𝗲𝗽𝗵𝗲𝗺𝗲𝗿𝗮𝗹 | 𝙨𝙚𝙢𝙞𝙨𝙝𝙞𝙧𝙖

𝗰𝗵𝗮𝗽𝘁𝗲𝗿 𝟴: 𝘀𝗲𝘁𝘁𝗲𝗿

[白布 賢二郎] Kenjirō Shirabu

Today, I called my mom.

She asked about too many things, and I told her to stop being a worrywart, and she just pouted and kept going.

A bunch of did you make any friends, are you doing well, bla bla bla.

I told her about meeting Semi, and her eyes lit up like Christmas lights. She loves him. Whenever she saw Eita, she'd invite him over for dinner, make small talk, buy him gifts, and I don't know why.

"He's a nice boy," is what she would say.

I think it's just because he doesn't bully me. And also because he's polite—around my mom, at least.

She asked me if I had Semi's contact so she could talk to him.

I said no.

"Aw, okay," she murmured. She sounded like Chiya—bubbly voice.

"Semi is a very good boy. You should be friends with him. He's very strong."

"Mooooommmm," I whined. "Stop it. I don't wanna be friends with th—him."

I almost said, "I don't wanna be friends with that asshat."

When I hung up, Chiya and I decided to go to the coffee place again to work on the project about constellations.

"You should be friends with Eita."

I rolled my eyes. That was the topic we were going to dwell on?

"Why?"

"He can protect you."

"Um, no, he cannot."

"Uh, yes, he can."

"Can't."

"Can."

"Can't."

"Can."

"Can't."

"Can."

"Can't."

"Can't."

"Ca—HAH!"

"Wha—oh."

She muttered a few words and put her purse on the table, making a leather ruffling sound.

"I've got bad news."

I looked up at her and nodded.

"Taku, today, sent one kid to the hospital."

...

"WHAT?!"

"Lower your tone," she warned. Then she let out her breath. "But yes. It happened. Not too severe, you know. Only, uh, the pinkie? I think? I don't know him well, but he went to that highschool really near here."

"No one knows? How'd you know?"

"A few kids know, like some members of the photography club. Don't ask about Yui. I'm breaking off our quote on quote, 'friendship.'"

It was silent as she pulled out a graph.

"I can tell why."

"Yui was the one to do that, and I mean the one to break it off, but I agreed almost immediately. I'm not all sunshine and rainbows; if someone doesn't accept my help, fuck them, fuck their life and their fucked up future. Say you don't need me? Oh ho, we'll see about that."

Internally, I was screaming.

Outside, I said, "Yeah. Sometimes, though...I um...I feel like I need to help them and go back for them."