—|–|Wrongly Perfect & Perfectly Wrong|–|—
"Huh? What'd you just say?"
"I said I need your help," she snapped, huffing. "My grade is, like, pretty bad. And with college exams on the horizon, I can't really just sit back and continue to laze around, y'know? I don't want to end up in some shaggy community college."
"Yeah, yeah, I get that part," I said.
Folding my arms against my chest, I leaned back against the wall of a vacant staircase somewhere around the eastern wing of Sobu High. The place was creepy to all hell; dim and almost pitch black, cobwebs on every surface, sprinkle of dust that made me want to sneeze my head off of my shoulders; the perfect place to get murdered.
The only reason I got that information to my retinas was the two streams of sunlight piercing through the panes of the access double-doors at the end of the staircase above. One of them split right down in between us, separating us, the other one hitting the back-wall. Thank God for that, literally. We were already uncomfortably close enough as is, so I'd take the opportunity to stay as far away as possible. Even if it was just an inch or two.
Those beams of light colored the area a warm-orange, tinting our black uniforms a dark-blue. Shading our faces a light-pink. Particles of dust churned within the one beam in between us like water in a narrow river. The natural phenomena granted me the privilege to see the girl in front of me—still too close for my comfort—sneer at me.
"If you get that part then stop complaining and help me," she growled. She leaned back, probably for the same reasons as me. "Ain't that what you're supposed to do? Service Club me, or whatever."
"What I don't get," I started, then scratched at my nose to stop the sneeze that was about to blow phlegm all over her face. If that happened, then my fear of getting murdered in such a perfectly serial-killer-esque hotspot may come to fruition. "Is that why you're asking me, of all people? Why not Yukinoshita? Or better yet, Yuigahama? I mean, you're friends and all. And why'd you have to drag me out here in this . . . creepy ass stairway?"
"Firstly, Yukinoshita and I are like oil and gas—"
"Water. It's oil and water."
"—and secondly, are you seriously suggesting that Yui help me with studying? Yui? Air-head? Can't even spell the word 'surreptitious'? That Yui? And here I thought you were the monster of logic or whatever."
"I . . ." I sighed, tilting my head downwards somewhat. "You have a point. But, I'm not really keen on helping you. I got . . . things and stuff to do, and stuff."
She gave me a flat stare. So flat that I could've imagined her being a petrified-stone sculpture of a face conveying bemusement.
"You? Things and stuff to do, and stuff?" she rubbed her eyes, then trailed across her right eyebrow with a finger to her temple, massaging it in circles. Presumably to negate the headache she was feeling.
It pissed me off for some reason.
"Look, I don't know you that well," she drawled, "but I know for a fact that you have no social life, like, at all. Everyone knows that. So stop with the excuses, 'cause it won't work on me. I'll drag you and force you if I have to. And I will. So stop complaining and do your job—your request."
I held back a growl by gritting my teeth. I said nothing for a moment, the faraway sounds of chattering and jovial laughter of students enjoying lunch break in the cafeteria seeming like a mockery to my current predicament.
Lunch break . . . I thought, coming to a realization.
I smirked and raised my chin at her, "Service Club activities are stalled for lunch break—which is happening right now. So requests will have to be postponed until the end of the school day; send me an arrow then. Right now, I'm going to go get a Maxx Coffee and a piece of bread. See ya."
Did the atmosphere just get sweltering hot or what?
What a glare . . . I shivered slightly, tugging on my collar to cool down.
I cleared my throat and put a finger under my chin like a certain Icy Witch.
"B—But for you, Miura, the Service Club will always accept your requests," I said confidently, nodding to myself in satisfaction. "Yes. Hmm, yes. Even if we're off duty, when you come along we just, just, just," I raised my hand and splayed the digits, then closed it into a shaky fist, "just y'know, get to it!"
"Uh-huh."
Miura Yumiko was not in the least bit convinced.
I couldn't really blame her—I wouldn't trust me either. That statement sounded sadder than it ought to be. The girl in front of me put a hand on her hip and put her weight against it. The whole of her vibrated and bobbed; uniform crinkled and shifted, her signature spiral-curling locks swaying beneath her chest, and her green eyes . . . became even deader than mine. The deadness to those once bright eyes had a passion to it. A passion to be as dead as possible.
Phwoah. That's not scary at all.
"I feel like you're making fun of me by putting me on a high pedestal," she said, straight-forwardly curt and swift. "Like you're implying I'm heavily entitled. Like I'm some socialite or aristocrat like Yukinoshita, to be given anything and everything I want with just a look. A glare."
She sighed as she waved her other hand non committedly in the air beside her. Then snorted.
"And you," she continued. "You folded immediately the moment I pushed a little aggression on you. Grow some balls and stand your ground. Ugh. You make me sick."
"Why are you scolding me like I'm some annoying kid? Screw off," I said. I wanted to take that back almost as quickly as it came out.
"Because you are an annoying kid," Miura snapped, teeth clamping together with an audible boney-clink. "And don't tell me to screw off, asshole. Now, you do this and I'll . . . I don't know, buy you some food every lunch break."
"Deal."
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Who in the right mind says no to free food? Every 12:00 PM no less. Or 12:48 PM in this instance. As soon as she said she'd buy me food every lunch break, I cashed that deal in on the spot.
And so, I was sitting at my regular spot in the southern-west section of Sobu High, vacant and alone, surrounded with nothing but grains of sand and empty air, awaiting my courier to bring me my bundle of goodies; a can of Maxx Coffee and a piece of yakisoba bread.
I must admit, I could've done better. I could've asked Miura to buy me the chicken sandwich special, or the full on turkey buffet—but alas, I am a good man who does not take women as mere mules. Or anything, really. Women—girls—do not exist in my eyes. If one is to be ignored, then one has to ignore the ignoring.
Basically what I'm saying is; girls don't think I exist or just ignore me, so I just do the same.
And when they don't ignore me, they hate me. For what reason? What'd I do?
Oh, right, I thought, drumming my fingers on my knee, the other one cupping the side of my face. I exist. Goes full circle. They treat me as if I don't exist, so they don't hate me. And when they somehow get the Eye of Sauron and notice thine existence, they hate. Ain't that poetic?
Hell no it isn't.
That's bullying.
Don't they know what it does to a guy mentally? The trauma? The anguish?
. . .
Pssft. As if I care.
"This is a sad thing to see," the voice came from behind me. But I needn't see who it was. I could tell by the pure disgust dripping—oozing—out of those words. That voice. "You look like Naruto after falling in the Cloning Jutsu first episode. All you need is a swing. And . . . hold on."
I looked over my shoulder to see Miura fumbling with both her school bag and two plastic bags, trying to balance the two bags full of my munchies—and her own goodies—in the crook of one arm. Finally, after snorting, she got her phone out and played a song.
Naruto's Sadness and Sorrow.
"Ha ha, very funny," I drawled.
"I know, right?" she sounded overly cheerful.
What a disgusting sound.
She pocketed her phone. Stepping over, she raised one of the bags high above my head, shaking it as if it was bait for a fish.
"One can of that disgusting coffee and a piece of yakisoba bread," she announced, cringing at my choice of cuisine. "All for the price of shutting the hell up and increasing my failing grade."
Unfortunately, I was a fish; and the bait was doing its finest baiting. Snatching the bag from the clutches of the she-demon, I rummaged through and pulled out my precious. Opening it with a hiss, I gulped half the 500ml of sweetness elixir. I sighed contentedly.
Food & bev always tasted 20% better when it was free, more so if it was bought for you. Like thieving, but in a legal way.
Yukinoshita could probably find a work around to make me look like the bad guy here, I thought, smirking.
"And don't do that," the demoness ordered, cocking her head low to the side to get a better view of . . . me?
"It's rude to stare," I said, frowning. "And don't do what?"
"That weird thing you do with your mouth," Miura replied, as if that was the most obvious thing in the whole universe. Setting her own bag down on one of the steps, she flattened the back-hems of her skirt against her thighs and lowered to seat herself.
That is, on the other set of stairs 15 feet to my right.
I can respect that; I wouldn't have been quite the content guy I was if I had to sniff her obnoxious perfume more than was preferable.
"What weird thing?" I replied to her previous comment.
"Anything that resembles a smile. Doesn't suit you."
After that harsh criticism, Miura started rummaging through her own bag to bring out—is that BOSS Coffee?
"And you call my choice of coffee disgusting," I snorted. "Yours is repulsive."
"At least this won't rot my teeth," she replied smoothly. "Or give me type 2."
"At least this has flavor, unlike that barron piss of a drink," I snarled. "And for your information, I have fantastic oral hygiene. Not a single cavity my whole life."
"I find that . . . actually, I believe you," she said, seeming surprised with herself as she cocked her head to the side thoughtfully. "Huh. Now that I think about it, with the way you look I'd have thought you'd stink up the whole school, but no. You smell . . . clean. Ugh. That's grosser somehow."
"Thanks for the not-compliment compliment," I said. I finished my drink and started on my bread.
"Don't say thanks to me ever," Miura replied, shivering. "Makes me feel like I actually complimented you."
". . . does every leeway into the next line of topic have to start with you being disgusted or mean? What's your deal? You're worse than Sagami."
"Don't compare me to . . ." she started strong and angry, but that fervent spike of emotion dwindled a tad. Instead, she glared at me. "Sorry."
"With the way you're looking at me, I have trouble believing that."
"And do you have to start the next line of topic being an asshole?"
"Yes. Of course. Who do you think I am?"
". . ."
". . ."
". . . Oh my God," she sighed. "This was a mistake. I should've asked Hina."
"Well, that's obvious," I said, nodding in agreement. "So go do that."
"If I do that, then she'll find out I'm not going to be applying for the same college as hers," Miura snapped. "You know what'll happen if she finds out? She'll hate me."
. . . Well, that's TMI.
She seemed to have realized that too, now that she was blushing and biting her lower-lip. She looked away from me.
"Why'd she hate you?" I said after a moment of silence, despite not wanting to involve myself anymore than I was. Curiosity is a powerful force. "From what I know about her, she isn't the type to hate anyone. . . . Well, other than herself, at least."
"Well, I just think that she will . . ." she mumbled. She gave me a side-stare. "And what do you mean? You make it sound like she hates herself or something."
"That's exactly what I'm implying," I took a bite of my bread.
"What? That's some nerve you have there," Miura said angrily. "Don't make things up about my friends when you've only seen them from afar. It's irritating. You don't know anything about Hina."
"Kyoto trip," I replied instead, looking forward, avoiding her eyes. I could feel them on me, the anger—real anger—burning holes into the side of my head. "Before running around trying to get Tobe with Ebina, she came to the service club for a simple request, "Don't make Tobe confess, because I'll reject him. It'll destroy our status quo." Well, she didn't say that exactly, but she heavily implied it. So, I did just that. I falsely confessed to her, and when she rejected me, saying she wasn't looking for a relationship, Tobe stopped. All's well ends well. Before our departure, Ebina contacted me to thank me. There, she said she was a rotten person and hated herself."
"That's bullshit."
"Ask Ebina," another bite, "if you don't believe me."
"If I don't believe you, that means I don't believe you," Miura said stubbornly. "'Cause there is no way Hina told you something that personal, and didn't come to me, her friend."
"Sometimes telling someone who you have no connection to is safest," I said, taking another bite. "Because if you break down your thoughts, feelings, the whole of who you are to someone close to you, it'll create a rift between you and them—unintentional or not. It always creates a rift. A space. A distance."
I lazily tilted my head towards her, ready to take the final bite of my bread.
"Tell me I'm wrong," I said.
"You're—" she stopped, pursing her lips into a hard line. Finally, after gazing at me for a full minute and a half, she sighed and unwrapped her bento. I finished my bread.
Soon after, we left.
We didn't even discuss how we're going to do the request, or when, I thought, throwing my garbage into a bin and mounting my steed. Meh. Hopefully she doesn't want to do the request anymore.
We didn't talk for a week after that.
That is until she knocked on my bedroom door.
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Wisdom teeth surgery. Need I say more?
Isn't horrible, btw. I'm having a smooth—albeit somewhat sore around the jaws—speedy recovery. I had this expectation that I'd be in a coma from the pain. But when I came to find out that my oral hygiene is acceptable and perfect enough for healing four empty sockets in my molars quickly, it was a relief. On top of four of my wisdom teeth getting rid of their wisdom and wits, I had an extra two teeth plucked right outta my mouth—one a rotten baby tooth (don't judge, I like extremely sweet things), the other a large canine that was right behind my front teeth since I was a kid. Losing that tooth was detrimental, btw; I thought it made me unique. But in reality, I looked quite the red neck when I threw my head back, guffawing at my grandpapa's unfunny jokes. That large canine was a visible mark for the unfortunate audience; my argumentative family.
I said a lot more. That contradicts my classic use of, 'Need I say more?'.
Anyway, 1+ week post-op, no pain, no swelling, no infection, and thank fuck no dry sockets! I dodged a bullet there.
Thinking of the outline of Black, White & Blue Aves's next chapter, I've kinda hit a slump there. Why do writers think of a very good concept for a story, just to stop right at the beginning because you don't know how to course your story to that exact scene you wanted to reach? Kinda annoying. But that's the charm of story building, ig.
One the third book of the Stormlight Archive series by Brandon Sanderson. Fucking amazing that book. I'm already halfway through, and let me tell you, Dalinar Kholin is the most interesting character I've ever read about. Ruthless warlord committing war crimes like a dog might take a shit willy-nilly, to a husband of a foreign wife for political reasons, to a father of two sons who one would later become one of the greatest duelists in history and the other a Knight Radiant, a brother of a king who has married the woman he loves, went to one of the three Gods, the Nightwatcher, to ask for a boon to forget the pain of his wife's death and what horrible things he has done do the city who killed her (that's what I think at least, haven't reached that part of the backstory yet), now a Knight Radiant of the Order of Bondsmiths, arguably the most powerful order. He bonded a fragment of God. Isn't that awesome or isn't that awesome sauce? Pick your flavor.
His redemption arc goes crazy crazy. If you were planning on reading the series, sorry for the spoilers; and if you really are planning to read it definitely, you will forget everything I said about Dalinar since you have to go through 3,000 pages to reach where I am in the story rn. Good luck.
Anyway, hope you liked this little snippet.
(This will definitely not have a second chapter, or become a full story. I am now incapable of writing a full fledged story. This is practice.)