Shattered Glass

Jessylane

"I hear the ruin of all space, shattered glass and toppled masonry, and time one livid, final flame." - James Joyce

-2-

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I'm twelve the first time I meet one of the characters I remember. Honestly, those memories of the story feel more like a strange dream than anything real. But then he's standing there, and I can't help myself.

Chisaki, Kai is the most handsome guy I've ever seen, in either this lifetime or the last. Hands in his pocket, he looks just like the flash of a cartoon I remember, and just as wicked. I smile at the exposed face, at handsome scowl. It almost feels like a sin looking, knowing he'll cover it soon. Anxiety aches in my chest and I chase it like a junkie, rushing over to my doom.

"Hey."

He stares me down, uninterested.

"You know, usually people say hi back when you greet them."

"And you are?"

I grin, offering my name. "It's nice to meet you, Kai."

He frowns, and I know I've caught his full attention. Hook, line, and sinker.

"How do you know that?"

I cock my head to the side and smile, hoping its mysterious. It must be, he takes a menacing step forward, fist curled. I dance out of his reach, rubbing my fingers and making the nails thicken into sharp glass claws. Just in case.

He doesn't notice, or maybe he doesn't care. I can't tell. My heart thumps in excitement.

"If you wanna know, you have to be my friend," I tell him. It's a dangerous game, but I like the rush. I lean back and knock my heels together. His eyes narrow. The anxiety in my chest grows. I lick my lips.

"Oh?"

"Let's play a game," I tell him daringly. "I'll answer one question for you if you answer one for me, but you only get one per day. And I get to go first!"

He stops stalking forward and I nearly dance in delight when he appears to consider it.

"Fine."

He's so transparent, more so than even my glass. I can't help but grin at the thoughts so obviously flittering across his face. He wants to kill me after his answer. I let a piece of pink glass grow underfoot—a precaution. The other half is in my room, a good twenty minutes away. It's a perfect escape, especially since he'll probably swing as soon as the words leave my mouth.

"What's your favorite food?"

His brows furrow and it's adorable. He has no idea.

"Rice."

I can't help the laugh that bubbles up at that, at the simplicity. He glares, clearly annoyed.

"How do you know my name?"

"I read about it before I died," I tell him and then, as he reaches out to grab me or destroy me or even pierce me with the landscape around us, I slip into the mirror and disappear.

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Kai keeps the mirror.

I can tell because when I look for it later, it isn't there. When I use my quirk to look, it's in a black box. Too small to fully open, but soft to the touch when I hesitantly press my fingers through. So instead I write him a note, draw a little smile on it, and push it through our connection. I can tell he finds it the next day, because when I look again, he's replaced it with a cell.

Like I'm falling for that.

I leave the phone untouched and go to the small, nearby café, ordering a drink.

I'm unsurprised when he arrives an hour later at the time requested. I am surprised he comes alone. I can't tell if he doesn't think I'm a threat or is just more curious than he cares to admit. I wave him down from a seat, smiling as he notices the box of Clorox wipes on the table.

He narrows his eyes but uses the wipes before sitting. I grin.

"How?"

I tap my nose with a mysterious smile.

"Ah, ah, ah! I get the first question, that's how the game's played!"

He glares, clearly annoyed, but doesn't deny it.

"Hmmm… I want to know... if you could do something fun right now, what would it be?"

He snorts.

"Why is that important? Why do you care?"

"Nope," I tell him, leaning back in the chair so it sits precariously on two feet. "You have to play by the rules or the game ends! Come on, friend."

I don't think he can help the smirk. It's absolutely delightful. My stomach twists in knots as the beauty of it. It's like staring in a damn flame. It's intoxicating.

"I would rob a store."

He's trying to throw me off. It's working. I can't help the quick beat of my heart, the warm clench of anxiety in my chest, and the bright warmth that fills my cheeks. It's that same feeling, that addicting taste of more. I want more. It feels like living. And I don't ever want it to stop.

"Okay," I say, eyes twinkling. "Let's do it!"

He blinks.

"What?"

"That's not your question is it?" I ask, raising an eyebrow and tilting my head. I set the chair back on four legs. "Why not? You afraid?"

The twist of his lips is sexy and cruel. Does he think I'm kidding?

"Alright, I'll get my question after."

I'm twelve years old when I rob my first store.