Emptiness
He couldn't help himself, couldn't prevent the hatred from bubbling up deep within him. They'd left him like this, shipped him over to Japan like a broken porcelain doll that nobody wanted. He was stuck in a limbo, an adult, jammed between his childhood and teenage years.
He walked from school to his run-down apartment. His pace was slow, and instead of a cute girl walking next to him, he trudged alone in the snow. A bleak life, this was. School, work and sleep. I-Pin filled in the spaces in between – she knew how much he needed her. Unfortunately, she was at the ramen store tonight, so the walk was relatively quiet. White ear-buds were shoved into his ear canals, blocking out all the noise the environment provided.
He was better off in Italy. With more than just a singular friend, with more than just cold rice in his empty fridge, in his emptier apartment – he deserved more. Damnit, he deserved to be surrounded by cute women, women who wore dangly, delicate earrings, not constantly chided by some Chinese girl with her hair in plaits. Immediately after that thought, he turned red with guilt. I-Pin was the best thing to happen to him, the only thing that kept him in line, the only thing that kept him (relatively) positive.
"I could at least go for some takoyaki," he muttered to himself, not fond of the idea of eating leftovers AGAIN. Perhaps it would always be difficult for him to abandon his childish tendencies for good.
He meandered up the steps of his apartment building, counting the steps to the fourth floor. A squeak sounded between every number in his head, in a rhythmic sort of way. Sixty, squeak, sixty-one, squeak, sixty-two, squeak. He trudged to the door labeled B and unlocked the metal gate – a moot point since jostling it would've been a much easier way to open it – and unlocked the sturdy oak door behind it. The door swung open after a couple hard turns on the doorknob to reveal a sparsely furnished living room. In the corner was a small TV, and in front of it sat a grey, worn leather couch and a felt-topped card table – perfect for a late night snack or ramen noodles.
All of a sudden, he remembered that the eating of leftovers had to be postponed. He was working the late shift at a sushi bar a couple of blocks down. The realization was always a bittersweet one, a fight between physical exhaustion, food and money.
Food and money always won. On his shift, he always made sure to eat as much as he could, so he'd be satiated by next morning. So what if he was a little tired at school the next day? The job helped pay his bills and put food on the table. Funny, those clichés were used for those much older than his ripe seventeen.
Lambo swiftly moved from his living room to the bedroom. In one deft movement, he fell forward and fell into a deep sleep…
In a couple of hours, his green eyes opened hazily. Perfect. Just in time for work…
He stood up quickly and brought his hand to his forehead, a dizzy rush hitting him suddenly. After recovering, he stripped off his green V neck to replace it hurriedly with a white button-up shirt. His right arm crossed the front of his body to massage a stiff shoulder.
Wincing slightly at a knot, he shot a glance at his clock and decided it was time to get going. Too bad, the nap was absolutely lovely.
Shoving his hands into the pockets of his dark washed jeans, he brushed his other hand through his black, shaggy hair. Freshening up: done. He pulled on his thick winter jacket and glanced at his reflection through a mirror.
Admittedly, this wasn't the life he'd always imagined, but it was still his. Fuck it, really.
He heaved a sigh before walking out the door and slamming it behind him.
As he walked down the stairs, his footsteps echoed through the hallways before fading into the sound of blowing snow.