The existence of people like Seiichi meant Renji was unnecessary. An excess who was there to make up for the numbers. And Renji was resigned to stare at talent and beauty from afar, as that was all he could do and life allowed him to do. Life was unfair like that.
And then, during the winter camp, Renji began to notice Seiichi's strange movements.
And then one morning he found his roommate unable to get out of bed, angry tears streaming down his face.
Life was, indeed, very unfair.
Sickness brought Renji closer to Seiichi. Or perhaps it brought Seiichi down to him. Renji never quite worked out which way it was. He found himself speaking to Seiichi more, telling him things he did not dare to speak about in the past, because Seiichi could not walk away. Renji could imagine this gap between them had vanished and Seiichi was listening because he wanted to, not because he had no choice and nobody else to listen to. He could sit, day and night, in the white room with four walls and flowers that changed every few days and pretend there was a closeness between them and that it had been there since the beginning. He could pretend that Seiichi wanted him to be there instead of just tolerated his presence and not asking him to leave, just out of politeness.
On the days when Seiichi was too weak to hold a book, Renji read for him. He read the notes from school, repeating them again and again at Seiichi's request. He read manga, which allowed him to sit on the side of Seiichi's bed to rest the Weekly Jump on Seiichi's lap, and they read everything from Hunter x Hunter to Ichigo 100. He brought in a portable DVD player and they watched all sorts of films together, always films with happy endings. Renji liked happy endings. Films were meant to be fake. Why choose sadness when one could have the opposite?
Seiichi seldom complained. But sometimes, delirious after his cocktail of drugs, he made strange demands. One of these occasions had seen Renji travelling to the other side of town to buy wagashi from Seiichi's favourite shop, and Seiichi, claiming no memory of the incident afterwards, enjoyed the sweets with a smile Renji classified as suspicious, but let pass. Happy endings were all that mattered.
And then on the day before Seiichi's operation, Renji ran out of things to do. He did not expect Seiichi to be awake when he got there. He offered to get a copy of Pro Tennis Monthly, but Yukimura said he would rather be left alone. Until after the operation, he did not want to see Renji again. Renji could not say he was surprised; he knew this would happen, because Yukimura was getting ready for the world again and Renji was once again an excess. He could not say he was angry, or even sad. He was just numb.
The world, Yukimura Seiichi knew, was not a fair place. Talent and beauty guaranteed nothing, yet separated people from one another. There were people who struggled and would be remembered for their plight. There were those who would try hard to achieve something and would see the result of their work and be praised for it. And then there were people who were classified as the geeks, the geniuses, who were expected to create miracles, and anything short of that was not enough. They were a lonely group who wished they had not been separated from everyone else and for them, normality was a luxury they could not afford.
Yet, what did anyone know? All that life had ever given him was a barrier assumed by too many people to be there, and for years he had tried to hack it down as he stared longingly at the other side of the fence. Life was unfair like that.
And then, he began to feel sick. Something rare and special, it was a disease that suited him. It took five months and four doctors to find out what it was.
And all of them failed to tell him it would cripple him so completely in front of Renji.
Life was, indeed, very unfair.
Sickness gave him what he wanted. It closed the assumed-gap between him and other people. It gave him an excuse to not be looked up to, to listen instead of lead, to have Renji close to him. Seiichi could image Renji talked to him because he wanted to, not because he had to fill the silence between them. He could sit, day and night, in the white room with four walls and flowers that changed every few days and pretend there was a closeness between them and it had been there since the beginning. He could pretend Renji wanted to be there, instead of staying by his side out of pity and obligation.
On the days when he could not feel most parts of his body, he listened to Renji read for him. He did not like the art in Hunter x Hunter and the vulgarity in Ichigo 100, but he enjoyed listening to Renji's quiet voice, reading for him, long fingers flipping through the pages and suffering papercuts because of him. He enjoyed watching films with Renji, although he thought happy endings were always so unreal for films that were meant to depict real lives.
Sometimes, when his body would not respond even when he touched his own most private parts, he sent Renji on errands. When he saw Renji come back with beautifully wrapped wagashi bearing the logo of his favourite shop, Seiichi could smile and think Renji had journeyed, taken trains and walked paths he did not know of, and brought back for him, life.
And then on the day before his operation, Renji was there, empty-handed, arriving soon after Seiichi tried to coax his body to life and once again failed. The numbness was not only in his extremities anymore. It became alive, it grew and it engulfed him. He could not look at Renji; he did not want Renji to see him this way, or allow himself to associate this feeling with him.
I don't want to be your true friend.
I don't want to be your hero.
I want to be selfish and greedy and not be made to feel guilty for it.
I want everything in the world.
I don't want to reach towards you.
Touch me.
I don't want to admire you.
Love me.
You are not mine to have.
Why don't you want me?
You are so much more than I can ever dream of.
Can I only have you at the sacrifice of me?
I am numb.
Save me.
coda
"Renji."
"How are you feeling?"
"Quite good. And better by the minute."
"That's good."
"Seiichi..."
"Yes?"
"I've been thinking, perhaps... when you're discharged, may be we can go to the cinema? I've read a few magazines and one of the new films seems to be quite good..."
"Ah..."
"It's fine if you don't want to go. I don't mind at all."
"Is it a happy film? Do you know?"
"Yes, that's what I've read."
"Then yes, let's go."
[end