As the first semester drew to a close, the students of Kimetsu High's Modern English class were met with yet another group assignment. Despite their reluctance, classmates were split into groups of five and forced to partake in the month-long endeav...
I nestled into the comforting embrace of my duvet, allowing the day's events to gracefully recede into the folds of the past. With a gentle flutter, I closed my eyes, inviting the tranquility of the night to engulf my consciousness. In the absence of light, my mind transformed into an empty canvas, absorbing the profound darkness that surrounded me. The ethereal glow of the night illuminated the moments when I found utmost bliss. However, my sanctuary of serenity was shattered by, you guessed it, my brother.
"I don't like that guy," He finally chirped, shutting off his laptop.
It was glaringly apparent whom he was referring to when he talked about him, and there was little motivation for me to invest much concern. Truth be told, I anticipated this very reaction from him when it came to Genya. He wasn't particularly fond of most of my friends, and I couldn't confidently assert that Genya would be an exception. Certainly not in his eyes.
So, instead of engaging with Yuichiro's random complaint, I fortified the grip my eyelids had on my pupils and redirected my head to the other side. With our beds set apart, he couldn't possibly do much to disturb me. At least I hoped not.
That hope was soon to fleet away before it could portray itself.
"Please tell me you don't think anything else of him," He drawled. "Your taste can't be that bad,"
He theatrically simulated a vomiting noise with his mouth, prompting an eye roll from me in reaction to his immaturity. I hesitated to sink too deeply into his suggestion, mindful of my brother's tendency to jump to conclusions. Nevertheless, I found myself dwelling on it briefly, my cheeks warming up at the mere mention.
My thoughts traced back to earlier that same day when Genya and I shared a pleasant time in his Honda, reveling in each other's company. I could still recall his toothy smile, and the fangs within that complimented his sharp eyes. The echo of his laughter, triggered by my not-so-hilarious jokes, resonated repeatedly in my mind, as if I were searching for something meaningful within those cherished recollections.
Perhaps it was his chiseled basketball-honed physique or the natural highlights adorning his hair drawing my attention to every detail of his features. Whatever the case might've been, his entirety lingered persistently in my mind. I mentally slapped myself hoping to banish these unwanted musings to no avail. A part of me wished to reprimand my brother for subjecting me to this internal struggle. It'd be a shame if I was mentally forced to sleep on some unwanted thoughts and have an unpleasant dream about them.
That was something that happened often and made up for all of the memories I usually lost throughout the day. Despite its advantages, woken dreams remained an occurrence I dreaded. They ignited a flame of awareness within me that I longed to extinguish before the realm of possibilities took over.
"Yuichiro, he's not a bad guy, and I don-,"
"That's what they all say," He scoffed.
I shifted to face him, a frown etched on my face, clearly skeptical about Yuichiro's simmering irritation. In return, he met my gaze, mocking me with an expression that exuded both attitude and pride, as if his opinion held more precision than any I could conjure. Exhaling audibly, I tossed aside the heavy duvet enveloping my frame, yearning for the brisk winds to soothe my perspiring body. The night was humid.
"What is it?"
I watched as Yuichiro's eyebrows arched up in response to my question. Even he was well aware he got confused often.
"You don't like him," I acknowledged. "Tell me why,"
Yuichiro was clearly dumbfounded, his gaze fixed on the outside world through the window. The elusive wind, which typically avoided me, gracefully embraced him, tousling his hair as he immersed himself in contemplation. True to his nature, he never offered any explanation for his inexplicable loathing. I expected as much.
"His demeanor," He suddenly spoke up. "It's so off. Gives me the ick,"
I cringed in response to the ick comment.
That marked the first occasion when Yuichiro uttered something so out of character. It hinted at a potential change within him, yet discerning whether this change leaned towards positive or negative was a challenging feat. Regrettably, the signs pointed more towards the latter.
"You're not allowed to have icks. That's a girl thing,"
"I'm allowed to have whatever the fuck I want to," Yuichiro retorted with the roll of his eyes as he faced me.
I swallowed hard, averting my eyes from the piercing intensity of his stern gaze that seemed to shatter my very soul. Despite the frequency with which he raised his voice at me, I could never grow accustomed to the disconcerting effect it had, especially when coupled with his menacing glares. The mystery of how he managed to evoke such a visceral reaction from me remains beyond my understanding.
"I'm going to sleep," He mumbled, slamming his back against the mattress and going for the pull chain.
Just before he could turn the lamp between us off, I whispered a single "Good night."
In hushed anticipation, I lay in silence, expecting the customary reciprocated farewell that typically follows one's announcement into the night. Yet, Yuichiro undoubtedly conveyed his reluctance to leave me on a good note, and in hindsight, given the events that unfolded at school the following day, I realize I probably should've listened.
"Don't tell me I didn't warn you,"
Bring Bring
The nightstand alarm resonated through the room, serving as a relentless reminder that our schedules had enough room for hell. My brother, always the early riser, had already beaten me to consciousness. Instead of being gently roused by the melodious tones of my alarm, I abruptly jolted awake to the forceful impact of a pillow meeting my face with substantial pressure. It was unmistakably my brother's favorite weapon, if my groggy discomfort was any indication.
With a groan, I rushed out of bed, engaging in a fierce, but ultimately losing, race to the bathroom against my brother. About half of my morning was spent patiently sitting at the front of the restroom door where he portrayed his routine. My dad intermittently emerged from his room, wearing a perplexed expression that seemed to deepen with each passing second. Though I tried to dismiss it with a laugh whenever he strolled by, the underlying stress I felt was undeniable. Yuichiro always made it before me.
Eventually, both of us were finally finished and prepared for an additional school day. Our readiness alone proved this day promising in my eyes. The ambiance of our room radiated an unmistakable polish, and our attire exuded professionalism. In the case that professional meant a red GAP zip-up hoodie, black leggings, Nike socks, and some height-boosting platforms.
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Heh.
Word Count: 1189
(The models in the pictures aren't meant to look like the characters mentioned. They just give you an idea of what I'm describing if your imagination isn't working the way you want it to.)
