trio running across the room to me. I figured it was because I didn't sit at their table.
Gilbert almost yelled as he tried to keep his voice low, "Long summer, huh? I totally got all of the babes!" Francis rolled his eyes a little and laughed.
"I, myself, had a passionate and tragic once in a lifetime romance revisited, but sadly, it could not work," Francis covered his face.
"Code for he failed–" Gilbert reached out to high five Antonio, who shushed him. They kept bragging on and on.
Kiku slammed his book close and said calmly, "Please leave this table, Alfred. I'm sorry, but your friends are disturbing me..." I feel a surge of hatred towards them, who don't even acknowledge my anger. Is this what everyone puts up with when I hang out with them?
"Go away, guys. I'm trying to talk with Kiku," I raise my voice, restraining from grinding my teeth.
Francis chuckled, "I got the message." Antonio looked at him and smiled. Inside jokes... Gladly, not all of the cafeteria heard that, as the trio isn't known for secrecy.
"Are they serious about that? I don't see myself... like that," Kiku shifted his eyes, and held his hands up in defense. Of all the people, this was the one person to get the joke.
Alfred stuttered anxiously, "No, not at all. You know jokes, right? That was one of them. I definitely don't see myself marrying you at all." Adopting a few kids, living in a house with a white picket fence, living together happily forever without anybody getting in the way.
"Okay then?" Kiku started to begin to finish the book, probably thinking I'm weird.
That went terribly. I think I have a problem that needs to stop. And that's a fact.