2 - The Longest Day, Part 1

  *****

  He’s not coming to school today...

  I was looking down at a message from Fuyu-chi displayed on my phone’s screen.

  A tightness gripped my chest.

  I want to skip school.

  I want to be there for him.

  But I know I shouldn’t.

  Fuyu-chi said it wasn’t that big of a deal. I can see him after school. I can see him tomorrow. He’s not going anywhere. He’s not going to disappear on me.

  I saw him yesterday morning and I can see him after school today.

  I don’t need to see him every morning.

  Logically, this is nothing.

  So, why does it not feel like nothing?

  I sent him a message.

  *****

  Ayaka said we should wait a bit before going out, so we didn’t leave until a little before lunch. I assumed we were going to eat lunch on our date—I mean, ‘platonic outing.’

  While I was waiting, I replied to a message from Haruhi.

  *****

  During a break between classes I noticed he had replied to my message from this morning.

  ‘I love you.’

  A warm feeling spread throughout my body.

  I had been telling him that basically since we met, but he’d only started saying it to me recently.

  Yeah, he really does love me, doesn’t he? By his definition. Since we started going out, he’ll sometimes get this dumb look on his face. Maybe it’s rude to describe it as dumb but that’s what it was. He’ll gaze at me with this really gentle smile like nothing else mattered in the world. It was much better than the expression he usually wore...

  I sighed.

  I want him to smile more...

  I sent him a reply.

  *****

  We were now standing outside of my house.

  Ayaka hadn’t put on her wig—or any makeup, as far as I could tell. She was wearing long pants and a puffy winter jacket which completely hid the curves of her body, so she really did look like a boy. A cute boy. A really cute boy that any straight guy would want to fuck.

  I wasn’t going to say that, though.

  Ayaka gave me a look.

  “Are you thinking that I look like a boy?”

  Yes.

  “No. Absolutely not. No boy could be as cute as you are.”

  She sighed and smirked slightly.

  “You can tell the truth, y’know. I think it’s funny when guys can’t quite tell if I’m a girl or a boy, but are clearly attracted to me and don’t know if that makes them gay.”

  I don’t think that ‘makes’ them gay...

  A subtle melancholic look briefly flitted across her face.

  “Sometimes, I think it would be even funnier if I actually was a boy...”

  “Hmm...?”

  Her cheeks flushed slightly as a grin spread across her face.

  “But then I remember how good it feels to—”

  I covered my ears. My pure, virgin ears. I knew she was going to say something vulgar. I didn’t need to hear it to know that. That’s who she was.

  She stopped talking and just looked at me like I was dumb until I spoke up.

  “Are you done?”

  She nodded and sound returned to my world.

  “But I know I like being a girl. That much is true. Because, as I was saying—”

  Her voice vanished again and she immediately doubled over laughing.

  I removed my hands from my ears and I could hear her laughter clearly. It was a hearty laugh, completely unrestrained and genuine. It kind of reminded me of my dad’s, but there was something about it that was oddly attractive.

  “...”

  If only it had been at a joke I had made and not at the joke of my existence.

  “HA HA HA HA HA...ha ha ha ha...pfft...HA HA.....ha...”

  I think she’s laughing so hard she’s struggling to breathe...

  “Are you okay?”

  She nodded and took a deep breath, seeming to regain her composure.

  “Your face is so funny.”

  She visibly stifled another burst of laughter.

  Sorry my face is so funny...

  Weren’t we supposed to be doing something?

  “So, where are we going to go? You don’t know the area, right? Is there somewhere you want me to take you?”

  She took a second to regain her composure before pulling out her phone.

  “I did a little bit of research, so I have a date plan.”

  “It’s not a date, it’s a ‘platonic outing.’”

  She waved her hand dismissively.

  “Yeah, that, whatever.”

  *****

  Is this what love is?

  Not my definition of love, but whatever his definition is?

  Is this the feeling that captured the hearts of so many people in all of the stories I’ve heard?

  It was always hard for me to understand what would drive some people to such lengths for a single person.

  Obviously, I feel that way about my mother, but she’s my mother, you know? We’re parent and child.

  That’s different...

  Or is it?

  I thought that was something unique to the relationship between a parent and child, but maybe it’s just love.

  Maybe the word love refers to too many things. Too many different but similar emotions. It’s confusing.

  Maybe he was right when he told me to stop saying I loved him.

  Maybe I didn’t really understand what love was.

  *****

  Ayaka led me to the outside of a convenience store.

  “Are we going to go shopping at a convenience store?”

  I know she’s an unusual girl, but surely she doesn’t think the convenience store is a good date—I mean, ‘platonic outing’—spot.

  She shook her head.

  “We aren’t going to be shopping. We’re going to be shoplifting.”

  [Please Note: The author does not condone any crimes that are committed or discussed by any character within this story. Please follow the laws of your respective countries. Thank you.]

  “You can do whatever you want, but I’m not stealing anything.”

  “Come on, you Goody Two-shoes. The entire point of this date is for you to expand your world and gain some experience. There’s no point if I’m the only one doing it.”

  “It’s not a date, it’s a ‘platonic outing.’”

  “Yeah, whatever.”

  “Look, I’m not going to steal anything.”

  She cocked her head to the side.

  “Why?”

  “I think stealing is bad.”

  Is that so wrong of me?

  She took a deep breath and then gave a long, drawn-out sigh.

  “I could understand if we were talking about stealing from a person, but stealing from a corporation is completely different—you’re not hurting another human being.”

  “What about the owner?”

  I think they might be human.

  She looked me dead in the eyes.

  “Owners aren’t human. If the only value you have is that you own something, then you have no value—what you own has value. And does someone worthless have any right to own something of value?”

  ...

  “I don’t know if I agree.”

  She sadly shook her head.

  “You don’t have to agree—I’m right. Maybe one day you’ll understand...”

  “I don’t know about that.”

  “Okay, bootlicker. If you don’t want to steal anything, you don’t have to. I’ll go myself.”

  Sorry for being a bootlicker...

  Ayaka came out of the convenience store carrying a full bag of groceries.

  “I thought you were going to shoplift?”

  She slid a candy bar out of her pocket.

  “I did.”

  “Why not steal everything?”

  She looked at me like I was dumb.

  “Why not just steal a few things? Is it always all or nothing? Also, how do you expect me to steal all of this without getting caught? Where would I hide it all?”

  “So you just stole a single candy bar?”

  “A free candy bar every time you go to the store makes life a little bit sweeter.”

  *****

  I like meeting new people. I like listening to them talk about themselves or their day. I can listen enraptured forever, no matter how dull or uninteresting they think their own life is. They’re all fascinating to me. It doesn’t matter who they are.

  So I thought I loved everyone.

  I also like to touch people, to feel connected to them physically. It doesn’t matter who they are. It just feels nice.

  So I thought I loved everyone.

  I like just spending time with people, no matter who they are. As long as they are kind. As long as they are honest. As long as they are good.

  So I thought I loved everyone.

  *****

  As we were walking to wherever our next destination was, I received another message from Haruhi. She told me to get well soon and that she would come by my house after school. I replied saying that I was actually feeling much better, but I would still be looking forward to it.

  ‘I miss you.’

  Is that cringe?

  Haruhi...

  I sighed.

  Maybe it is cringe, but they’re my honest feelings...

  Ayaka spoke up from beside me.

  “Did you get a message from your girlfriend?”

  “Yeah. How did you know?”

  She pointed at her own face.

  “’Cause you got this dumb look on your face, like a lovesick idiot.”

  Sorry for being a lovesick idiot...

  Was it that obvious?

  She sighed.

  “I can’t believe you’re talking to another girl in the middle of our date.”

  “I told you, it’s not a date—it’s a ‘platonic outing.’”

  “Oh yeah, you might have said something like that...”

  *****

  But I guess what I feel for him now is different. I don’t think it was always this way, but at some point it turned into something else. Every time we touch, it grows just a little bit deeper. I don’t think I’ve ever felt this way about anyone else—

  Wait.

  Maybe I have. If that’s the case, I hope that my fears aren’t true. I can’t help but think that’s true. I’ve seen it too many times before.

  I love everyone, but I guess I have a soft spot for quiet types like them.

  I know they have a story to tell too.

  I don’t want to force it out of them.

  I want them to trust me enough to finally open up.

  I don’t think she ever did.

  I hope that he will.

  *****

  Ayaka led me to a spot underneath a bridge.

  She sat down and patted the ground next to her.

  “Come.”

  I sat down next to her.

  “So, are we just going to eat junk food underneath a bridge?”

  Is this her idea of a date—‘platonic outing’?

  She leaned back against the wall and stretched.

  “More or less. It’s nostalgic for me—I have a lot of memories hanging out in places like this.”

  “Well, I have zero memories of hanging out in places like this.”

  She nodded.

  “That’s the idea of this date. For you to experience something new, to make new memories, to expand your world.”

  “‘Platonic outing.’”

  “Whatever.”

  She emptied the contents of the plastic bag right onto the ground in front of us.

  “Is this sanitary?”

  “They’re all in packaging, dipshit.”

  Sorry for being a dipshit...

  “What about my hands? I need to wash my hands before I eat.”

  She sighed and handed me a small bottle of something.

  “I bought some hand sanitizer because I figured you wouldn’t eat if I didn’t.”

  While I was cleaning my hands with the hand sanitizer, she spat into her hands and rubbed them together a bit before wiping them off on her pant leg.

  “That ought to do it.”

  “Gross.”

  “It’s just saliva, shit-for-brains. It’s in your mouth 24-7—what’s so gross about it?”

  I’m sorry I have shit for brains...

  I held out the bottle of hand sanitizer.

  “That’s beside the point. It’s not going to get rid of germs effectively.”

  “So what? I did it all the time as a kid, and I’m still kickin’.”

  “How often did you get sick as a kid?”

  She thought for a moment.

  “A lot.”

  I figured.

  “Well, do whatever you want.”

  “I will.”

  *****

  I gently stroked the back of my phone case to calm myself down. The rough texture caused by the scratches was kind of stimulating. I found myself doing it often, especially whenever I felt anxious.

  It reminded me of them. My mom helped me pick out this phone. My best friend got me this case. And my meeting with him resulted in these scratches. It was a physical reminder of all of the people I truly loved. There was no way I could replace it, even though the phone itself was horribly outdated.

  It was top of the line in its time, so I could still play Meteor Witches on the absolute lowest settings. Barely. But I was used to it. He sometimes called me a ‘gamer,’ but I never really considered myself to be one. I wouldn’t say that I loved video games—they were just a way I connected with people. I still liked to play them, but things like ‘frame rate’ and ‘game feel’ didn’t matter to me the way they mattered to him. If he ever saw what the frame rate looked like when I was playing, he would probably drag me out to buy a brand-new phone right then and there.

  I smiled at the thought.

  *****

  We were just sitting together under the bridge, munching on the snacks Ayaka had bought. They were all weirdly flavored things, so I wasn’t enjoying it very much, but Ayaka was going to town on some dried squid.

  Ayaka cocked her head.

  “Why are you looking at me like that?”

  “I’m still surprised by your hair being a wig.”

  She played with a few strands of her hair.

  “Mia’s hair is a wig. My hair is all natural.”

  What’s the difference?

  “Didn’t you say the different parts of your identity were all you?”

  “I did say that, but maybe it’s a little more complicated than that. I’m talking more metaphorically here, y’know? Mia is a part of me, but she’s also apart from me.”

  “I guess...”

  She thought for a moment.

  “I play all of the roles, so they’re all me. But some things are compartmentalized to certain roles, basically. Mia’s hair is one of those things. If I feel like Mia, I’ll put on the wig. Conversely, if I put on the wig, I’ll feel like Mia. That’s why I was wearing it when I was drinking last night—I was thinking about idol stuff before you interrupted me. I guess because there’s a different name for that side of my personality, it feels more separate.”

  “I think that makes sense. If you go by a different name whenever you’re acting a certain way, I can see how you would start to associate the actions with the name and view it as separate.”

  I wonder if Fuyuko gets everyone to call her a different nickname so that she can easily compartmentalize the different ways she acts with them. Maybe her little quirk is more thought-out than I realized.

  Or she just likes being called by different cute nicknames. It might just be that simple.

  “The wig is also part of my image as an idol. It’s clearly not real, but it’s part of the fantasy the audience wants to believe. It’s a known fact, but die-hard fans know not to bring it up. Fuyuyu’s never told you, right?”

  “Yeah.”

  So Fuyuko already knows. I guess I’m stupid for believing it was her natural hair in the first place. I just never thought about it that much.

  “If you mention it on social media, you’ll have a horde of rabid fans harassing you and telling you to kill yourself. My fans are kind of crazy like that.”

  I did think that there was something a little cultlike about that concert.

  “Aren’t you intentionally trying to cultivate that, though? With the raffle and fan-service stuff?”

  She thought for a moment, then shrugged.

  “I want them to love me. I want them to obsess over me. I want them to want me. I don’t want them to send death threats to strangers. But I guess that comes with the territory.”

  “People will do crazy things in the name of love, especially the parasocial kind. Have you had to deal with any stalkers or anything?”

  She shook her head.

  “People know that I wear a wig, but my real appearance is still a secret to the public. That was one of my intentions with crafting such a different persona. I can walk around freely without having people know it’s me.”

  “That certainly seems beneficial.”

  That might be part of the reason behind the rise of VTubers and virtual idols. It makes it easier to separate work and real life.

  She grinned and rubbed her hands together mischievously.

  “It also means I can hook up with fans without them knowing. They get to hear the ecstatic moans of their favorite idol—it’s surprise fan service that they don’t even know they’re getting.”

  I would like to get off this topic.

  “So, do you prefer having short hair?”

  She thought for a moment.

  “I like the look of any length of hair depending on my mood, but shorter hair is easier to maintain. If I’m going to wear a wig anyway, I might as well have the best of both worlds, y’know?”

  I did know. My hair was actually longer than hers. I had been growing it out recently—less growing it out and more being too lazy to get a haircut, really. It wasn’t a fashion statement or anything. It did take longer for it to dry, now. And it took more shampoo too.

  Maybe I should get it cut...

  Nah.

  “I get it.”

  She examined my hair.

  “Y’know, your hair’s a mess.”

  I know.

  “We don’t need to talk about me.”

  She leaned in closer, seemingly examining me even more.