What Love Can Do to You

Moron

It was...amusing, watching Ueno get a taste of her own bitter medicine. Watching her storm off was the most delightful thing ever, seriously. Seeing her retreat so calmly into the vast sea of students, Shoya had yet another reason to appreciate Shoko. There were so many things that he warm-heartedly admired about her, and if only he could just be around her for long enough; but... recent circumstances have over-prioritized anything that Shoya had to say, and he often wondered where he stood on Shoko's list...

All of the adversity was over, and everyone was finally at peace, for just a little while. (That's what Shoya liked to tell himself.) Ever since this crazy thing began back in elementary school, everything was thrown into a loop, and there it went.

What a ride...since then, all of his actions were emotionally driven by the thought of her; her smile, her tears soaked eyes. He found himself doing some crazy things in the likes of her. Things like learning ASL so hopefully they could communicate peacefully one day...even though he was keen on the idea that she wanted nothing to do with him anymore.

Things were so emotionally drained and he had no idea what to do with himself anymore. It had been several long years ever since he met her and he was beginning to wish they had never crossed paths, (in the best way possible!)

Dusk is setting in, and the wind was starting to pick up. The trees shook lightly, leaves dragged around on the asphalt, and the people began pulling out their sweaters for the evening.

He felt as if he was running out of time, to ask Shoko. How would he ask her? When would he ask her? Sometimes, he wished he had someone to talk to about his feelings with. His mom was out of the question, since, she was too happy all the time, or as far as she went to show. Nagatsuka was a little awkward now. The way he treated him for the past month, he didn't feel comfortable talking about this stuff with him, especially since he was somewhat close to Shoko.

Because of this, he began to question if he should look into journaling. He'd read everywhere online that things like journaling and scrapbooking could be a good alternative for, basically, not having any friends. One of these days, he'd find one. He had to lie to himself to feel better.

Despite being depressed and having all these feelings that he had, he tried to maintain an at-least acceptable image. He liked to think that he didn't not one bit come off as suicidal! But boy, was it exhausting. His shoulders slouched, his heavy school bag basically amputating his arm.

"Oh, what the heck..." his eyes fluttered closed, and he pathetically smiled, defeated, and desperate for something to relieve this emotional weight on his shoulders. He headed into a small shop, run by a sweet old lady and her husband. These stores were essentially out of business in Japan, but there were plenty in the US, according to the internet.

He straightened his posture, and flashed a quick smile and wave to the cashier, and quickly headed to the stationary isle. He was ashamed and never wanted to be seen in a store like this. Pathetic. No man has business inside of any of these cheap stores meant to steal all of your money. The notepads were, to say the least, picked over, or had something weird and embarrassing printed on the front in (broken) English, in an attempt to be cool. Bright, dazzling and happy colors. The glossy covers shine, reflecting the irritatingly blinding store lighting. It was much too much for his tired eyes. They said things like, '#pretty', 'beyoutiful' or, 'girl rock'.

Shouldn't Japan just stick to Japanese...?

He went with a plain blue one, that was also college ruled. It seemed like it didn't have nearly enough pages for what he was about to write in this thing.

He shoved his hand into his pocket, picking out the last bit of money he had left in his pocket- a few quarters. He figured that it shouldn't cost more than a few cents. 3 quarters.

"Actually, that'd be a dollar, sir." said the young woman as the cashier.

"Huh...oh!" Shoya smiles apologetically and fishes for one more quarter. Once the transaction is completed, he takes his notebook in a plastic bag and rushes out, and his dignity...leaves him.

Now it was pitch dark outside, and no one walked the streets then. It was just Shoya and his thoughts...

He found himself wishing someone would slaughter him right then and there. He promised his mother that he wouldn't harm himself anymore, so if that was the case, then surely someone would do it for him...for the right price.

He idly scratches his cheek as he wanders down the road. Always trying to distract himself from things...things like Shoko. He just wanted some closure. That's all he wished for with Shoko.

The walk wasn't so much as anything more than a normal school day. Nothing happened, just Shoya, and his thoughts. He collected them, one by one, and managed to come to some conclusion and cleared his head so that he wasn't kept awake all night.

He shuffled onto the ground, the carpet scraping his entire leg, he pushed himself under his little desk, and reached for his backpack that wasn't but an inch away from him on the carpet, and he set it on the desk, idle by his thoughts once again, unzipping it, and pulling his new purchase from inside. He shoved the bag away again, and pulled the book out of the plastic bag.

This is stupid...

The pencil touched the cheapish paper, but no words came of it. He'd got the simple concept of writing down your thoughts, but couldn't organize them into one simple sentence to begin with.

He huffed and jumped to the conclusion that he'd wasted his money. Journaling could never work for him and he would never do it. He was just too busy.

He went as far as to write, i'm not okay, only to humor himself, but everything began there. His thoughts equated into words and he was able to get it out and onto paper. No one would see it anyways, so what's the point of having it make sense? There was none. So he just wrote. Whatever word he was feeling, and that was it.

He found himself well rested the next morning, and came to his newest conclusion that he slept quite well, and writing does work, and he would try again the following night.

-

Things were a rolling stone back at school. Everyone acted normal again, and everyone had begun to rebuild old bridges with each other again, for the most part. This didn't relieve him as much as he hoped it would, but it was good enough.

Shoko was absent that day. Shoya, in the back of his head somewhere, decided that he'd try and talk to Shoko. He decided to ask the classmates about it, and they said she'd caught a cold. He understood if she needed to take a day off after everything.

One classmate teased him and said something about going to visit Shoko. Shoya did like that idea a lot, but he couldn't say that!... He'd go as far as to lie about not knowing where she lived, (despite everyone knowing the truth.) that wasn't a problem for long, as Nagatsuka happily gave him the address on a napkin covered is spaghetti sauce. He took it hesitantly, laughing along with the people who hated him most.

Eh, it was like poking a sleeping lion...it was the only thing he had.

He thought about throwing it in the trash later on, and forgetting about this entire thing- that was the logical option; but what is it worth? It couldn't hurt anyone...