Something smells fishy

At sixes and sevens

Miyu looked at me like a deer caught in a car's headlights, widely opened eyes, slightly furrowed brows, her lips parted as she pushed air through her lungs.

I couldn't take it. I was bound to be the one to lose in this staring game. My head fell onto her chest, pushing all of my weight and all of my thoughts through my forehead towards her heart.

I could hear it.

Lub dub, lub dub, lub dub...

Her heartbeat throbbed against my ears like war drums.

'Miyu,' I said quiveringly, 'is it wrong of me to like Shiro?'

It was a question I did not want to ask, it just broke out of the clasp of my chest and came to be. Miyu's face changed in color. She shut her eyes tightly, her forehead wrinkling from the pressure.

'Why?' I muttered into thin air.

Her body tensed in response to my pleading tone.

'Dame!' she exclaimed.

The resolution in her voice when she said I was forbidden to, made me snap back to my senses. Her chest heaved heavily under me -- she was angry.

'Amy chan cannot like Shiro,' she barked at me.

I felt my blood raise up to my temples.

'You are my friend Miyu and I care about you. I respect your opinion, you know that. But you have no right to tell me whom I can or cannot like! You're his sister not his God damn wife,' I growled back.

Our eyes met, our faces barely a few inches away from each other. She winced, aghast at my outburst. I was wrong, she wasn't angry. Her face betrayed a fear stricken grimace.

'Please,' she mumbled, 'not Shiro.'

'You have to explain this to me, Miyu. You cannot give me nothing and expect me to just go along with this.'

I was practically begging for answers but she didn't even flinch.

'It makes no sense for God's sake! Miyu give me something... anything, ' I cried out.

'Why are you so upset about this? This is messed up!'

She broke our adjacency and jumped off the sofa. Before I could make sense of what she was planning to do, she stormed towards the bathroom.

I rushed after her but was met by a slamming door. I heard the lock turn and a thud against the door as she pushed all of her weight to make sure it would stay closed.

Miyu was my friend, my best friend, and I loved her, but it is also true that I knew too little about her.

I knew she liked to drink oolong tea first thing in the morning; that she couldn't stand umeboshi, this disgusting sweet and sour Japanese pickled plum; that she had a small collection of perfumes and used them according to her mood. I knew she always carried sanitiser with her because she didn't like being touched; she always had a piece of chocolate candy in her bag in case she was feeling down; and every Friday she would buy flowers for her mother because her father passed away on this very day. I also knew that she nibbled her nails when she was nervous; that she secretly dreamed of dying her hair red; that she liked blue and hated reading newspapers.

I knew so much and yet so little. Meeting these siblings turned out to be an emotional rollercoaster. I got sucked into a bipolar whirlpool of drama that I had no idea how to handle.

Helpless and confused, I banged my back against the door and lowered myself to the ground. The cold door knob yanked at the towel that was still wrapped around me. I pulled my knees to my chest and got the towel over my shivering body.