~~Not a new chapter! But I turned an originally 1k-word-prologue into a 3k-word-chapter because I feel it was too short? Also there's a scene that wasn't in the old chapter.

The next chapter is nearly done and shouldn't take that long to get published. It depends on some other factors, though.


Chapter 01

"The Start of an End"


He enjoyed the moments with her.

The place where he was supposed to have as many social interactions as possible had turned its back on him. Asking for someone who could at least understand him was too much for a wish—that was the unfortunate truth, he was well aware of that. Asking for a friend would be a wish that was beyond impossible, he concluded, so that was how things were going.

Of course, deep inside, he'd love to kill himself. Not from the way things were going, but from how he simply let things be. But he'd never be able to. Although he always had that intention, along with something that was, perhaps, more than just thoughts and intentions. He was a coward, after all.

After getting that kind of treatment in his everyday life, finally having someone like her around felt nice. Although he didn't know if he actually thought of her as a friend or not. She was simply 'around' at the times when he would usually be alone—not the 'alone' when he was secluded from the other classmates, but the 'alone' when he was completely alone, both socially and physically. She wasn't exactly the cure that he needed—it was beyond impossible, after all—but at least her presence in the other side of his life, where he wasn't as miserable as when he was in that living hell, added more color. Not exactly the bright color, but it wasn't a dull one, either.

Since he lived by himself, it was natural for him to do his own houseworks; that was his simple other-side-of-his-life. An 'alone' life which he didn't feel 'lonely', at least not as lonely as when he was at school. And during those times, after the clock struck four, she would come to his house every now and then. When he was busied with the laundries, dishes, or even when he was going out shopping, she would be there. Most of the times, she would lend her hand as well, but when she wasn't, she simply would just talk.

She was quite the chatterbox, talking about a lot of things, although it rarely was something about herself or her life matters—some borders weren't meant to be crossed, and he wasn't planning on crossing it, either. From that, he noticed that she wasn't as quiet as he expected her to be at first. Day by day, she just seemed to talk more and more—but he knew that this was just a common sense. At first they were nobodies. There's absolutely no need to talk that much to someone you barely know, but once you get close to someone, it becomes natural to talk to them, even about things you thought you wouldn't say to anyone.

That was almost like saying that they were, indeed, no longer 'nobodies' to each other. Yet, he still hadn't considered her as his friend. And it was the same from her side. None of them had said the word, "We're friends now," even just once, and even without the actual verbal or written words.

They were companions who became companions because they couldn't help it. They were stuck with each other, not having any more choices they could make. They had nobody, nobody else but each other. They were not friends, but that was more than enough.

They knew how the world revolves, they knew how asking for more would be so, so much selfish. They knew it all, and they were trying to accept it all.


"You don't talk much, do you?"

He glanced at her. "Wasn't it you who talks too much?"

"I guess it's just natural for a girl to talk much. Compared to other boys, I mean, you're rather silent."

"It's not really wrong to say that boys generally talk less than girls, then, if that's your reasoning." He smiled to himself. From the corner of his eyes, he could see her eyes, staring at him. "But does that mean you're close with a boy—or some boys? Being able to compare me to them like that..."

She shifted on her seat, he noticed. "N-not really, actually. You know how I am—although, well... Well, I've said it, you know."

You know, she said. Just exactly like what she said, he knew what she meant by that. A something that maybe someone else wouldn't know, but he knew. It was just like a secret between the two of them. Not a sweet secret—it wasn't even anything sweet, it was just the truth that left bitter taste when said.

This time, he turned his head to face her properly. Face-to-face, eyes-to-eyes. Upon landing his sight on her blueish green eyes, he felt like he was being absorbed by its clarity, its sparkle. Such eyes, a physical entity, had much more than what he could see with his own eyes. They held many expressions, some of which she had told him during their time together, and some was the ones that were left unknown for him. That was what lured him deeper and deeper. The search for the real her was a never-ending journey for him.

Yet people simply think of her so shallowly. Yes, she was perfect; it was a general statement to describe her. Too perfect, perhaps, that she was a easy-target to envy. The way it flowed—"find a target, make her as the ijimerarekko*, life goes on"—sounded so simple, too simple for such a serious matter.

It was a serious matter, indeed. Something that had plunged her into self-hate was nothing that could be taken lightly.

She was perfect, yes, he would admit it. Although he thought his view on her perfection was different. Besides, the same view would lead him to the same envious feeling towards her. It was a whole different feeling that led him into liking her—no, maybe something more than a feeling of like.

"Hey." Her voice woke him up from his thoughts. She spoke slower than usual, as if trying to reach him and making sure that she was able to reach him. "You know, if it's you, I wouldn't mind being close. Even closer. The closer, the better."

Sure, hearing those words right after thinking about her left him feeling off-guard. It felt as if she had just found a gap and so she could delve into his mind to know what he was thinking. He knew that it was just a coincidence, yet deep inside a voice told him that there's no such thing as coincidence—that was no coincidence, maybe she did find her way into his mind. Although he said nothing about that, and just let her continue on with what she might want to say.

"What about... what if we go out, the two of us?" She was being careful with her words, as if one mistake she made in her words would turn the whole situation.

She turned the atmosphere, however. The room just suddenly felt foreign for him despite knowing it very well that it was his living room they were in, as if her words made him forget about everything. He found himself unable to look away from her eyes, which now showing an expression he couldn't really tell—not because the expression itself was unreadable, but because he couldn't tell. He couldn't think straight. Her words froze his whole thought.

Yet slowly, something stirred inside. The feeling in his heart. It was a weird feeling, not something that made him comfortable.

He almost jumped when he felt her hands grabbing his. At last, he could look away from her, he unconsciously averted his gaze to somewhere else when he got surprised by her sudden touch. Her sudden, yet gentle touch. Then slowly, the warmth from her hands reached him. It felt nice, it felt assuring, it made him able to think straight for once more.

Now that he could think, he knew that he was just nervous. He wasn't expecting something like that to come out from her mouth whether it was sooner or later; it was natural for him to get surprised.

Actually, once he was able to snap out from the shock, he felt a lot of things came flooding into his mind at once. If anything, what he was feeling was confused. Sure, her idea of asking him out was nothing deeper than a middle-schooler's attempt to experience love. But his confusion came out from that exact reason. He knew, he admitted it that he liked her—but it wasn't just a 'like', it was something more.

And that something more was... love? Or was it something else? But what would be more than 'like' if it wasn't 'love'?

He was just going to rake his brain for an answer—because a nagging feeling inside of him told him that there's something else that's more than 'like', yet it's not 'love'—but having those hands clutching on his, was as if she was trying to give him an answer to his utter confusion. His previous doubt just disappeared, and all that mattered then was her.

His eyes found its way back to hers. What he got in return was her sincere smile that reached her eyes. It radiated. Suddenly being next to her felt more comfortable, having their hands touching gave more spark than usual, looking at each other's eyes accelerated his heartbeat—their heartbeats.

He knew that there was more to her that he didn't know, he wanted to know, and he would know. He'd be willing to find it out because he loved her.

"If it's you, I wouldn't mind being close."

And their feeling was mutual.

"Sure, why not?"


He felt a cold sensation surging from his shoulder to his whole body. It didn't come to him immediately, but soon he realized that it was her hand—her cold hand on his bare shoulder. She wasn't touching him the way she had been touching him—the soft tingly and teasing touch—and instead it was a hard, forceful push. They didn't inch away; she didn't mean to push him away, anyway. She was stopping him.

She noticed his hesitation; that was why.

Smiling slyly just like she usually did to him, she caressed his cheek with the slim fingers of her other hand. He flinched, but didn't she just do the same thing not so long ago, and he accepted it willingly?

Then her moist pink lips parted, slowly moving to form some words—her smile unfaltering. "I know that you, too, hate me. But do you hate me so much that you feel my body is that disgusting?"

Those words, although only said in such a short period of time, hit him really hard. It weighed him. All at once; the realization came down to him. His confusion and his doubt about his feeling towards her at the beginning, things he figured out when trying to know her better, his hesitation just now; everything made sense now.

It was exactly as what she said. That more-than-like feeling was no love. It was no such thing called love, even from the beginning.

He hated her. He hated her so much.

Deep, deep inside, he knew. It wasn't like he could ignore the nagging feeling inside of him. That more-than-like feeling was hate, it said. Yet he believed that nagging feeling, along with his confusion, came out from the fact that he didn't know her that well yet to be able to 'love' her.

And for that reason, too, he agreed to her idea of going out. Maybe from going out, he would know her more. Maybe from going out, he could love her more. Such a naïve thought he had back then. Of course he didn't expect things to turn that way—him trying to know her better to love her more, only to know her better to hate her more.

But he knew. His relationship with her had always been so complicated from the beginning, anyway. Having that kind of thought, even just for once, was a complete naivety—stupidity?—of his.

He didn't know what kind of face he was making right now. A surprised face? Or perhaps something more like bewilderment? He didn't know, but it was an expression that pleased her. By logic, it would be hard to see her face from the way his shadow blocked most of his sight, but he saw her—and her smile—just fine. Things he could see clearly in a complete darkness, that was just like a ghost; that smile haunted him.

It wasn't even the most haunting smile she could make. By the time he realized that, her smile only grew bigger, curling up her lips as far as it could stretch. He felt her fingers stroking his cheek again—he had forgotten that her hand was still touching his face until this moment, and that soft yet deceitful movement made him shudder.

"If you really think that way, there's nothing wrong with breaking up, you know."

She let out a slight laugh when she said that. Slowly, she let her fingers trail down to his jaws before pulling it away from his face. "Would you move aside, then?"

He could hear the shuffling of the sheet, along with some hardly noticeable bounce of the bed. There was one last creaking sound before the shuffling became unheard. Even without seeing—he didn't want to see, anyway—he could tell her movements from the sounds. The room was too quiet that even the slightest sounds were clearly audible. The zipping sound of her securing up her skirt, the swishing sound of her scooping up her shirt, the snapping sound of her pressing her coat buttons... he could hear them all.

While she was putting her decencies back on, he only stayed there, trying to bury himself down in the sheets. His mind was full with things, he just couldn't comprehend it. He felt numb. He wasn't sure what the reason was, but it rendered him motionless.

The room fell into a silence of nothingness. He assumed that she must have done dressing up. At the same time he felt an intense glance directed to him—his back. He knew he was having his back on her.

"I guess I'll just go home, then." Her voice sounded hollow, a complete opposite of the voice before, the voice full of mischief. It didn't matter. She was allowed to speak with any expression she wanted, anyway. He could care less about that. What she said was the thing that alarmed him, though.

He was aware how late it was.

He shot up, turning his head in such a fast motion. He stopped at the sight of her face—her eyes, feeling the need to stare at it. He couldn't bear it for a long time, though, and decided to speak without looking at her. "It's late. Let me walk you ho—"

"No need." She didn't even let him finish his word before cutting him, giving out a statement straight to the point. "I've asked someone to pick me up, no need to walk me home this night."

That sent him a great relief. A really great one, perhaps the greatest relief he had felt for the last week or so. Thinking about having to spend some moments to walk her home, which in other words meant being with her for some 'good' fifteen minutes, was an unpleasant thought. It was merely a thought, yet... He just didn't want to be with her, at least for that moment.

Maybe, not only for that moment. He was okay if he didn't see her for the next, two, or four years. He really didn't care. He was beyond okay; he would be thrilled, to be honest.

"I'll take my leave now, then. Good bye." He heard her voice rang. It was followed by the sound of her footsteps, but it stopped before he could hear the sound of the front door being opened.

What else now?

He knew, she had got something up again. After heaving out a sigh, he got up, pulling the sheets off the bed and dragged it along with him to wrap his body. Even the floor was cold under his bare feet. He just couldn't imagine walking without having himself wrapped.

It was no surprise that he found her standing unmoving in front of the door, her back facing him. She had her hand on the handle already, but stayed frozen in her standing place.

"What is it?" he cut it short. He just wanted her to go away—why didn't she just go?

Upon hearing his voice, she turned around and faced him. He knew; she did this all on purpose. Because of that, he had expected her to have an ear-to-ear smile on her face when she saw him compelled by her 'call'. But she didn't. Her face was all unreadable. "You can hate me and all. I'm okay with that. But no matter how much you hate me, or how much you hate yourself... I'll never hate you."

That was the last thing that came out from either of their mouths. The next thing he could hear was the sound of the door being closed.

It was all silence in the house.


"Good mornin—ow, are you okay? Your eyes are bloodshot red, and you look kinda pale." She looked at him with concern, removing her shoes as she did so. "Perhaps we can skip today?"

That was what she said?

He shook his head slowly. "No need, I just didn't get enough sleep last night." He stepped aside to give her some room to walk in.

She smiled brightly. "Well, if you said so."

He closed the door behind him, then followed the girl who was already making her way. Like she usually did, she walked into the house, opening doors and entering the rooms as if it was inside of her own house. He could understand, though. Due to how often she went to his house for their work matters, that place probably felt like her second home already.

At least, that was what he would think if only the previous night didn't happen. To be able to brush the matter off as if it was nothing like that...

"So, today is..." Her voice came again. Hearing that, he noticed that she was seated on the couch already. She flipped his notebook, searching for a certain page. When she finally found the writing she was looking for, she let out an, "Eh? You got this thing finished already? Without telling me like that... Well, it's time to try it out, then."

He said nothing. He did nothing. He just stood there near the only door on that room, watching her as she walked around the room light-heartedly with his notebook in her hands, humming some song while doing so. The previous night was nothing for her, probably. It was nothing at all.

And he was bothered by that fact.

So much.

He was too bothered that he didn't pay his attention to her anymore. It was her doings that he was thinking about. Perhaps he was too deep in his thought, that when the awareness came back to him, her face was just some inches away from his. It surprised him for sure—wasn't the last time he looked, she was walking further to the other end of the room? How did she get to his side so fast?

And the first thing she did after getting his attention back was ripping his glasses off.

"What's with the half-hearted act? Be more serious." She snarled. That snarl; he knew that she had quitted her all-innocent act. "I know you're bothered by last night's event, but I gotta remind you, it has nothing to do with them."

Then it dawned upon him. Ah, of course, she had got a point there. It had nothing to do with them, at all. It was his bad for bringing that matter along—his mind was too messed up, he admitted that.

His hard look softened, although that still didn't make him feel any more comfortable with the current situation. Especially with the fact that the one who was standing in front of him was her, the person from the previous night. At least he didn't have to see her face as clear as the night before.

He sighed.

She let him go this time. "I'll just let you know that we can't stop this. For now. No matter what happens to 'us' right now, it has nothing to do with 'them'."

"I'm aware of that. Not that anybody said that it was the end for them," he said. "Perhaps that was my fault for being too distracted because of you, but something like that won't happen again."

She smiled after hearing that coming out from his mouth. "Oh? If you said so, make sure you really do. I'm sorry for occupying your mind, anyway."

He intensified his glare, transmitting his hard feelings wordlessly.

She remained unfaltering; even her smile stayed in its place. After not hearing him agreeing to anything, she took the chance to continue speaking. "So? Shall we continue?"

He grabbed his glasses she had taken off. While putting it back, he answered, "Let's just continue."

She smiled, curling up her lips as much as it could stretch. "It's settled, then. This real life role-playing game continues. Be nice to me this time as well, okay?"

He stared straight into her blueish green eyes, trying to figure out what kind of intention she was having this time. He never be able to, anyway. But no matter if he could figure it out or not, no matter what her true intention was, he had no choice. The game must continue.

"... Same here."


*ijimerarekko: bullied kid


~~By the way, also as a response to a reviewer, this story is not LenxMiku. It's not LenxMiku. I assure you. You know the word "development"? Just need to point that out considering the number of LenxMiku hate out there.

Review Reply:
Guest — I don't even know who you are and if you will read this, but thanks for the review! Ah, you caught me. But even a RinxLen story sometimes needs LenxMiku, doesn't it? And sorry I fail you at the 'update soon'. Still, thank you for the review, anonymous guest!

Also thanks for EchoLinux, Lalala, and MysterySeeker03 for the reviews. The reply will be included in the next chapter. My gratitude also goes out to the people who put this story in their favorite, alerts, and the readers!