nameless
It’s an unspoken tragedy.
I know it will never work between us. Just look at him. He’s got these gorgeous eyes, emotive and bright, holding the secrets of years of character-building. His hair, vibrant and flowing, always perfectly placed, framing his face in a way I find simply entrancing. He even has a name: Hinamoto. It’s beautiful, rare. So few people around me are granted names. A beautiful boy, so far out of my league.
And destined for someone else.
He has a harem, you know. A posse of girls, each filling a different archetype, all with one desirable thing that sets them apart, and constantly fighting. I’m certain if it weren’t for him, they would get along and be the best of friends. Sometimes, I can see it: the confusion. Why are we fighting? What is so special about him? Why do I feel this way, when I know I would prefer something else? It is tragic. Sometimes I’ll see chemistry between them, for a few minutes, a beautiful moment, before they remember their fate, the inextricable magnetism they have towards him.
I don’t know whether it makes it better or worse, that they have no more chance with him than I do.
He is destined for Her. She also has a name: Yukara. She is stunning, and I can somewhat see why he likes her. She has this long beautiful blonde hair, I sometimes wish I was close enough to touch. I wonder how soft it would be. Never a hair out of place, except near him, to show her openness and sensitivity. Always calculated, always seductive. These wide blue eyes, so deep and caring, shining with her inner emotion, tears or joy. Often both. Slim hands, delicate, caressing a stone jaw. She’s distanced, but only enough to make her desirable. She’s open, enough to seem sensitive, but never strange. She’s perfect, as perfect as he, and his perfect match.
And then there’s us.
Without the grace of even a name, black hair, black eyes, clothes in greyscale, straight off the mannequin. Background. We can see the spotlight: it follows him, or sometimes her, or, very occasionally, his posse. Sometimes it shows some Randoms to further the Plot. You will sometimes awake with a changed look, personality, and clothing style. You will sometimes be given this purpose, and inevitably you will hope: will I be important? One day? Only to wake up the next day as you’ve always been. Forgettable.
The worst part is that I can’t help it.
He was designed to be the most attractive and desirable person someone could meet. You can’t help but watch when he walks by. You can’t help but listen when he talks. You can’t help but cry when he’s hurt, and you can’t help but laugh when he’s happy. No matter how much logic dictates that I could never have him, no matter how many times I cry myself to sleep over him, I can’t deny that I love him. And it hurts, so, so much.
Why are so many people obsessed with unrequited love?
There was a moment, ages ago. I had one of those days, where I was given a Purpose. I remember, I was Kipa, then. The only name I’ve ever had. Hinamoto looked at me. I was used to show his effect on girls – my long brown hair was captured in his soft hand, and I sighed and fell only more in love. I remember that day often. Though he knew me as Kipa, the girl who shared his Maths class, instead of the nameless faceless genderless being I am, he noticed me.
I think it made everything worse.
There was a long time after that where I couldn’t bring myself to leave my bed. Once I had lost Kipa, and was back to myself. Knowing he would never look at me again. Could not physically see me again, because characters like us are not to be seen. I approached one of Hinamoto’s posse, at some point. I wanted to ask her what it felt like, loving him and knowing he would never love you back. I could sense the crowd’s nervousness and tension as I approached. This was against the law. I was not allowed to intrude with the Real Characters. I came upon her, stood in front of her, and asked her. She stayed silent. I tried to get her attention, and it felt like she was seeing right through me. She opened her mouth to respond, and I felt hope rise up in me, and she called out his name, stood up, and walked straight through me.
It’s an unspoken tragedy.
This is the life I am bound to, and there’s no respite. Nothing to take the edge off. We watch from the sidelines as the Real Characters play out the scenes they were Destined for, and we wallow in hopelessness.
I wonder if the Real Characters ever feel this way. Do they feel as trapped as we? Do they have desires that do not align with their Purpose? Regardless, I wish I was one of them. It would be better than the existence I am consigned to now. Do they ever wish they could be one of us?












