Romantic Killer But I Made It Gay

Part 88

"I used to be much more open in middle school. I had more friends, I talked more, I smiled more, I was more outgoing. But all of that changed after her.

"It all started the day I was walking with my two closest friends. We were chatting like usual until a woman tripped coming the other way, dropping her bag. Worried, I picked it up and helped her to her feet. She smiled and thanked me, and we went our ways. I thought that would be the last time I saw her. But I was wrong.

"She waited on my way to school every morning, and every time she would greet me warmly. I'd greet her back and she'd smile, just like she had the first time we met. But after a few weeks I started to worry. This was going beyond her wanting to be friends with me. This was something else. My friends said she liked me. But she was a lot older than me, so I didn't want to believe it.

"Then I received a shirt in the mail. I suspected it was from my mother or sister, but when I asked them they said they hadn't gotten me anything. I was confused. But the next day, on my way to school, while passing her as usual, she whispered along with her normal greeting, "That shirt looked good on you, Tsukasa."

"After that, more and more shirts and other clothes came, but I stopped opening them. Apparently someone had made multiple accounts under my mother's name and had been ordering from there. Arisa suggested calling the police, but my father shut that down quickly. He said we were being shameful and pathetic to want to involve the police in this. We decided to just return the packages unopened to wherever they came from.

"I was crossing the street when I heard her behind me, asking if I didn't like the clothes she'd sent. I knew it was her, but this just confirmed my suspicions. I asked her why she was doing this and she apologized sincerely, saying she didn't want to bother me, and that she should've asked what clothes I liked first. When I complained she'd made accounts under my mother's name she blushed and said that she hadn't met my family yet, so I must be embarrassed. She asked if I was just scared to tell them about—about us.

"She walked over to me and held my hand between hers. They were soft and warm, but they felt freezing cold to me. She asked what kind of clothes I did like and it felt like everything just...snapped."

He leans forward, pushing his hair back with one hand, not meeting my eyes. I squeeze our connected hands and he sighs.

"I wrenched my hand out of hers and told her to stop following me and stop sending me stuff. I didn't actually think that would be the end, and it wasn't. She stopped waiting on my path to school, but I would always see her around; on my way home, leaving the school, walking around on the weekends; she was everywhere. My friends didn't understand why I was so afraid of her, and I couldn't explain it to them.

"I don't remember much of that day, except for that it was a Saturday, and late in the afternoon. Everyone else was out of the house, and I was up in my room doing homework. Then, I just blacked out. When I woke up I was on my bed, and my profile had posted a million messages and photos—photos of me and my stalker in bed together, and messages about how girls at school were annoying and creepy, and how I was only faking my friendships, since I just want guys to leave me alone, and, most of all, how I was in love with a girl named Kishi Yukana.

"My father was furious. No matter how much my sister defended me he just kept saying how it was all my fault, that I let her follow me and put trackers and cameras on me.

"The next time I saw her I was with Arisa, who kept her away from me and threatened her with jail, but she didn't look like she cared. She just kept talking about how everyone was keeping us apart no matter how much we love each other."

His hand shakes in mine. "After that, I couldn't go to school anymore. If I just hadn't picked up that bag—I regret that moment every second of my life. If I'd just walked by..."

He tightens his grip in mine to stop it from shaking and I do the same.

"My mother, sister and homeroom teacher helped me out. I started living on my own, far away from her, and on my own, so no one could find my address." His lips tighten into a thin line.

"I thought I could finally live a normal life. But I still feel sick when people look at me or gossip about me, and especially when girls approach me. I'm just a spineless loser who can only be cold. I put up walls to keep people out, but mostly to defend myself. Even when my father yelled at me, I couldn't say anything back. None of my classmates believed me when I told them what happened. They all knew I didn't make genuine relationships with them. I just let people in. This is all my fault. I...I just hate myself so much."

I don't know what to say. How could he echo my thoughts so exactly? But if I can't even console myself, how am I supposed to help him? But I have things I want to say, so I guess the best thing I can do is let them out.

"I can't say I understand exactly how you feel," I whisper, "because I don't. But I...I can try to understand. Because I hate myself too." I smile sadly as his eyes widen.

"Why would you—"

"It sounds pathetic next to your story," I start, not meeting his eyes, "but I was bullied in middle school. Really, really badly. They hid my clothes, mocked me, threw rocks at me; all the average tropes. When I tried to keep my feelings in I'd cry. When I tried to fight back they'd beat me up. When I tried to tell a teacher they locked me in a shed overnight and wouldn't let me out until I promised not to tell anyone.

"And so I was known as Haru Mori: the weak gay boy who always cried and never fought back. And that was my life throughout elementary school.

"I promised myself I'd change; that I'd turn my life around in middle school. But I came out to someone I thought was my friend and the next day the entire school knew about it. Luckily I was old enough I could understand things wouldn't get better unless I told someone, so I was able to put a stop to it. But I'm still scared. I'm terrified."

My hands trembles in his, just as his did in mine.

"I met someone again, at the festival. He was someone who'd hurt Emi, and had threatened me, and I was ready to stand up to him. But when the time came, I...I just froze. I couldn't say anything. I couldn't do anything. I'm still just as scared and weak as I used to be. I can't even say what I really am. But I'm trying to forgive myself."

"Mori..."

That's it. That's what I wanted and didn't want all at the same time. "Just tell me if you don't like it," I murmur, looking up at him. "I'm going to give you a hug."

Without waiting for a response I turn my body and wrap my arms around him, one over his shoulder and one under, just as my mother used to do when I was like.

"It's not your fault, Kazuki!" I cry. "None of this is your fault!"

He gasps lightly, reaching up a trembling hand to hold my arm.

"I'm so frustrated. Why would no one believe you? You did nothing wrong, and they didn't believe you, after you tried so hard! I just wish..." I feel tears gather in my eyes but I don't try to stop them this time. "I wish I'd met you back then! I would've believed you! I would've been on your side, even if no one else was. I would've been your friend..."

He clutches at my arm, burying his face into my shoulder. I feel wet tears soak into my shirt and I hold him tighter.

"I wish...I wish I'd met you earlier. Maybe I could've helped you..."

"We could've helped each other, right?" I use my top hand to wipe away my tears, then let out a choked laugh. "But this is like our second chance. I want to help you, Tsukasa."

I wince. His first name just kinda slipped out there. What if he doesn't like it? What if—

"Thank you," he whispers, and I can feel him smile lightly into my shoulder. "I want to help you too, Haru."