12/31 late at night
It's the last day of the year. You lie in your bland bed, watching from the comfort of your granny flat how the world decides to celebrate the end of yet another December. You see fireworks and people dancing and drinking, cheesing and making funny faces at the camera and suppress a chuckle threatening to erupt. You couldn't dare laugh at a time like this. Not when it's only been a few days since the freshly upturned mound of earth became your grandmother's final resting place.
'Just a few more days and she could have seen the year grow out…'
A lump grows in your throat but you don't let it grow. You would have to be strong now. Tears are for the weak. So instead you wisely choose to turn down the TV volume and snuggle a little deeper into your bed. Rolling over to your side, you watch the walls glow green to blue to black to yellow, a mirror of the TV screen you turned away from.
BEEP!
Suddenly your phone cries a single tune and lights up. From the single note you can tell you've gotten a text message and decide not to read it. Perhaps it's an early happy new year message from a drunk friend. You were bound to get plenty of those tonight.
BEEP!
Your phone cries again. You curiously roll over to face the tea table where your phone charges every night and wonder how drunk your friend must be to have sent two messages in such quick succession.
BEEP!
Your phone cries once more and you grunt a little before heaving your lazy body up. You reach for the phone and flip it open. As you predicted, you got three messages, two from a friend whose text couldn't possibly be deciphered. A jumble of incoherent words misspelt and disturbingly lovey; undeniable proof that too much alcohol had been consumed tonight.
'Definitely drunk' you think and delete the messages instantly.
Then you scroll down the inbox till you find the only unread message left; one from a number you don't instantly recognise. You tilt your head in confusion but the number doesn't appear anymore recognisable than it did. Slumping back into the warmth of your blankets taking the phone down with you, you read the numbers on the screen carefully before choosing to open the title-less text message.
Happy new year. Sorry to hear about Grandma.
Two short sentences. You feel surprised and somewhat intrigued, that just from a two line message, a bolt of lightning strikes and you know who it's from. In your defence, no other relative you know could string two decent sentences together at a time like this. If you knew any better, your other relatives would probably be drunk and taken away by the police by now.
You ponder how the sender knew about grandma. You decidedly kept it from everyone until the very last minute. The sender, a far relative you've only heard about from cousins of cousins, wasn't even considered when you chose to let your grandma's passing be known.
But still, he knew and you wondered if you should reply.
'I should,' you think to yourself but find yourself hesitating. The sender was a mysterious person you wouldn't even know was your relative save for the sloppy secret keeping cousins you had. All you knew was his name, and that his parents died 10 years ago. Everything else remained as a mystery.
Then you think again and a small flame of empathy echoes from within. He was a lonely person. He lost his parents from a young age, just like you. Even now, he was alone, just like you are now.
You slip further into your bed, lying on your side and pulling your knees to your chin. The bed covers now cover your entirely so within the small cave of blankets you slowly type out a reply.
You too. Thanks.
Then you stop, think and with a quick movement hit send and squeeze your eyes shut. The damage is done and now you are talking to your ghost of a relative. You can only hope he isn't some creepy guy trying to check if you now lived alone for malicious intentions.
"God…" you whisper and kick your phone out of the bed out of self-inflicted frustration.
It drops to the floor with a small crash but you know it isn't broken. That brick will never die.
Out of the shock from falling, the screen on the front blinks the time at you and you peer at it.
11:59.
You hold your breath for the final minute of this year.
Then as the wall highlighted furiously by the fire-works riddled screen tumbles a rainbow of colours you murmur to yourself.
"Happy new year."
00:00.
1/8 Midday
You're back at school today and the world seems to have finally settled down from the initial euphoria of beginning a new year. The new year party suits and dresses were gone and the usual routine began again and you think how boring it is.
"You're not sleeping in my class, are you?" a strict voice jolts me upright like a whip ripping through the still classroom air. You shuffle uncomfortably in your seat while your classmates giggle at your embarrassment and you frown a little but don't make it show. Instead you mumble an apology and lower your eyes, hoping the apology was enough to satisfy your teacher.
Luckily, he is and you slump back down into your previous position, now slightly more aware of your surroundings and pick up your pen again. But what you fail to notice was that a message had arrived at your phone. It vibrates violently in your bag but you don't feel it. It wasn't until you got home after school that you see it and quickly flip the phone open.
It was the same number as new years eve and your eyes open wider in surprise. You didn't get a reply after your rather choppy message was sent and you didn't expect to hear from him again until the day you died.
You hastily open the message and scan the contents.
School is back. Uniform feels a little tight.
Again, all you have is two sentences. But you can see deeper into the situation surrounding your mysterious cousin.
School has started for him as well. He must be a student still. Assuming that he means school has only just recently started again, you throw a guess he's a high school student like yourself. The word uniform also implies this. You unconsciously drop your eyes to your own uniform and crease a little smile. Then he says the uniform feels a little tight. Maybe he's gained a bit of weight from the new years party? So he wasn't so lonely.
You flip the phone shut and imagine, a young parent-less lonely high school student who, somewhere up in the family tree, was your family, now having a fun life surrounded by others and eating good food. He complains a little about his weight, so he was health conscious or style conscious, you can't decide but you do know he is self- aware.
He bothered to message her, the other lonely child of the family, on new years eve and again maintaining that small chain of connection by sending her yet another message about a small event in his own life. You contemplate on the possibility that maybe he was a nice guy. Judging by how you look, he may not look terribly bad as well. Maybe he likes to listen to music as much as you do? Looking a little broody or dorky, depending on which way others want to see it, trapped between the notes exploding from the head phones?
Your imagination grows and grows until you find yourself smiling a stifled grin. You know it makes you look stupid but you can't help it. You cling to your phone and just sit on the bed wondering and wondering.
1/15 Night
BEEP!
A bus drove by spraying water all over me. I felt sick and drank a vial of God knows what and now I feel worse. Walking home I stepped in a puddle of… . So I went to the game arcade today to test my luck. Turns out I had to watch out for water today.
You giggle, reading over his text again. It was significantly long, or appeared so on your tiny phone screen but you don't mind. His texts grew in length with each message, a sign of growing confidence in his confidant with you and noticing this you feel somewhat pleased with the faith. You crinkle your eyes and make a delicate smile before rapidly typing back a reply.
Just your luck. I hope you get well soon. Did your friend end up making delicious rice-balls? Send me a photo of the dog you're raising at the dorm again, I think he's adorable.
Send.
You wait, sitting idly on your sofa, knowing that within a matter of minutes, the requested photo will be taken, and a reply to each part of your message will arrive.
You scroll back to your phone log and see messages sent and received are all between you and him. He seemed to know exactly how to respond to any topic you chose to start off with. No wonder he had so many friends in his dorm. She knew them all now too, not by their names but as he would introduce in his messages to her; cooking friend, high-class friend, athletic friend, cute friend, best friend.
BEEP! The phone rings again and you see an attached image of the dog you've come to love through still images. He was wearing wings today and looking straight into the camera with his pair of beady red eyes, as if he could see beyond the camera and right at you. In the background you see a row of sofa and pairs of legs resting comfortably on it and imagine it to be the friends of your relative.
A few seconds later following the image, a small text arrives.
I told him it's a photo for my relative. Apparently he says hi.
You giggle at the amused tone of his text, and indulge yourself in his words. Apprently? So he knows what the dog is saying? Or can the dog speak?
Your mouth is looped into a goofy smile and your fingers are already flying across the key pad typing letter by letter your words.
Tell him I say hi back.
1/30 late at night
Tonight, you find yourself caught in a little dilemma. For some reason tonight your usually short sentenced relative is sending lengthy sentences of text which seem to be about the topic of the newly spreading popular cult culture.
The way he writes sounds a little frustrated but mostly tired; tired of hearing people pray for the end of the world. A little angry at the world, but mostly a little tense, his words are rougher than usual. So you reply soft encouragements and practically just read his message after message, letting him vent through the phone. He'd been fine until just yesterday and you wonder what it could be all about. But you don't dare interrupt his rant and choose to lay low, until he blows some steam.
1/31 Early morning
Waking up dazed and confused, you quickly realise you fell asleep while reading your relative's latest rant and quickly check your phone. He had sent a few more after you dozed off but not getting any replies back, he seemed to have stopped sending messages. Wiping the hair out of your eyes, you readjust your body so the sunlight doesn't reflect off the screen you're trying to read and carefully structure out an apology and a fresh encouragement.
Sorry for the delay, I must've dozed off at some point. Are you feeling better today? It's a fresh morning, and probably a fresh start for you too. Try not to get too upset over the crazy things people do, but if you ever need to rant, I'm here for you.
Send.
2/28 Midday
You check your phone again, sneaking a peek from under the desk. Hoping that last vibration was from your relative, you steal a glance and sigh.
Again, it was a prank message from your friend, conscious of the fact that you haven't let go of your phone once since the beginning of the year. You throw the guilty friend a dirty look and get a good view of her poking tongue in response.
It had been over a month since you slipped up and slept through your relative's messages. You had sent him over a dozen messages between then and now, some apologising, some attempting mend the fence with a new topic of his interest. But he never replied. You couldn't tell if he was doing this purposely out of spite or if something had happened to him but it hurt all the same. But you decide to give him space and now you're playing the waiting game.
3/3 Midday
BEEP!
You tremble at the sound. Not only has your phone gone off in class and made the teacher spin around in angry astonishment, but you instantly had a feeling. A nostalgic feeling you knew who caused the phone to sing.
"Bring that phone here, now!" Your teacher yells and you pull back in your seat. Dodging curious glances from your watching friends, you pull out the offensive phone and quickly scroll through to the messages.
Your heart stops a beat.
You know that number.
It was your relative.
Out of the corner of your eye you can see the teacher stomping towards you to confiscate your phone but you can't let him take it now. You had to read your relatives message. Something inside you tells you it's important and keeps stinging at your heart.
You press open and the message loads. You hungrily read through his message.
Meet me. Iwatodai dorm 2nd floor, last room on the right. Bring your belongings.
"You dare bring your phone to school, missy?" Your teacher asks annoyed at you, creasing his eyebrows into a deep frown and you look back at him. He throws out his hand at you to flicks it a few times, wanting to take your phone from you. But you hesitate.
Your relative wanted to meet you. After over 2 months of silence, your relative invited you to meet him. You were not about to let your teacher stand in the way.
So defiantly you rise from your seat. Your fellow classmates and teacher look taken aback at your actions but cannot speak. It was your teacher who recovered first, his face firing up red dangerously as he yells impatiently. But you don't bother to listen. The consequences can come later.
You pick up your bag and shove your school belongings in them. You plan in your head as this happens:
first you'll go home and take a few clothes, then take the train to this Iwatodai, and ask around for the dorm. You'll finally get to see your relative and know he does genuinely exist in real life.
"I'm leaving." You announce to your teacher mid-way through his yells. He stops dead when you cut his words and appears at a loss. You couldn't care less. Right now, Iwatodai is the place for you to be, you think.
Moving before your thoughts had caught up with your body, you circle around the teacher now appearing gobsmacked as if you'd just punched him in the gut. Then with a brisk pace, you walk to the classroom door, slide it wide open then step outside. A cheer erupts from your classroom and you smile smugly while imagining your relative.
'I'm coming for you.'
First ever persona fic, written while watching the sunrise.
Hope you enjoy,
Helst.
