Note:
To zhane17, when I thought of this prompt from you, I found it the most challenging stuff to do. (Not to mention that all the prompts you suggested are urging me to write them all.) Thanks for this, and I hope I do this justice. OH GAUSS, this is keeping me insane.
- INVERTED -
(Kagamine Len)
"I love you." I told her about my feelings once, but it was unrequited. She hated me with all passion, for she believed that we couldn't be together.
It was a great morning we were having. Well, at least for me 'twas great. The calm morning breeze made me feel fresh as I crossed the street and went straight to the Hatsune doorway. The atmosphere felt so calm and cool, grazing my skin with the right amount of coldness as I ran across the street. My steps were soundless as though it wished me to surprise them, to surprise her.
The Hatsune family. My family had been good friends with them for a long time now. They were the hospitable neighbors one could have, since they were the only ones who welcomed us when we moved in. I could still remember how I used to spend mornings in their playroom with their three children—they were only three that time: Piko,Dell and Miku. Their house was so near, crossing the road would bring me there in a jiffy. Basically, I spent most of my childhood days with them and in their playroom, back to those days when mom and dad were too busy to hire a nanny to look after me.
I entered their lawn and jogged straight to their doorway. The French door swung open before I could knock on it. It was as if they had sensed my presence, or they just realized that I would not cease picking up their sister every time of this month. Piko and Dell were the eldest children of Mr. and Mrs. Hatsune, two years older than me. They must be twenty-and-five now. Thugs, I called them that way because they had this gangster-vibe around them, like they were going to punch a face that seemed unnerving to them. My face atop their list. Piko and Dell were known for starting fights with other students, whether it is just their trip or not. There were times I feel scared around them, but their sister always with me made me feel I'm safe. That's why I'm closer to her than these twins.
Back in high school, the two white-haired twins were our upperclassmen who always tagged along with us. By us and our, I meant to include their sister – or the self-claimed brother – who was as old as me, and was actually my best dude. The four of us were known in the campus as the royalties, being the top-male students every girl and guy could possibly desire. Yes, that's right. Even if their sister was a girl, she wasn't a girl at heart.
I tried to smile at these thugs, but my charming smile had no effect on them. They were straight. The two cocked their brows higher than usual, more skeptic towards me than the past months. Judging from the looks they were giving me, they were still wishing me to stop visiting her. Well, even if they knock me down every day, I wouldn't be stopped from coming over to see her. I needed to see Miku and she had no other choice anyway.
"Hi, Lenny!" a teal-haired boy shoved the twin's legs from blocking the door. He was the youngest Hatsune, only five, and the friendliest among the siblings. He ran to me and extended his short arms upward, hopping like a giddy kid he usually was.
"Hey, Mikuo!" I greeted and picked him up, making the kid yell in enjoyment. Mikuo always wanted to be lifted by someone tall enough to make him feel like he was flying. "How are you doin' buddy? Where's your sis?"
"She's upstairs, waitin' for you. She really had a big ball hidden in her belly! I wanted to borrow it but she wouldn't let me," Mikuo pouted and that quadrupled his cuteness. He was Miku's boy-version. Miku probably wished she was Mikuo instead.
Before I could answer MIkuo's innocent blabbering, Piko pulled him away from me. The twins were still glaring at me as if seeing my face was a daily reminder that I shouldn't be trusted. For the last eight months, these twins made me feel unwelcomed in their house.
"My, my, Mikuo, you ain't goin' to listen to this perv." Piko said and turned his back, walking inside the house. I was now left to face Dell alone. That was the least thing I wanted to happen, being this man possessed the bluntest tongue given to earth.
"Why are you here, Len? Are you here to jack off to our sister, again?" Dell was as scary as shit. Those bloody red contacts he was wearing left me the impressions that I wouldn't live another second if I talk back — so I better swallow all the explanation I was unable to tell these brothers for the past eight months. "Come in." He stepped back to give me some way. He still emitted this ninja-like aura that I dreaded for all these years I was with them.
If he would say "come in", why did he have to make such drastic opening remarks? Let the past be left in the past, we should all get over from it. The last time I came here, he asked me if I know the existence of protections. Dell bluntly said that maybe if the use of such thing came into my mind, Miku wouldn't end up this way. Biologically, Miku would end up this way if she wasn't a homosexual. But this accident, I altered her desired life. I am guilty.
No, I didn't mean to sound like a badass there. What I meant was that, it would take a male and female to make a baby; I knew you get what I meant. I wasn't against the third sex, after all Miku was one of them. Our story was just an amazing plot twist.
I watched Piko play with Mikuo seated on his shoulders, the two of them went running round and round in living room while Dell closed the door after me. He nodded at me, gesturing me to go upstairs and at the same time, hinting that their parents were not around. I muttered a soft 'thank you' but he only glared. Trying my best to smile, I walked upstairs and turned on the corridor. Miku's room was second to the left.
When I opened the door, the first thing I noticed was the green foliage in view from her window. And she was there, standing before her window while peeking behind her curtains. She still had those sad eyes and never-smiling face. Her maternity dress swayed around her as she turned to face me; her eyes dodged my gaze. Every time. I reached out for her, and she coldly took my hand.
I pressed my ear against the bump on her belly. There were grumbling noises and movements I could hear and feel; the baby was probably excited to get out. She was there for eight months already, isolated from the world where her mom and I were living in. There was no need to deny the smile drawing on my face as I sat up again, the woman bearing this child came in sight.
She averted her eyes from me, refusing to meet my gaze. Her long teal locks were in disarray as she lay down on the bed. It was a refreshing sight to see her that way, for she would normally keep her hair tied in a pony and never let it down. But this change, I wasn't sure if she liked it. I would be lying if I said I didn't like this change on her. She was so feminine right now.
She tugged on the hem of her shirt and dragged it down to cover her exposed baby bump. It must be cold, I bet. Her prenatal checkup was just finished, and I only wanted to have contact with our baby. She was so close when I pressed my ears against the bump. I wonder
if the baby felt me when I leaned to her.
She tried getting up and succeeded doing so. I knew she wouldn't want me to help her, because the last time I did, she punched me square in the gut. Her uneasiness resurfaced as she pulled back her long skirt to cover legs; she began tugging something on her sleeve and grumbled weird throaty grunts.
"Hey, what's the matter?" I moved my chair nearer to her. She was probably feeling itchy there or something. Could it be rashes or some skin allergy? She could not take in a medicine for that.
She glared at me, those blue orbs burned with rage. "This bra strap is too tight."
I smiled at her, dumbfounded. "Bra?"
She clenched her fists, throwing back a hand to tug something at her shoulders, beneath her shirt, until it made a loud snap. Eh?
"Oh? Oh! Bra!" Shit. Real shit. I scratched the back of my head, my grin probably was uncalled-for. "How can I help you?"
"Remove my breasts. So I won't need one."
"Miku, don't say bad things!" I said, patting her head. But like an unfriendly dog, she gritted her teeth.
"Don't go friendly around me, you know." She snapped, slapping my hand away. "It's your entire fault, you jerk." She looked away, cheeks burning with redness. Whether her face was reddening because she was mad or embarrassed, I wasn't the one to tell. "Your responsibility is this child residing in my womb and not me, so don't act like you're a good husband and all."
I wouldn't mind being knocked down by her twin brothers; I wouldn't mind being humiliated every time we come for her monthly checkups; I wouldn't mind if she would throw all gifts I had given her. But whenever she would snap at me like this, I came to rethink whether we used to be best buddies back in our good old days. Her words were always spoken with harshness. I was acquainted with that attitude; she was a rough person before. But I never experienced this harshness directed to me. It was making my heart ache.
Again and again, whenever these words declaring her hatred towards me were voiced, I only had one thing left to say.
"Oh, I'm sorry."
(Hatsune Miku)
I watched him cross the street like the excited boy he always was. The way his golden forelocks bounced in his every step, the way his lips tug to form a smile . . . I would not deny that they made my heart skip a beat. I wasn't smitten with these little things about him back then, because I grew up believing we were the same. He and my brothers — we were all the same, that we were all boys. That was until I realized I wasn't one.
I crumpled the part of the curtain I was holding to see him running his way here. Every month, he would always be as punctual as this, so we wouldn't miss my prenatal checkup. Especially now that I'm on my eight month, he was more than excited.
I wasn't supposed to feel anything towards him other than hatred — for the things he did to me were unforgivable, some couple of months ago. I loathed him as if he had not been my best dude since kindergarten; I hated him like every marred girl would scream whenever a cockroach come flying by. He stood by the doorway and faced my twin brothers. It would be the best if they would stop picking up on him by now, because I wouldn't waste my energy going downstairs to yell them to stop. Walking up to my room back and forth had never been this tough job — well, not after I looked like I swallowed a whole watermelon unsliced.
As I realize that I am wishing that he will safely pass through my brothers, my hatred towards him betrayed me. It is not hatred anymore. It is something I never thought I am capable of feeling towards my preferred gender. The impossibility downsized to the smallest possible ratio until it is converted to its antonym, and right now, I can feel my heart beating like the crazy drum roll when announcing a contest winner.
Len is a boy, he is always a boy. I always wish that I am, too, because boys can do a lot of things without their parents scolding them. If my memory doesn't fail me, I remember this kind of envy started when I am five. My brothers can fight each other, punch their faces for all they want, but mom and dad won't care. They do enjoy, that is evident, as if they are invincible and immune to pain. That urged me to join, but mom stopped me.
She said girls don't do that.
Girls can't play with boys. She can't sit with her legs widely spread — like what boys will do. We can't run around topless because we will soon be ladies, even if becoming a lady will take half a decade before we hit puberty. We can't litter our rooms and we shall help in house chores. We are only made to be fine housecleaning beings at our modest. We can't help our dads fixing the car and getting the dark greasy marks on our skin, and we can't roll on the lawn and laugh like a mad clown.
This and that, and all rules I hated to hear—mom told me all of these, until one day she stopped. She was busy putting a part of our lunch in a separate bowl. She was so cheerful that time, I could tell. She was yelling dad's name because they would see the new neighbor. What's with new neighbors? I wasn't aware. When dad climbed downstairs, he was as excited as mom, and together they went off. I climbed back to my room and watched them knock on the new house across the street, and when the door sprung open, a young blond boy greeted them.
Mom almost hopped in joy that time. The boy's parents followed him, opening the door fully until one could see their empty house from the doorway. They accepted mom's cooked present, exchanging huge smiles that appeared surreal to me. What followed this common scene shocked me, because they let the boy come with my parents back to our house.
That time, every new family that moved in the neighborhood was greeted by mom and dad. I wasn't sure why so, but when I was younger, they always chased cute daughters of our neighbors. But now, they were after . . . a boy. It was the first time my parents were seen normal by a newly moved-in, for the entire neighborhood thought they were psychopaths. Well, they were both doctors — dad was a neurologist and mom was a psychiatrist. They were always busy, and they could not give us a firsthand care. But whenever they would stay indoors, the only thing I was hearing from them were the corrections of how girls should be girls, and boys should be boys.
"Miku! You have a new playmate here! Come down, dear!"
A playmate for me? How puzzling. Isn't the kid supposed to be my brothers' playmate? I expected them to bring a girl not a boy. How weird. I went out of my room and met my parents with the boy, letting him in the playroom. When I blankly went inside, my brothers were cheering as they greeted him.
The whole time I spent sitting in the playroom, my parents were on guard. They would persuade me to play with him, or him to play with me, but I was awkward and wouldn't do anything. I wouldn't do anything that would lead my parents humiliating me in front the new kid. However, as I refrained myself doing anything, it disappointed my parents.
It was weird to see them allow me deal with a boy. I couldn't figure out why I was permitted to associate with him, why was I forced to be with him, but I never said that it was indifferent. I actually felt happy when they seemed not to care when Len and I would chase each other on our lawn; my parents would allow me to sleepover in Len's house. They wouldn't care. They wouldn't mind. And back then, I was clueless what they were up to. So, I enjoyed the liberty and loathed the spoken rules that limited me as a girl. Whenever I was with Len, I was free to do ungraceful stuffs that I was more comfortable doing.
It was not surprising that we went to the same school when we started studying. He and I as classmates appeared manipulated, and it took me five more years why was that so. The two of us would always sit next to each other, to share lunches, to copy each other's works when one of us forgot to do our homework. Len and I would prank some of our classmates at sometimes. These made our times together fun.
I was fifteen when I realized that I wasn't normal. Len and I were resting on the outdoor bench that time, gasping for air like two wild dogs from a hunt. He told me that there was a girl from the next class that caught his attention. I was curious because he was rarely interested with girls, so I asked him to show her to me.
We were like stalkers hiding together behind a post. It was our study hall and luckily, the girl had the same break with ours. She was there, sitting with her friends like a goddess. She was laughing gracefully and all, flipping her long pink hair back. Len liked a goddess. And he wasn't the only one smitten. The attraction I felt lasted for how many months, and I did my best to hide this kind of difference that I possessed. If my parents would know about this, I'm dead.
"Len."
The two of us were sitting there like two exhausted frogs, staring at the sunlight peeping through the gaps of the leaves. This was a beautiful komorebi glittering on us. I turned my head lazily to Len, only to see that he was already looking at me, waiting for me to continue whatever I would say. I grinned at him like an idiot and talked.
"Can I tell you something?"
He snickered, unused to my seriousness. I wasn't the type of person who would suddenly open up a sappy talk, or any other heart-to-heart talk. His eyes were beaming with mockery before he finally addressed my, well, seriousness.
"Go ahead, Miku."
"Will you hate me?"
His arm dropped around my shoulders as his other hand and ruffled my hair; he laughed like a sly man. "Dude, nothing looked hateful about you. Say it, now."
I quickly jolted away from him, my gracelessness showed off. I slapped his stomach as I lurched away. "I'm the one doing drama here, man! Don't steal the mushy aura!" we laughed. "Well, I like Luka. Your crush."
"Of course, she is like a role model to any girl. You want to be as pretty as her? Nice!"
"No," he doesn't get it right. "I like her to such extent that I want to date her," his eyes widened. I saw this coming. "I'm a gay."
I thought he wouldn't understand me, but he smiled. Len grumbled something before flashing his killer smile (that had no effect on me), and said, "Well, I would prefer if you're bisexual, or something like that. But it is okay, you're still not dislikeable."
"Why would like me to be a bi instead?"
We locked our gazes for some minutes. His answer was a silent smile that I could not decipher the meaning. The real meaning of his reaction, it remained vague until that day. The gender I claimed I was? It was now in the dark.
I'm changing.
(Kagamine Len)
Our drive home was quite awkward. After Miku snapped at me, her coldness seared my face. I could not break such thick silence, because once I broke it, there would be no reason left for me to see her. She could always ask her brothers to knock me out and never allow me in their premises. To think of it, only her parents and I were the delighted ones that I got Miku impregnated.
She was seated next to me as I steered the wheel; her arms crossed against her chest. Her stare extended to miles ahead us without any particular object worth looking. As I glance at her simple beauty, I wanted to relive the moments I spent with her . . .
. . . because this is the only thing that repairs my heart every time she breaks it.
I was only five when we moved in the same town with the Hatsune's. It was an awkward meeting. When her parents offered help in unpacking, my mom asked the favor to look after me instead. I was surprised when Miku's mom looked delighted by that, but I thought of it cool. Who on earth had the energy to look after other's child, anyways?
When I was ushered inside their playroom, Miku caught my attention first. She was a timid girl who would only sit on a corner and spend the ticking seconds in silence. Her parents wanted her to play with me, but she would only sit close and continue her silence. She looked entertained when watching her brothers play, and so she wouldn't move to play on her own. Right then I could not imagine the two of us getting along. She was shy; I was a pretend-shy…yeah.
Or so I thought.
Her parents let her come over to our house. That was my first time seeing her expression priceless. Her eyes sparkled with wonder as if she was a free bird, and she wandered and laughed and played in our house. We talked—for the first time—and played my cars and little soldiers; we made a tent in my room by tying my blanket on the posts of my bed and pretended that we were in a military camp.
One time, we were lying on our stomach, peeking on our imaginary sniper rifle directed to their house. I was seven this time and we just finished doing our homework together.
"Psht. Miku. Can you hear me?"
"Psht. Roger that, Len."
"Psht. I want to ask something."
"Psht. Go ahead."
"Psht. Don't you want to play princess and prince with me?"
"Psht. If I'll be the prince, it'll be fine. Psht."
Miku wanted to be a prince. I thought it was just because she was not allowed to do what she wanted to do when at home, but as we grew older I realized that she grew up envious of the freedom her brothers get. She told me that whenever she was with me, she felt like her real self. Her inner self believed that she was meant to be a guy, not a girl, thus this explained Miku. Her boyish figure pushed away her femininity. My presence made her feel safe to show her true persona, so I was like a haven to her.
Ever since I realized that I liked her (I was nine that time), I felt like the two of us were inseparable. We did most of the things that could be done together. Seatmates in class, in school bus, in the bus for the field trip. We shared the same tent during the summer camp; we bathed in the river together; we rode coaster rides side by side. Sometimes she would come to sleepover—or the other way round. Miku and I stuck like glue together. And day by day, my feelings for her grew.
Albeit she was more vocal and meaner than me, that didn't stop me from liking her. But it was frustrating because my feelings remained unnoticed for what seemed to be an eternity. We continued to hangout together with her brothers, prank students in our middle school, hog the sandwiches in the cafeteria, and take home all the academic awards. Our deeds were repetitive but never mundane.
As long as I am with her, there will be no dull moments.
But things change and that is inevitable. Puberty has done good enough to stir our hormones and establish obvious differences. I won't lie about this, but I once ogle her whenever we are given a private time, specifically when she will camp in my room with her big blue pillow. The curves of her body emphasize that we can no longer be so buddy-buddy when we're together. But again, she is Miku and I am like a place where she can be unfettered.
Miku would barge in my room. Her entrance always startled me because whenever she came unannounced, I was always in my boxers. But she never looked disturbed to see her best dude in his underpants. Well, she had two brothers so the sight might be common. She would jump on me and slump on my stomach — hard fall was that — and I would groan for fifteen minutes because she was heavy. She would kick me out of my bed and roll all over it as if she was the real owner. I wanted to fight back, yes. But the last time I did that when we were already teens, I groped her in the wrong places when I was supposed to wrestle her like those we had seen in WWE. In a nutshell, I lost concentration and she beat the crap out of me.
One night she barged in again, it was summer and she was wearing her usual pajamas. The scowl on her face told me that she never liked this specific humid night, the air felt thick and sticky. It was an uncomfortable night, mind telling you. The air conditioning unit of my room broke — and she said hers was broke too. Her mom advised her to sleepover with me; however Miku found no refuge in my room. I was wearing a sleeveless shirt that night to freshen me up, with my windows wide open. Without another word, Miku marched to my closet and pulled out one of my boxers, claiming that she would borrow it for a moment. We were fifteen this time, some months before I learned that she was a lesbian.
"Hey, what the fuck are you doing?" I threw the book I was reading to steal back my boxer shorts, but she tugged on the waistband of her pajamas and stripped in front me. Like the hell, I was so . . . I was a growing boy, okay? Piko and Dell taught me that to see a girl that way was some sort of victory. But as I stared at her as she got rid of her pajamas, her legs granted me an awesome show. She was a woman. Miku was a woman. That's what I thought and watched her put on my shorts and pushed me away.
"You wouldn't mind if I borrow this, right? My bros won't let me borrow theirs. It's hot you now. I don't like it when my legs sweat." She shrugged and hogged the bed all to herself.
I stood there, dumbfounded. "Yeah, you're hot."
"What?"
Shit. Real shit. I laughed. "I mean, you're hot, the weather is . . ." I swallowed the lump in my throat, "—hot."
After that incident, I never tried to let my hormones take me over and blurt things as embarrassing as that. Miku would never care anyway, because she would only see me as a bro, dude, buddy, and all sorts—but my feelings wouldn't reach her even if it would travel at the speed of light. When I lied to her, telling that I got a crush on Piko's type — this was Luka from the other class, it led Miku to confess her real self. A girl attracted to the same sex. I wished her to be bisexual instead; at least I would have a chance to get my feelings for her confessed, if that was so. However, that time I would be able to tell her the truth felt like it would never come.
Miku and I drew closer to each other as I slowly embraced her true persona. The "she" that would wear jeans and a plain band shirt, with her long hair always caught up in a pony — the "she" that was hiding her real identity from her family and society, remained safe by my side. I treated her - the way she wanted to do, and our closeness to one another amplified. I wanted to make her feel that she was accepted and there was nothing wrong in showing it. Miku wanted to cut her hair short but her mother never wanted to trim it, in which I was thankful.
Our days became more fun when we comment about the pretty girls in school—those girls she wished to confess her liking but never tried to, because she was afraid to get discriminated. I remembered this talk when we were eighteen, and Mikuo was newborn. They must be happy when guys ask them out, she told me one day while we watched wrestling mania in my room. Miku was slouching on my bed, munching the chips she brought with her. Her eyes were lackluster and unhappy, spacing out to the TV. I knew what she felt, that emptiness filling you because you could not tell the person you like the most about your feelings. It depressed her, somehow. That was evident.
"What about you? If you are a girl at heart, what will you feel?" I snatched the bowl of chips from her. Miraculously, she didn't punch me.
"I might reject him." She sighed. "Guys only wanted to bang girls and get all pleasure, you know. I heard Piko and Dell talk about some perverted shit when they left their room open. 'Twas weird, Len. Disgusting too. Why would people fuck people when they never intend to get married?"
Miku looked at me. "Are you that kind of guy?"
That exact moment, I saw a different Miku. The Miku speaking beside me was a woman. Not the self-claimed man she was. I thought I understood her. My hands moved on their accord, pushing her down the bed. She was just a cocking a brow in bewilderment, but never assaulted me with her fists. Why would people do that when they wouldn't marry? I don't know. But if I do her . . . maybe I can make her understand that I am willing to tie the knot with her.
I leaned down to her, my forehead rested against hers. The pressure my hands were giving on her shoulders went out of control, my grip felt like I could tear her arms away. A kiss wouldn't hurt, right?
But my spinning thoughts halted when she put her hand to my face, throaty voice grumbled, "Len, get your balls together before I chop them away so you can't reproduce. You horny teen,"
"Wha—" I immediately pushed myself up and helped her sit. At the end of the day, I was the only one awkward. Miku acted like nothing happened.
Beginning that day, I restrained myself staring too much at her because it was tempting.
(Hatsune Miku)
I struggled to suppress my silence. Since when did I play hide-and-seek of feelings? With Len seated by my side, I could hardly contain this throbbing organ in my chest. Never in my entire life that I felt such attraction towards a man because I thought I wasn't capable of falling in love with boys. Even if I pretended to zone while he drove me home, my mind screamed for me to talk and break this silence.
I should have not snapped at him earlier, because I have always wanted to talk to him. But as seconds turned to minutes, quietness stretched us apart. This whole setting is eating me up. My heart pounds against my chest like a mad prisoner wishing to be released from his cell. It is strange, this feeling is—the silence, too—so how will I handle this?
"Stop the car." I massaged my temples, trying to calm myself.
His unbreakable concentration faltered, his blue eyes finally landed on me. Those freaking gorgeous eyes—the eyes that enticed me one hazy night of desires, I never wanted to stare back at them. They were luring me away from masculinity.
"What? What's the matter?" He stammered over his words as he quickly turned to park the car.
"Just stop the car." I said, clutching a handful of my skirt. Talk to me, Len. The silence is killing me. Ain't that obvious?
"We're on a parking lot. Are you hungry?"
I looked at him but I didn't hold his gaze more than two seconds. "Probably."
"What do you want to eat?"
"Anything."
Len left the car. Wait? A real man should not leave a girl alone! I went out of the car, stomping towards him while I put a hand at my small back. It was aching for some days already, but it was still a month before my scheduled delivery. The wonders of human body are as confusing as my conflicted feelings.
"Len!" He looked at me, saucer-eyed. "What on earth are you doing? Where are you going? Are you insane?"
The blond walked to me, his expression remained puzzled. "You want me to grab something to eat, right?"
Without any hesitation, I kicked his balls. His eyes looked like it would fall out of his skull as he crouched down, holding on his precious treasures. His thick skull always made him dense, as slow as he was when he couldn't understand that the girls trailing after him in high school liked him.
"You never learned a thing from me at all! You shouldn't leave girls around. What if I give birth in all of a sudden and you're nowhere? Are you thinking, huh? Stop acting like a numskull when you perfectly know how to do me, jerk!"
I know that I am attracting quite a number of audiences—as if I care, anyway. He remained curling like a fetus around my feet, groaning like an injured dog. Well, that must hurt. He didn't move for a minute, so I shrugged a foot, signaling him to stand up.
"I'm sorry," he mumbled, gripping my ankles. "I'm sorry."
He shouldn't be sorry. I was at fault. I was always at fault, but I never apologized. I should be the one apologizing, however I never tried. Even that night, it was also my fault but I was pointing him all the blame. It was unfair for him, I knew.
Life is a big game of hide-and-seek.
The girl I liked in high school became a friend when we studied in the university. Luka was a beautiful woman who knew how to please people. She was nice to everyone, so she had a lot of friends. My real identity was kept a secret between me and Len (well, we took the same program, Len and I) and Luka was never suspicious of it.
Luka said that my boyish demeanor was likeable, that it seemed natural. When I asked her if it was weird, she told me it wasn't. There were lots of girls who acted the same in her program and most of them were homosexuals. The idea of homosexuality appeared distorted and corrupted to her, but Luka claimed that she wasn't totally against it. Upon hearing those words, the months I had spent with her as a university friend faded away. I thought she was fine having those people around her, but she wasn't. Seeing girls being intimate to each other romantically was something Luka couldn't tolerate. It was awkward, she claimed, ranting about how she despised the idea that women could be together not as friends.
I was deceived. The whole year I was with her as a friend, I thought everything was fine for Luka. She acted cool to anything, unbiased with every opinion and treatment she would tell and show to people. When I spent my vacant hours with her, I thought she'd be like Len. But I was deceived. She was only being nice. Good thing, we'd be graduating in a week from now, so I'd probably get over from her.
Len noticed how I flinched with her words at that time; the three of us were having our lunch in a fast food restaurant. He even gave my hand a squeeze under the table. I felt so pathetic against Luka, and the next thing I wanted to do was to storm out of that place. But before I could leave, she asked us to come to her house for her birthday party. "Bring some clothes, 'kay? There will be a cross-dressing event. I am expecting to see the two of you there, cool with that? Bye!"
The real "me" felt so misplaced. Maybe I was born in the wrong place, wrong time, and wrong body. My family utterly disapproved of my boyish figure. But when Len was around and the two of us would act like the best dudes we were, my mom was the happiest person alive. She would not comment on how Len and I would knock down each other when we fight for Hershey's chocolates. Mom never looked bothered when Len would drop an arm around me all the time, sticking close with me rather than my brothers. When I was younger, I thought it was weird. But now that I was grownup, I understood what mom was trying to do.
She wanted to put me in the place where I truly belonged. And that was where girls belonged. The wrong place, the wrong time and wrong body — mom was trying to correct me in everything by raising me with an opposite sex unrelated to me.
Little did she know that I was the opposite now. All these years I was exposed to Len, I never felt the slightest attraction to him. I grew up thinking that we were expected to get along together, to become best buddies for life. However, I also bore the thinking that Len and I were equal. As we were taught about the reproductive system in middle school, I realized that we weren't equal.
When I accidentally read mom's journal, I learned that she was actually observing my behavior. What to expect with her, anyway? She was a psychiatrist. Her neat writings told me that she completely understood that I wasn't a girlish entity she expected I was. She was just like Luka, they were people devoted to the convention—that all girls should be feminine and males should be masculine, because that was their nature. Gender preference was a result of psychological, physical, sociological and emotional influences to a person along his process of growing. Since mom believed it was a person's nature, it would show when exposed to the opposite sex. But if she knew that gender was based on the influences — on preferences — why did she let me around Len but restrict me with my brothers?
I downed ale and ordered for another. If beer could help me forget that I am a girl even for a night, it would be fine. Perfectly fine. The tension around me was suppressing what other people thought a monster. The real me seemed to be a beast that shouldn't be unleashed. I am not a misfit in the society. Why was it hard to show the real me? Maybe this glass of beer would help. I drunk it empty and called for another.
My raised hand was pulled down; Len's grip on my wrist was so tight. You should end this, he said. It was the first time I saw him glare like that. Ah, I wouldn't be intimidated by that. One kick in the crotch, he'd surely back away. I pulled my hand away from him, I wasn't drunk yet. I only have two yet.
"Let me do this. I have no place here, nor everywhere." I rolled my eyes and shrugged, the loud music and neon lights finally came noticed by senses. It was annoyingly loud in here. How did this people managed to dance and get wild on the floor with the pool of strangers grinding themselves to others' hips? Freaking whores. College lads shouldn't be partying shit like these.
"Miku, we aren't in a club. We're in Luka's place and she will start the real deal later. I don't want you to ruin anything when you can't think straight anymore." His whisper sounded harsh and wary, like I was some scandalous threat in this birthday party. I let out a bitter laugh, shoving the glass of beer to Len instead downing it again. There, there, buddy, have some.
"I can't think straight?" I sneered. "Of course, you know I'm not straight. You know that, featherbrained pretty boy. You know that,"
Len downed the beer all to himself. Much to my surprise. So I asked once again while he and I glowered at each other while the whole place was shaking with the turned up music with everyone yelling along with it. The dark red lights passed by us, making Len's anguish visible and highlighted. For a split second, he looked like a mad dog. When we heard the bartender came, Len snatched the beer and drunk it to himself and grabbed me by the arm before dragging me out of the mini-bar.
"Ah, let me go, bummer." I complained and tried shaking his hand off of me, but he remained gripping until we reached the second storey of Luka's house. I felt so dizzy after two bottles, probably because it was my first time drinking.
You see, the society is truly depressing. It will force you to fit in it, and so the supposed-to-be "you" will disappear. And yet, those who wish to be heard – those who wish to be different are denied and labeled deviant. So at the end of the day, one will appreciate getting drunk to forget even for a short while.
"Miku! Len!" A Luka in a pirate costume approached us; her wide smile hurt my eyes. How dare she rejoice after openly loathing the third sex? I clamped around Len's waist, the world was slowly falling beneath my feet. "Are you ready? Come on, get changed." I ignored her and blabbering, I only wanted to leave and rest this pounding head of mine.
"No, thank you." I pressed my head hard against Len's back, refusing to see her face. "Len and I are drunk—"
Len interrupted, "Miku, I'm not."
"I am! I want to sleep! Do you have any rooms?" My grip around Len's stomach asked him to cooperate; he knew that I was brokenhearted. Like shit, I'd never find a girl. "You know, I am a girl. I'm a girl, Luka. Len and I are officially dating, so I want you to teach me how to be girly. Len likes girly ladies," my shoulders shook as I laughed. Yes, if I tell her the irony, will she get it? No. She probably won't. She is an insensitive dolt who rants about homosexuals like they aren't acceptable in the society. Fuck you, racist. If being a homo is a race, that is.
I felt Len cringed in my arms as he pried my wrists away from his stomach. "Hey, where on earth is that coming from? Ah—oh—forget what she said. She's drunk. That's not true." Len apologized to Luka. I knew why, he had a crush on her back in middle school. Ah, my bad.
Wrong joke.
Wrong place.
Wrong time.
Wrong person.
I felt my face stretched out to a silly grin, as I wobbled to coil an arm around Len's waist. "Ah, I see. You like someone else, you freaking man whore. Be loyal to me, jerk. People will . . . betray you, I swear."
"Ah, Miku? I think you need to rest. You're drunk." Luka sounded like a scared cat. I wouldn't do her any harm! Only guys got wild when drunk.
I stood straight to prove these two wrong, and cleared my throat. "I'm stone cold sober. I'm just messing around you. What's the deal?" But my posture was unsteady. The world was spinning fast, shit. I never noticed its rotation like this. "Are we goin' to switch clothes? I mean, I will be . . . a man? Yes? Cool. Where are the costumes?"
"Turn right from this hall, first room. Choose something great! I will be giving prices!"
Len and I walked there; glad to leave that woman in that hall. Her face, her voice – it all hurt my heart and soul because they were a painful reminder that I am unwelcomed. But as I dawdled after Len – couldn't keep up with his pace – I felt like going home.
"Len, let's ditch this shit. Man, it's so loud here." I hopped on his back, instantly clinging to him on a piggyback. Len groaned when I kicked his back accidentally, but went back walking. He didn't say anything; he just followed Luka's direction. "You still like that woman, no? She's not the girl for you, dude. She hates my kind."
"I actually never felt anything for her . . . ever since I told you I like her. It's a joke." He said. I smiled against his hair, and then bit away the knot that keeps his hair in a ponytail. His golden hair fell on his shoulders, wavy and unruly and I leaned to it. He smelled like a man. We used the same shampoo, yes.
"Lie." I refused to believe him. Luka was a beautiful girl, no doubt with that. One look on her, a man would definitely find her attractive. He shrugged me off when we reached the said room; I almost stumbled back when I hopped down from his back. When Len opened the door, a bunch of costumes overwhelmed my dizzy vision. I remembered that Luka was a part of the Artist Guild, so this looked legit to me. "O'right!" I pushed Len inside and locked the door behind us.
I rummaged the costumes to find a good dress for myself; I would dress like a girl. Hah, like I would. There was this blue gown at the corner; it reminded me of that Cinderella movie. I swatted the other dresses away then pulled the blue one out, throwing it to Len. He looked surprise when he caught it, eyes widening.
"Wear that." I smiled. "We will play prince and princess, and I am the prince."
After a few more minutes, I dragged Len out of that room. Like what I said, we were prince and princess. Len kept on complaining why he had to do this too, but I scolded him to stop whining like a girl. If I wasn't mistaken, he asked me to play this way when we were seven or eight, but I refused because I hate playing princess roles.
"Shut up, dude. We should beat all those ugly shits there. Look at you!" I said, turning to face him—stumbling towards this jerk. I combed his hair with my fingers; it fell a few centimeters above his shoulders. "You look pretty, don't worry."
Len shrugged and rolled his eyes. Honestly, I wanted to sleep already but seeing Len would probably keep me up. He looked like a blonde chic. I stared up to him, but he refused to meet my gaze. How annoying. I cupped his cheeks and forced him to look at me; his face was red in embarrassment. I had seen this face for over a decade, but I never had met another face who would accept me the way he did. This face was precious.
Len is a treasure. I am lucky to have a dude like him.
"Bro," I slapped his cheek to keep his eyes on me, "thank you for supporting me, aye? Thank you." My hands released him and we walked back to the hall where we met Luka. When she saw us, she was as noisy as a mouse.
Long story short, Len won the contest for the cross-dressing man. The cross-dressing girl award was received by a girl called Aoki. The whole night was spent with rounds of games that involved gulping down vodka, whisky or beer when one lost the play. I joined a few, but I was already hammered. I could not handle intoxication the way Len could, how pathetic. So, I sat there quietly in the middle of the night. After an hour, they were slumping down around me, and they all reek of alcohol. Their scent filled the air with bitterness—and I complained a lot as if I wasn't one of them who littered the air with smell of beer.
We were still in these freaking costumes, but none complained. It was the birthday celebrant's wish, anyways. Luka and her aye!-aye!-captain vibe kept me half awake all throughout their random tipsy talk. Well, that was until the white-haired girl with red eyes (she looked like a bunny to me) brought down a bottle and the game started.
At first, their consequences were simple when you refuse to tell the truth. And that was to drink the remaining alcoholic beverages scattered around. There were lots of canned beers so they were mainly after emptying those. The questions were gender sensitive, but I knew none of these people so I always chose to drink. I drunk around five, and I wasn't throwing up anything yet.
But things became weirder. As I said, my head was hammering but I wasn't out of my mind yet. Though I felt lightheaded, I could still comprehend the shit going around us. Len stayed by my side, always on guard. The cans beside him counted five, but he never looked tipsy at all. Aside from his reddening face that looked like a common blush, Len never appeared intoxicated. Things went bizarre when dares transformed to bold ones. How so? When Luka spun the bottle, it landed on me. She wouldn't wish me to tell my secret, right?
"Truth or dare?"
Even if it's you, I will always settle for the dare route.
"Dare." I slurred.
"Make out with Len for ten minutes."
People with us whooped and whistled, but Len stiffened with what Luka said. However, I didn't understand what she said. Make what?
"Pardon? What's that?" I blinked at them, and they all laughed. Len was obviously furious with whatever she said, while the others kept on whispering things I couldn't fit in my head.
"You will make out with Len, kissing and a little touching. Those things," Luka laughed. "Aren't you dating? It's normal for girls to do that with their guys you know? But it seems like you guys haven't crossed there yet." She's into this, huh? I think I will pass.
The noise stopped in a sudden. Len was standing beside me; his glare was directed to Luka. "We aren't dating,"
"Then, that's cool! The dare remains a dare; Miku has to do it with you."
"You can't force people—" I lightly pulled Len's gown, and he looked at me with bewildered face. "It's fine," I said and stood with him. "Where's the room, Luka?" She pointed to the same hall where we got out after changing, and said that we could use the room next to the ones with costumes.
"You can use that all night," she laughed with her whole gang.
Len and I moved there, he was still as I dragged him behind me. My head felt so heavy right now, as if there was an anvil placed above my head as we walked to the room. The cheers from Luka's gang continued, but we never mind those numskulls. When we reached the room, I pushed Len inside and locked the door behind us.
Luka was insulting every cell in my brain. She pushed it too far; she was assaulting me the worst way possible. She was a part of the society which wished every people in it to fit. I like the wrong girl, I suddenly realized. But as I stared at Len and his uneasiness, I found my safe haven. He was not like her. He wouldn't like someone who would assault his buddy that way.
"Len—"
"Look—we can pretend like we make out, we don't have to force things on you. She's an asshole, forget what she said."
"No." I walked to him and wrapped my arms around him. It was a friendly hug we always shared. "Let's try. I will prove her that I'm not a chicken. What about that, dude? It's just a dare." Why not try being a girl, anyway?
He winced. "Miku, no—" I never let him speak another word as I pressed my lips to his. Gently, I kissed him. It was normal skin to skin contact, as simple as that, until I felt him moving. Our lips melded together in the most unexpected way, because I never kissed anyone. If I kissed Luka, would it feel as euphoric like this?
We were like two lions fighting for dominance. Whether he owned this dwelling or I did, we continued to fight. It was hazy and luring, Len kissed me fiercely like a starving lion, conquering all places he hadn't touched yet. He held my face close and devoured my lips and tongue — at first, it felt gross, but I was too overwhelmed to kick him because of this.
I never had seen him this ferocious. Len wrapped an arm around my waist, pulling me closer to him as if he wouldn't let me go. Or he really he wouldn't. I grazed my teeth on his lower lip and pulled away, this was awkward. For me it was, but I didn't hate it. Well, that surprised me. Len's hold around my waist intensified. I felt his shoulders to shudder as he leaned against me, his throaty sobs resurfaced. Len was crying.
"Yo, why are you crying?" I pushed him away to see his face. Real tears gushed down from his crinkled eyes; it was an unnerving sight—to witness a man crying in front of you.
"I'm sorry, I shouldn't have done that. I am pushing myself to you—" I punched his chest weakly and laughed, telling him it was fine. Kissing him wasn't a bad experience, but it somehow felt like cannibalism.
We decided to switch on our real clothes and ditch this depressing party. We sneaked out using the side stairs and left the premises. Len claimed he was still sober enough so he drove us home, bringing a dozen of beers with us to continue our party in his flat. Like two crazed adults indulging ourselves with alcohol, we littered his flat with empty cans.
Continuing where we left, Len unrestrained himself as I fed him with the forbidden pleasure I let him have. His hands wandered all over me and touched me like I was a woman who wished to feel this. The way his bare skin smoothly grazed against mine, screamed mom and Luka's voice in my head. They were screaming all my defiance. The nature I broke swarmed back to me, as I felt myself reverting to what I was supposed to be—as if I wasn't born in the wrong place, wrong time and wrong body. I pulled Len's face back to me and kissed him.
Len claimed the uncharted territory and marked it his, and I was in a state too lightheaded to stop him. It happened like that, and the rest of night blanked out in my memory. All that I remembered was his gentleness; Len had no intention of hurting me at all, and he led everything that happened between us.
(Kagamine Len)
"I wonder how the guys in uni are doing," Miku muttered as she stared at her burger. We were in a fast food restaurant where we used to have lunch, back in our college days. "The juniors must taken up my table in the clubroom now," her eyes searched for something in those buns, but I knew she wasn't looking at those at all—perhaps picturing an image of Luka in her head. Whenever I was reminded that the one she liked was a girl, I somehow felt insulted. I had these thoughts for a while now, and I knew I'd never win her from her preferences. Who was I against her will? "Well, there's no use for an alumni anymore."
I thought after that blissful night, I could make her straight. I did my best to make her feel pleasure in a way she would never feel if she continued her unrequited love — I did my best to tell her my feelings through that night, but when we woke up, she acted like nothing happened. I would never forget every detail from that night, even if human memory was a fickle. It was the night when she decided to be one with me, whether it was due to intoxication or not.
The sun wasn't up yet when I awoke. Two hours before my alarm clock rang, I laid on my bed wide awake with Miku laying beside me. She was snuggling up to me, our bare skins touched. I couldn't help but smile, stare at her, and watch her sleep like I usually would whenever we would camp into each other's rooms. I was always watching her, wishing her to notice my feelings at least once, but that day never came. There were times I tried stealing kisses from her, but every time I would, I'd stop. A game shouldn't be played that way.
But as she slept well here, I couldn't stop tearing up. I was able to connect with her, but it looked like she'd still miss my real feelings. I tucked a lock of her hair behind her ear and whispered the truth I was keeping. "I love you," but it was unrequited. Today, your feelings for Luka and my feelings for you equated.
Leaning down to her, I planted a kiss on her forehead and pushed her back against the bed. Hovering above her, I decided to take it all as long as she would allow me. Trailing kisses from her cheek to her lips, she wrapped her arms around me and we did it again. I did not stop, even if she kept murmuring Luka's name in her half-awake state.
When I woke up again, it was already nine in the morning. Miku was sitting beside me, wearing one of my plain shirts. It was too large for her, but she did not care. Her hair was totally disarrayed, proving how many wild rounds we did. I was about to greet her a "good morning" but her blank expressions stopped me. So instead, I asked her what's up.
She blinked at me and shrugged, scratching the back of her head. Hugging her knees close to her and tapping her foot on my bed, Miku kept quiet. It was a mannerism of hers to stomp a foot repeatedly whenever she was thinking of something disturbing. After putting something on, I hoisted her face gently to look on me. Our eyes met like two unacquainted seas. We gazed at each other for some minute, until I broke the stillness.
"I'm sorry," I knelt on the floor, my head leaning against the edge of the bed. "I'm sorry."
"I hate you." She said, bringing down her legs and hung them down to touch the floor. "Since when, Len?"
"Since we first met."
"Do you feel like a man now?" The bed sprang a little as she walked to pick up her clothes and went straight to the bathroom. "I hate you, Len. I hate you."
The possibility that we would never be the same best buddies went up quicker than the stock exchange. Every day and night after our graduation, I'd glance from my window to check on her window — but she kept her curtains always laid down. I would only see her when she would leave for work, riding her dad's car. Day by day, I tried figuring out if something changes in her, but she was still Miku.
My mom began questioning the growing distance between Miku and I, and I couldn't tell her the real reason. She was mad, that was all I would tell and leave for work. Miku's mom would ask me too, but I'd answer the same. She was mad. But some months after, Piko and Dell walked on our lawn and asked for me. When I met them, Piko's fist connected to my jaw.
I looked at her. She was no longer staring at her food, but she was looking out from the windows. If she was wishing to see Luka around by chance, I'd bet her hard luck. Luka was in Hawaii with her boyfriend. Miku wouldn't find a familiar soul around here, all were working somewhere far.
We really don't have anything to talk. I see, we will never meet. Her feelings and mine — it will never meet. But I want to talk to her, to take responsibility to her and our child, and to be close with her once again. So I will try speaking up.
"Uh, what will we name her?"
"Rin." Miku said quickly, "I will name her Rin. Do you have any suggestion?" She turned her face away from the window, holding my gaze . . . more than two seconds. I was surprised.
I winced. "I'm bad at names."
"You suck in everything, anyways." She said and drunk her glass of pineapple juice.
Well, I do. That's why I can't be with her. I break the bond we formed for so many years when I confessed my real feelings, so I can see what kind of a sucker am I. The birth of our child won't justify that we can be buddies again, but at least through her, we can restore our friendship. If I propose to Milku — no, she won't like that idea. She hates me.
"Hey, jerk." She called, placing a small velvet box in between us. It stood out against the white table, and I wasn't so sure what was that. I only stared at it, then at her, unsure if it was some sort of present or something like that. "Why are you so dense?" She leaned towards her palm and sighed. "That's for you."
Bringing down my food, I wiped the oiliness of my fingers to a tissue and grabbed that small box. I lifted the cover and a silver ring was half-buried in it. My voice vanished from my throat, I couldn't utter a sound. I was supposed to be proposing a marriage — she was a girl. Why? What? Uh!
I looked at her but she only shrugged.
"Grow some balls, will you? I'm still manly, you know."
Probably things will work out like this.