A rose to grind

-22-

             There was a sense of trepidation that came with knowing the future. It was a burden that laid heavy on my shoulders. Because, in the hypothesis that that future could be vastly different from what you had imagined, it would take a toll on you. That was why, prophets were usually described as uptight. For me, I could never interact with the plotline for fear that an unimaginable event, outside of our expectations, would occur.

And perhaps, that was the cause of my uneasiness, a constant worry that couldn't be shaken off easily. Maybe I felt a source of envy for the ones who needn't felt the need to occupy their thoughts and had not lived in the present that would fall into the same future, a future that had already predicted your downfall. My downfall, specifically. It was a humourless joke played by God. The useless talk of fate, that dwindled with my thought process from day-to-day. I had never sat back to think about the outlandishness of all this. My transmigration, and Narcisse's appearance. If I put myself in the shoes of a reader, wasn't this a perfect recipe for a book?

This was all a theory, for the reason that I somehow landed in a novel. I Imagined myself as a protagonist, living through the eyes of a villain as they watched me, and reviewed my progress, laugh at my misery, cry at how ordeals spun. Weren't they the evil ones?

...

It was not as though I, myself, had a good heart. Maybe I did deserve it. Tell me, were you guys watching me?

A humourless, self-deprecating smile tugged at my lips, and I intertwined my fingers together an behind my back, in the polite posture of a good-natured youth. Who was I even talking to anyways? I must be losing my sanity ever so slowly, unnoticeable, but the damage had been done. The tranquillity was almost ephemeral, but sweet, like tasting cotton candy on the tip of your tongue, but because it disappeared so quickly, you'd yearn for it more and more. This could have been a reward for my efforts that all ended up in vain.

It felt like I running around in circles, and somehow always ended up at the same rendezvous funnily. I breathed in through my mouth, feeling stuffy inside my chest, which I attempted to zthe by rubbing my chest, but all the more increased the melancholy.

"-Yugo."

Someone called my name, more of like an admission. And I never othered to turn around, but by experience, I could pinpoint who it was subsequently. I arranged my necktie even tighter. Too distracted by my overwhelming thoughts to care, my hair fell into messy bangs over my eyes. The sharp strands tickled my eyes, however, I was relieved I could find some sort of diversion. The voice behind me was another, and for the first time, annoyance didn't take over me.

"You have showered, right? The smell of soap overwhelms your natural scent," a hand clamped over my shoulder heavily. I nodded, and only then turned back. Etienne, himself, smelt nicer than usual, or perhaps it was only due to my good mood. He gave off a scent of fresh aftershave, a smell I found unagreeable. It attacked my nose, and filled my insides full of him. He was everywhere, and his smell clung to my skin.

"...are you really not going to talk to me?" A head settled on my shoulder, and two hands hesitantly gathered at my waist, slowly massaging my sides as if he were meekly apologizing through his weak actions. It was quite cute, and I felt inclined to respond for once. I felt his jaw move on my shoulder. "Yugo, if you don't talk to me, I'll take away your shower privileges. After all, I love it more when you smell like yourself."

Never mind. Conversing with Etienne was a pain in the ass.

"Your mouth, and brain is full of shit," I didn't shy away from remarking. If it were me from years ago, when I first crossed over to this world, I would have kept my tail between my legs and kept my silence. But Etienne had grown too tolerant, fortunately, that I could get away with whatever I said. I thought he somewhat liked it when I responded in this way, when I fought back with a fight, it pleased him, and only further served to prove my point about his person being the epitome of garbage true.