#the write grump

I know he’s dead.

I’ve always known, really. But I act like I don’t. I pretend he’s still alive, that I see him and talk to him. They think I’m crazy. They’re right, but not in the way that they think I am.

But I know the truth.

How could I not? I relive the memory every night without fail. And every night I am reminded of how he died so violently doing what he loved most. That his own passion had killed him before a crowd as if he were one of his own spectacles. The final puff of smoke was the crimson cloud dispersing through the water.

I’ve always known.

He deserved to live, yet he died for no reason. No reason at all. Why? I can’t find anything to justify it. Nothing at all. And since there is nobody to blame… I blame myself. I don’t have a reason to blame myself, so I make up a reason. I tell myself that he didn’t deserve to die, so by that logic, I did. I did more than he did, at the very least.

I learned to believe my own lies.

Sometimes I even forget that he really is dead. I’m a rather convincing liar, you know. Sometimes, I almost think I do really see him when I pretend to talk to him. Though I can’t see him. If I could, I know he’d be frowning at me, the one who deserved to die.

I want to die so very badly. It’s what I deserve.

I don’t why I deserve to die, I just simply do. It won’t bring him back, but he shouldn’t have died in the first place. For some reason, it was me who should have died, I figured. I thought this irrational thought so many times until it was no longer irrational, but indisputable fact.

I can’t live on when I want to die.

So I did what all good magicians must do.

I put on a show.

I would put on the most grand and all-encompassing facade that anyone had ever seen. I would fool everyone, including myself. I would make others happy because I myself felt nothing but bitterness and grief. I would encourage others to believe while I had long since given up hope.

And so I poured every ounce of myself into this facade, going only with the thought that if I entertained and enchanted people, they would never have to feel as empty and loathing as I. It was my duty and my responsibility to give these innocent people a service- it was the least I could do. It’s what I must do, if I must live.

I’m so empty.

I pour myself out all day, every day, so that when I go to bed at night I am filled to the brim with the terrors and the memories. The hallucinations become increasingly vivid with every passing night. And so, each night I have to hack away at myself in order to cut out the terrible, pitiful parts of me. I keep a knife under my pillow just to make it more convenient.

If I act like I don’t know what I’m doing, they can’t stop me. They would try to stop me from punishing myself if I told them I knew I was doing it. So I just pretend.

Nightmares, hallucinations, amnesia… excuses abound so I may continue to live my life as the corpse I deserve to be.

I’m such a good liar, aren’t I?

And I’ll continue to lie. If they start to catch on, I’ll run. I ran away from home, I ran away from the circus, and I ran away from her. I stay in the circus once again because it keeps us moving. Never in one place for too long. Never too close to anyone, while still doing my service to society.

I’m a joke.

Do I believe in magic? Well, perhaps. After all, how else could I have been able to fool so many people? How else could I have been able to fool myself?

I wonder what my father thinks of me now.

Except he doesn’t think.

I will always take responsibility for my actions. If something is my fault, I will do my best to fix it. And when something can’t be fixed, than I’ll bear whatever burden is caused. That’s how I was raised to be, and that’s how I’ll always live.

I think it’s a good trait to have, to be responsible and reliable. The problem is… well, I’m human. And us humans tend to make some pretty bad choices at some point or another, right? We make mistakes all the time, whether we mean to or not. Big mistakes, little mistakes- they just kind of happen and that’s that.

Though sometimes, we make pretty big mistakes. Well, actually… I don’t like to call it a mistake. I would never call her a mistake. I guess what I’ll say is this- us people? We make bad choices sometimes. And I made the worst choice of my life that night.

It wasn’t even why you probably think it is. This isn’t about my daughter, entirely.Yes, she was conceived that night without our intention, but that’s not what I’m talking about. I mean, it is, but it’s not- this is really hard to explain. I don’t really have a way with words and all that. Bear with me.

Okay, so we were at a party. I’d never been to any parties like it before; though the only other parties I’d gone to were birthday parties and my cousin’s quinceañera. This was a high school party, and it was really different, much like everything in America. I’d been living in America for less than a year, but I got along pretty well. I had friends at school, and a steady girlfriend. Things at home were rough as far as money goes, but my parents were doing their best. Well, sort of. I mean, they were, but my dad really was struggling.

So he drank. A lot. He would wait until my mother would go to bed, and then he would drink. It scared me, and one night I asked to stop. I tried to take the bottle out of his hand, and he hit me across the face. After that, I never once tried to stop him. I was angry, though. Very angry that my father had become such a person. And so, I drank too.

I know, that’s not very good judgement. I said I was one who takes responsibility for my actions. But that doesn’t mean I don’t make poor choices. It just means I have to deal with a lot of consequences.

I drank out of spite, I think is the right word for it. I drank because I was bad that he drank. That sounds stupid now, but at the time I think it made sense, probably. It had to have, or I wouldn’t have done it, I guess.

So that night, at the party, I drank. There was no shortage of alcohol, and so I drank. And drank. And drank. I drank until I couldn’t feel any sense or emotion in me. The whole world was spinning, and things were okay because I didn’t have to feel any of the things I’d been dealing with. And at that moment, nothing was a bad idea. I was out of my mind and I wanted to do something fun.

I think I already said this, but I was at the party with my girlfriend. And she was pretty sober, I think. I don’t remember- a lot of this is from her memory. I asked her to tell me the truth about it. And so from her memory and mine, here’s what happened.

I was wasted. I took her by the hand and was speaking something in Spanish- she didn’t understand. I dragged her into the bedroom of the house we were in. She was amused by how drunk I was, and decided to humor me, walking in with me. We started to make out and all that stuff, but we’d done that before. That wasn’t new or anything by that point.

Though this time I kept going. I began to try and undress her. She was surprised, and suggested that I get some rest and we try it when I was sober. I didn’t want to stop, though. So I tried to convince her, saying we’d waited so long, that I was so attracted to her… who knows what sort of nonsense I rattled off, really. She still said she’d rather wait until we were both in our right minds. So I pulled her into another kiss, and every time we pulled away I asked her again. It took four tries until she gave in.

And so it happened. That was our first time having sex.

After the fact, I felt awful. Horrid. To think that I’d coerced her… she couldn’t have- she didn’t give an enthusiastic and genuine yes, and yet I didn’t stop. I felt like a monster. I was a monster. She tried to assure me that she did say yes and it was okay, but I know I backed her into a corner. I know I had to convince her. To be honest, even if she tells me I didn’t, I know what I did. Even though she did say yes, she didn’t at first. And I kept going until I got that yes, even if it wasn’t honest. I raped her, didn’t I?

Six weeks later, she found out she was pregnant. When she told me the news, I didn’t know what to think. Almost immediately after, she insisted on getting an abortion. She didn’t want the child- she couldn’t have it; it would be too bad for her and her family’s image if people knew she was a teenage mom. But I just… well, I mean, if she really, really wanted that. I wouldn’t stop her. I wouldn’t control her body again.

But I asked anyways. I asked her if she would keep the child, if I were to raise the child. If she would give birth, and if she didn’t want to raise the child, to allow me to. If I was going to make those choices, I was going to take responsibility. That’s how I was raised.

Nobody ever decides to murder somebody at random, you know. Well… I don’t believe that’s how it works, at the very least. I could be wrong- as of late it seems to be that I quite often am. Though I’m fairly certain about this, as I would best know, wouldn’t I? No, nobody simply decides to murder without a reason in their mind, be it a bizarre or even quite rational reason. In my case, I like to think it was rational, but nothing in my life was rational or conventional from the moment I was taken away. Honestly, I hesitate to call it a life, as it was anything but. I was not addressed with humanity during those years, so perhaps it would be best to say that my life took a hiatus, if you will. A very long hiatus that I have finally returned from. Suffice it to say, I started my years of massacre for a very specific reason. A turning point- no, not turning. A breaking point. Because after that moment, I snapped like a twig and would not look back until so much later.

I was on the cusp of fourteen, and it had been just shy of two years since I had been taken to America by my father. Of course, he was not really my father, by any meaning of the word. But that’s all I ever knew him as. Father.

While everything up to that point was horrific-I will save you the gory details-I still was able to survive. I took a deep breath and tried to forget all the horrible things. To forget that I was a captive in both that house and my mind. I remained complacent so that he would play nice with me. And that’s what he did. Played.

I sat still while he dyed my hair pink. I stood still as he dressed me in frilly garments that looked as though they were straight from a fairy tale. I didn’t dare move a muscle as he took picture after picture of me, his doll. And when that was done, I would lie still and close my eyes as he took me to his room. I didn’t want the tears to come- he hated it when I cried like that. I was always still. Always. I couldn’t dare move, and I wouldn’t. I was a doll. His doll.

Though that winter, when I was just shy of fourteen, it happened. I didn’t know it at first; how could I have? Things were the same routine every day, and by this point it was such a dull pain in my heart that I saw no reason to look for anything but the same thing as how it always was. It simply was the way things were. I was his doll; a beautiful, youthful, and unchanging doll that would not dare move lest he was the one to orchestrate me.

But there was one problem.

One day, I started to change. I truly did not notice at first. I think it went on for a month, maybe two… then, we both noticed.

He knew I wasn’t gaining weight- he fed me the same meal every day for two years prior and each day after until I left. He asked me all sorts of weird questions as I looked down at my growing stomach. I didn’t exactly understand at first, trying to piece it together- he spoke so fast, and I was still learning English. Though after some time, I realized.

I was going to bear a child.

I didn’t know how to feel. How was I supposed to feel? I was thirteen, a glorified hostage, and the child I was carrying was that of my “father”? I was horrified, though there was nothing I could do, I figured.

Days passed. Father came to see me less and less, as he looked pensive- angry, even. I stayed in my room, alone. Except I wasn’t exactly alone anymore, was I? I was with my child to be. Oddly enough, that thought began to give me solace. It was so bittersweet. Soon, I wouldn’t be alone in this world, but… but did I want to bring someone into such a hell of a house? I didn’t have a choice, though the thought did still weigh on my mind.

I began spending all my time in front of the mirror, marveling at what was happening. That I would have someone, someone to love and be loved by. Someone who would be my family, I thought. Even if everyone and everything else in this world was terrible, I would have someone now, wouldn’t I? I began to fantasize about the very idea of my loneliness being quelled at last.

One morning, a couple of weeks after the realization, Father came to my room. I hadn’t seen him in days, which was a record. I rather liked his absence. There was nothing when he wasn’t around, and I loved it that way. Nothingness.

He carried in a tray with my meal and a drink. He had never come to bring me food. Nobody did- it was simply at my bedside when I woke up each morning. Though today, he brought my breakfast. I thought that maybe he would treat me better now that we were having a child. Maybe it would change him if he had a child around. I began to hope that things would be better. That it would change everything.

Such thoughts were short-lived.

I ate the meal with gratitude, and drank the beverage of course. I would not waste any of his generosity. It did not take long before I felt unimaginably tired. He smiled and told me to go to sleep. I did.

The next morning, I woke up in my bed as usual. I looked to the side and saw my meal was laid out in the usual place. I sat up to get out of bed, and felt a sharp pain. Glancing down, my eyes grew wide.

My stomach was as flat as a board.

Upon further inspection, there were neat stitches across my abdomen. It took no time to piece together what had happened.

And then, the daily routine carried on as normal.

But I would not. I could not. I could not carry on like this any longer.

Enough was enough.

He murdered my child.

He took me. He took my flesh. He took my child.

Dakota sat on his bed, camera in hand. As with his usual evening ritual, he set aside the time to look at the photos of the day, eager to remember everything he did and saw. His eyes were glued to the display screen as he flicked through the images, savoring each one. Him and his brothers had gone to the zoo to celebrate the beginning of summer vacation- he’d been wanting to go for so long, and he’d finally gotten an impressive collection of photos to marvel at. He lingered at the pictures from elephant feeding- elephants were his favorite, by far. He smiled, admiring the photo.

He tried to think to the afternoon, and vaguely recalled the employee at the feeding telling him all about elephants, specifically about how they had the most impressive memories in the animal kingdom. This fascinated with Dakota, and only strengthened his love for the creatures. However, something new caught his eye- there was another person in the shot, aside from the elephant and the zookeeper. On the edge of the shot, a passerby had accidentally gotten in the scope of the photo. This happened a lot, and Dakota would sometimes take time to simply appreciated the variety of faces that showed up in the backgrounds of his shots. However, in this instance, she was the only extra person, and broke the composition of the photograph. He squinted his eyes, bringing the display screen closer to her face.

Dakota couldn’t explain it, but he felt a slight swelling in his chest as he tucked his knees against himself and curled up with his camera. The person intruding in the shot was a woman- she looked a bit older than him, but could easily be his age, too. He wasn’t sure. Staring at her, he took in each of her features. She had straight, russet-orange hair that cascaded to her shoulders, complimenting her fair skin and bringing out the pink undertones. Juxtaposing these warm tones were a set of deep green eyes, barely discernable in the photograph, as she was so far away. However, Dakota was able to zoom in closer on the camera to further observe her features. He wasn’t entirely sure why, but he couldn’t stop staring at her. She wore an olive green tank top with bold, white letters reading ‘Jefferson High School’. Furrowing his brow, Dakota considered this- Jefferson High wasn’t very far from him at all. In fact, had he not fallen just outside the county lines, he would have ended up attending there.

In the photo, the girl stood with arms crossed and a slight frown curling at her lips. Dakota took note of her irate demeanor, wondering what had been going on at the time of the photograph. He often considers the stories of those he caught on film, though his usual fascination deepened into something more. He felt a pang in his chest, and he wished he knew who she was. She almost looked familiar to him- but he couldn’t place why. Dakota marvelled at the photo for quite some time before his brother came in and interrupted him. For the time being, Dakota turned off his camera and plugged it in to charge.

The rest of his day was inconsequential, as always. The evening were always a blur, containing nothing but the routine-like rituals of his life. Before he knew it, he was in bed, and dozing off to sleep. Dakota didn’t always dream- his subconscious didn’t often have much to recall for a dream. However, on this night, he did indeed experience a dream.

Dakota could hear faint singing in the distance- a sweet melody that echoed through a hallway he stood in. He wasn’t entirely sure where he was, though assumed it to perhaps be a school of some kind, given the halls and lockers that surrounded him. Curiously, Dakota navigated towards the sound of the singing, until he found himself at a closed door. Without thinking, he reached for the doorknob, pushing his way into a classroom, of sorts. The building itself was quite bland and featureless, though he didn’t seem to mind. In the room, he found the source of the singing. It was the girl from the photograph- she sat in a chair, facing away from him. Dakota furrowed his brow- while the building was indeed formless, the woman was vivid and bright, each color distinct and vibrant. Her ginger brown hair swayed slightly as the woman suddenly turned her head, glancing at Dakota. Emerald green eyes watched him, and the singing stopped.

“Uh… erm… hello?” Dakota called out, stuffing his hands in his pockets awkwardly.

The girl said nothing, now fully turned toward him. She was stroking the chain of a locket she wore around her neck, and she seemed to appear rather apprehensive.

“Uh, ah, who are you?” Dakota asked earnestly. When she still did not answer, he took a step forward, pacing towards her. Her eyes widened, then narrowed into slits as she scowled, backing away from him.

“STOP.” she hissed at him, alarming Dakota. He stumbled back, then began to move as though he was reaching for something. She watched him suspiciously, and Dakota looked down to see he was without his camera.

“What- no… no, wait. Where is it?” she stammered timidly, now growing frantic as he acknowledged he was without his ever-important camera. “I have to have it- I never leave without it- this is so weird, where even am I?” he became further frazzled, until a realization struck him. “Wait, I’m dreaming, aren’t I? I must be…” he muttered, and the girl turned away from him once again. Before anything else could occur, it was over even sooner than it had began. With a start, Dakota bolted upright in his bed, breathing heavily. Glancing at the clock, he saw it was eight in the morning. Electing not to sleep in any longer, Dakota grabbed his camera and toddled downstairs, looking a bit distraught.

“Something up, bro?” one of his brothers inquired.

“It’s hard to sleep when the weather is so darn hot.” another complained.

“Oh, I’m fine. I just had a weird dream, is all.” Dakota murmured, reaching for a box of cereal.

“Man, I feel that. The other night I dreamt that I was on this weird reality TV show with a bunch of other teens and it was so wild.” yet another sibling chimed in.

Breakfast continued as normal, until the coughing of an engine could be heard outside. It was the distinct sound of the school bus.

“I thought school was out?” Dakota murmured.

“For all your smart kids, I guess. I’m going to summer school, though.” one of the middle siblings responded. In reality, he’d told Dakota this several times, but knew to act like it was the first time such a fact was brought up.

“Oh, really? Sorry to hear that.” Dakota mused, getting the feeling that he was informed of this beforehand.

“It’s alright, I guess. It’s just a pain, because we have to commute to the high school of the county next door for our classes- ours didn’t offer the class I needed, so I gotta take a bus all the way to Jefferson High School.” he sighed, heading towards the door. “In fact, I gotta jet now, or else I’ll be late!” he groaned, and then left.

Dakota considered this. “Jefferson High School? That sounds familiar.” he mumbled, though none of his siblings heard him. Discarding the subject, he turned on his camera, snapping a photo of his breakfast.

It had played countless times on the radio over the past few days, making her shifts near unbearable when the familiar tune came on. It was so annoying, how a simple song had wormed its way into her brain, festering and playing on loop after loop. She wished that Leanne would play another station- anything to give a hint of variety. Alas, just as she was shoving the tune out of her cerebellum, the opening notes chimed through the stereo. It wouldn’t be so bad, if it didn’t so desperately make her want to sing along. Her lips parted, but she quickly pursed her lips into a smile, refusing to sing.

She gracefully skirted around racks, doing her job as per usual; organizing clothes, working on new designs, skillfully avoiding Daniel… the usual routine. By the end of her shift, she counted that it had played five times- the established average for a six hour shift. Adelia caught herself humming softly as she packed up her purse to leave. She sighed softly, slinging the purse over her shoulder. She had an hour and a half before she was expected at Jinta’s residence- she was invited over for dinner, something that had become a regular invitation. That being said, she only accepted every so often, as to not be an intruder.

As Adelia walked home, her thoughts wandered to the Kusakabe siblings. She had already picked up on the sheer fact that Izumi did not care for her in the slightest, to put it lightly. Mai appeared indifferent, yet not in a malevolent way. If anything… Mai seemed wary of her, yet welcoming of her presence, as if she was appreciative of Adelia’s effect on her brother, yet she was still trying to decipher the blonde. This was enough for Adelia, though she was prone to become extra careful in her facade if Mai probed too insistently.

They were a curious trio, and even though one third of the group loathed her, Adelia couldn’t help but enjoy their presence. At the same time, it made her a tad nervous in a way she rarely felt. It reminded her of when she first came home with Rodney- the feeling of being an outsider amongst a family. It was a detestable feeling, yet Adelia stifled any discomfort in her hopes that she would mesh well enough with the trio.

Soon, it was evening, and Adelia arrived at the Kusakabe residence, knocking lightly on the door. Mai was the one to answer, looking the petite woman up and down. As always, Adelia was wearing a lovely dress of her own design, looking nothing short of a model.

Mai gave a glance at Adelia before calling out over her shoulder to the other two occupants of the apartment. “The step-blonde is here!” she called out, and Adelia stifled a laugh. Although she would not readily admit it, Adelia thought the term was adorable, and witty as well. Mai caught a glimpse of this smile, taking note while allowing Adelia to step inside.

Adelia slipped off her shoes, as per usual, and meandered into the kitchen, humming softly without even thinking about it.

Jinta heard the quiet melody, and glanced up, smiling slightly. “Ah, good evening, Adelia. How was work?” he asked curiously, setting down his knife and putting his attention onto her.

“Oh, the same as ever.” she responded, ceasing her humming. “I cannot get a particular song out of my mind and it won’t stop playing on the radio at work, but aside from that minor inconvenience, all is well.” she reported.

“Is that so?” Jinta mused, furrowing his brow as if he were trying to recall something. “If my memory serves correctly, I’ve never heard you sing before.” he determined, though meant nothing by the statement. He was merely stating a fact.

“I suppose that’s true. It’s not really a necessity, though.” Adelia countered.

“Naturally. I do wonder, though…” he began, then shook his head. He didn’t want to open up that can of worms, for fear that the question would be turned on him.

“Wonder? What about?” Adelia inquired, curious. Mai walked by the kitchen, glancing at the two of them.

“Probably wondering if you can sing- didn’t want to ask, though, ‘cause you’d ask him if he can sing. And he can’t. At all.” Mai translated the situation, causing Jinta to shoot her an irate glance. Mai simply smirked in response, and Adelia’s interest was further piqued.

“Is that so? Surely you can’t be that bad.” Adelia persisted.

“Do you remember the mandrakes from the first Harry Potter movie? Imagine those, but…. worse. Far worse. Then you have an idea of almost how bad he is.” Mai explained, snickering. The cultural reference was lost on Adelia, but she did get the gist of Mai’s intent.

“That bad, hm? Well now I’m even more curious, you know.” Adelia smiled, giving a teasing glance at Jinta.

“Oh, come off it. And what about you, hm? Do YOU sing?” he retorted, trying to push the issue away from himself.

“I wouldn’t say I sing, necessarily. I also wouldn’t say I’m bad at singing if I were the type to sing.” she declared, crossing her arms.

“That so, French Fry? If you’re not bad, how come you don’t?” Mai asked. Jinta wondered why Mai bothered to inquire, not understanding that she was trying to figure out the blonde. Unbeknownst to him, Mai was careful to see who was potentially getting so involved with her brother. Although not possessive like Izumi, she did care to see that her brother was being treated well, even if she would never admit such a thing. Furthermore, she couldn’t help but find Adelia rather attractive, but still couldn’t get a decent read on her.

“French Fry? Goodness, the nicknames just don’t cease, do they?” she mused, a calculated laugh escaping her lips. As she spoke, Jinta held his breath; it had begun to become blatantly clear when she was wearing her facade. After seeing her so vulnerable and honest, it was almost uncomfortable to watch Adelia in a defensive poise. “I simply don’t sing because I have no reason to. I suppose I am prone to on rare occasion, but it’s just not an everyday occurrence.” Adelia responded cryptically.

“That makes no sense, even when I don’t take into account how you talk like a dictionary.” Mai deadpanned, rolling her eyes.

“Oh? Allow me to try and explain. Music is… hm, how do I phrase this? Pardon my loss for words… it’s simply that I believe music is too precious and meaningful to waste with nonchalant singing and trivial tunes. Music is a language of emotion, so to speak.” Adelia tried to explain, and although Mai had a hard time following such an explanation, she began to understand the point Adelia was getting at.

“That so? Huh.” Mai mumbled, for once refraining from tacking on a snide remark. Instead, she opted to reflect on what she was just told. In the split-second of silence, Izumi emerged from the hallway, where she had been eavesdropping.

“Oh, you’re here.” Izumi noted flatly, saying nothing else as she paced towards Jinta to watch him cook. Adelia gave a polite nod, opting to stay out of Izumi’s way. That tended to be the best course of action. Somehow, Jinta was still quite unaware of the animosity, though Mai was fully observant and in many ways tried to ease the tension.

“So, is dinner ever gonna be ready, bro?” Mai asked, sitting down at the table.

“Patient as ever, I see.” Jinta rolled his eyes, and Adelia giggled softly. Izumi looked over her shoulder, shooting a glare at her. Adelia stayed calm, standing her ground and maintaining a tall posture. She wouldn’t let Izumi get to her- she didn’t know why Izumi found such fault with her, but she would not let it interfere regardless. “Though to answer your rudely phrased question, it’s almost ready.” Jinta added, focusing back on the dinner preparations.

“Would you like me to set the table?” Adelia offered politely, pacing towards the kitchen.

“I’m already on it.” Izumi objected, hastily grabbing a stack of placemats no sooner than Adelia had opened her mouth to speak.

“I see- my apologies.” Adelia gave an apologetic curtsy, careful as ever to stay pleasant and lukewarm. She refused to start anything, even if Izumi appeared to try at every turn to irritate her.

Soon enough, Jinta was dishing up the meal. Adelia then noted the scent in the air, and confirmed her realization as she eyed one of the plates- beef bourguignon. She couldn’t help but smile, and skirted her way behind Jinta to help him dish up the plates.

“It smells absolutely wonderful.” Adelia noted.

“I would hope so- it is your favorite, after all.” Jinta said knowingly, a coy grin making its way across his lips as he revealed the intentional nature of the night’s menu. Upon hearing this, Izumi scowled, though only Mai saw.

“You didn’t have to, you know.” she murmured, leaning in and planting a quick kiss on his cheek before carrying two plates to the table. Jinta’s face quickly grew hot, the tips of his ears tinted a light red.

“Of course I know that. I wanted to.” he protested, careful not to stutter.

“Then I greatly appreciate it.” Adelia expressed her gratitude, sitting next to him at the table. Izumi looked at her plate, looking at Jinta.

“Why are there so many onions? I hate onions.” she muttered disdainfully.

“I tried not to put any on your plate, but I couldn’t pick out all of them. You should eat them- they’re good for you.” Jinta advised his little sister in a fatherly tone.

“I’ll take any onions you pick out- I love them, actually.” Adelia insisted, smiling sweetly at Izumi.

“No. I’ll just eat them, I guess.” Izumi denied any kind gesture of Adelia’s in a heartbeat, though in reality she would likely try to hide her onions in her napkin so she neither had to eat them nor take up Adelia’s offer. She tried to calculate how she could be discreet, as Jinta would surely scold her for wasting food. “There’s just so many.” she added. Jinta said nothing, though Adelia quickly realized why that was- she’d said it herself, and she’d told him before how she liked extra onions.

For some time, the four of the ate in silence, with the quiet tapping of silverware filling the air. Izumi stared daggers at Adelia, while Mai tried to gauge the entire situation, not caring for the escalating tension. Jinta glanced at his lover as if he were about to say something, though paused when he caught sight of a stray hair on her shoulder. It bothered him, and he began to reach to brush it away. However, he paused, instead electing to ask her.

“Adelia, do you mind if I- there’s a hair on your shoulder. I mean, you could get it, I just figured I would ask…” Jinta murmured, trying to make a habit out of such a gesture. Hearing this, Izumi perceived the situation incorrectly, and her lips curled into a snarl.

“You make him ask permission to touch you?” Izumi accused her, unamused. Adelia’s eyes widened, and she quickly shook her head.

“Oh, no, I don’t- Jinta just so happens to be a gentleman. Surely you know that.” Adelia protested as she plucked the stray hair away. She spoke in a defensive manner, not wanting to even come close to alluding to the reason he made it a point to ask. However, her words instead came off in such a way that ignited Izumi. Meanwhile, Mai tried to comprehend what was going on. A light went off in her mind, and Mai calculated a hypothesis. If she was right, she needed to shut Izumi up immediately.

“I’d think I’d know my own brother a bit better than some girl he’s only known for a few months.” Izumi retorted. “And while he is polite, it’s a bit much to ask someone if the can brush off a hair.” she shot back icily. Adelia felt herself being backed into a corner so to speak, with all eyes on her. Jinta didn’t know what to say; he didn’t understand why Izumi was so focused on this detail.

“It’s just a habit he’s developed, I suppose.” Adelia said firmly, her heart rate increasing.

“Yeah, but why? Did you make him start doing that? That’s so weird.” Izumi gave a dry laugh that felt like a lashing against Adelia.

“It’s not that weird. Maybe our bro is just learning to be less of an ass for once.” Mai hopped into the conversation, trying to deflect the focus off of Adelia. Izumi gave a double-take at Mai as she defended Adelia, and felt slighted that her own sister would be taking a side at all, much less one that wasn’t her own.

“Are you serious, Mai? It’s so weird- who thinks they’re so much better that they have to be asked to be touched? Isn’t that, like, really vain?” Izumi became more agitated, trying to drive her point home. Adelia’s chest tightened- it was weird, wasn’t it? It was weird that she was so intimidated by any form of touch, and that her boyfriend felt the need to ask. It was weird, wasn’t it? Adelia’s face grew paler than ever, and she simply nodded.

“Yes, when you phrase it like that, it is a bit odd. Jinta, really, there’s no need.” Adelia said quietly, sitting up straight. Her voice lacked confidence, but was still firm and collected as ever. She felt herself hollowing, hiding behind the armored walls of her facade. Mai fell silent, simply watching these events transpire.

“It’s not weird. What if I just feel like asking? Some people just have different circumstances-” Jinta began, before Adelia quickly stood to her feet, causing him to fall silent.

“It’s not a matter of different circumstances. It’s just- excuse me, please.” Adelia suddenly turned, walking out of the room and down the hallway. Jinta then realized what he’d said, alluding that anything would make Adelia different in a suspicious way. He instantly felt guilty, and silently berated himself for such a slip of the tongue.

Izumi ignored such a concept, simply teeming over with agitation while Mai pieced together the situation, finding it to support her theory. She was almost certain she was right, at least to some extent. And when it dawned on her what Adelia’s circumstances could potentially be, she rose to her feet as well, pacing towards the hallway. She glanced over her shoulder at Jinta and Izumi.

“I’m going to go do damage control, since you clods have foot-in-mouth syndrome.” Mai rolled her eyes, then focused on her sister, a suddenly serious glint in her eye. “Izumi. You should apologize. I mean it.” she said firmly before disappearing into the hall.

Adelia had found herself in the bathroom, the door ajar since she didn’t bother to remember to close it. Instead, she leaned against the counter, taking deep breaths. She felt so cornered, as if the walls were inching closer and closer to her. They were going to suffocate her, they were going to crush her. even brushing her wrist against the counter caused her to jump back.

Mai caught sight of this sudden motion, and turned on the bathroom lights. Adelia whirled around, staring at Mai.

“Oh, hello. I was just taking a moment to myself, if that’s alright.” Adelia said, a glassy look in her eyes. She was going to be calm, as always. She had to be.

“You said you’ve got a song stuck in your head, right?” Mai muttered, ignoring the elephant in the room. It wasn’t like Adelia wanted it addressed, and Mai didn’t know how to talk about such serious matters, anyways.

“Pardon?” Adelia gave a curious look to her.

“Earlier, you were saying how this one song keeps playing at work. What song? I’m curious.”

“Oh? I don’t know the artist, admittedly, but the title… I believe the title is “I Take Flight”.” Adelia recounted, now distracted by the thought of that catchy tune. Her breathing slowed notably as she thought of the song.

“Let me hear it, it doesn’t sound familiar.” Mai demanded, leaning against the doorframe with crossed arms.

“You want to hear it?” Adelia repeated.

“Unless you really can’t sing. In which case, spare me. But something tells me you’re not half bad, and I want to know this song that’s bugging you. Maybe I can play it while you’re sleeping and get it even more lodged in your head, if you get on my nerves.” Mai teased. Adelia saw what she was getting at, and smiled softly, letting her guard down, even if just a bit.

“Alright, alright. Though talent is objective, so if you think I sound awful, you could take the high road and simply say it was lovely.” Adelia retorted, teasing as well.

“Come on, I’m not that nice, French Fry.” Mai huffed. “Now out with it.”

Adelia cleared her throat, recalling the tune. She then began to sing it for Mai, her lyrics soprano tone filling the air.

“I can’t be held too tightly,

My spirit quivers like a kite,

But when you love me without strings,

I take flight.

I want to burn more brightly

Than all the shooting stars at night,

And when you wish the best for me,

I take flight.”

Mai was admittedly impressed- she really did have a lovely singing voice. Mai closed her eyes to listen carefully, absorbing the gentle melody. It was a slow song, not like the upbeat and catchy tune she was expecting. However, it did have a pervasive quality to it, in an odd way.

“So that’s the song that’s bothering you?” was all Mai responded with at first.

“Bother is one way to put it, but I suppose you’re right.”

“People tend to cling to songs they identify with.” Mai said in a matter-of-fact tone. “That song isn’t catchy, but it’s caught you. Or something.” she shrugged.

“Songs we identify with?” Adelia murmured, considering the lyrics. Her cheeks tinted a slight pink. “Well, I suppose so. I didn’t really think about it that way.”

Mai smirked slightly. “Well, know you have.” she added. “Now, I’m gonna head back out before my food gets cold, or Izumi sneaks bites off of my plate. You do you, I guess, but I don’t see why you’d want to awkwardly stand in a bathroom for much longer.”

Before Adelia could respond, Mai walked back into the dining room, sitting back down. Jinta looked to her expectantly, as if he was hoping to get some form of an explanation.

“She wasn’t lying- she can sing.” Mai informed her brother.

“What are you talking about? Is that what you two were doing back there?” Jinta asked, terribly confused.

“I told you I’d do damage control.” Mai responded vaguely. “Can’t let the step-blonde get away just because you two have no tact half the time.”

Jinta processed this, then gave a teasing smirk. “Oh? So now you like her?”

“I didn’t say I did.” Mai huffed indignantly.

“Great, now I have to worry about my sister stealing my girlfriend.” Jinta joked in amusement.

“Even though I totally could, that’s nothing you should even consider a possibility.” Mai assured him with an eyeroll for good measure.

Meanwhile, Izumi picked quietly at her food, watching as the stars and the sun orbited the earth.

Adelia soon rejoined the group, and although Izumi was too cold to apologize as she ought, she still found herself lulled into a brooding silence for the remainder of the meal.

Jinta looked at the clock- he still had a little less than an hour before Izumi would arrive home. Mai was still asleep, and would likely be brought to a stir when Izumi did return. For the time being, he stirred the contents of a pot on the stove. He was following a recipe a friend had given him for a Colombian stew: cuchuco, as it was called. He had wanted to try making it for himself after tasting the rustic and homely dish at the aforementioned friend’s house.

Jinta wafted the steam coming out of the pot, wrinkling his nose slightly. It didn’t smell quite right- not like how it did when he’d had it before. He figured that he wouldn’t be able to recreate the dish perfectly, but at the same time, something smelled peculiar about the stew. It didn’t smell particularly appetizing in the slightest. Disheartened by this, he paced towards the cupboard to retrieve spices in order to remedy the problem.

As he reached up for a bottle of cumin powder, he noticed the newspaper on the kitchen counter. He hadn’t yet read the day’s details, and typically like to at least browse the articles to see if anything of note happened. If anything, it helped him to appear more learned, which was a benefit in his eyes.

Setting the cumin on the counter, he took a moment to leaf through the paper, curious as to if any headlines would catch his eyes. While this turned out to be a fruitless pursuit, there was an ad that not only gave him pause, but caused his eyes to widen, if only slightly.

Near the back of the newspaper was a half-page advertisement for a boutique; the name looked familiar, and Jinta immediately realized why. It was the boutique Adelia designed for, and even worked at part-time. The establishment was announcing their summer collection, and in the center of the advertisement was a familiar dress, one of Adelia’s own design. The white dress that changed color in sunlight- he’d seen the article at its debut, and remembered the novelty and shock of the unveiling as if it were merely days before.

A slight smile made its way across his face as he admired the simple ad; Adelia was quickly gaining recognition for her work, despite being a fresh face in the fashion world. She possessed a style all her own yet accessible to many, aiding to her popularity. She was still young and novel, always working to create something unlike any other. But of course, Jinta knew all this- it was part of why he admired her, and why he in turn had fallen in love with her.

Turning away from the paper, he stirred the stew that was still simmering, tossing a pinch of cumin in without a second thought. However, his mind dwelled on the advertisement and on Adelia. They’d been dating for just over two months, and still she seemed to amaze and surprise him. She had the most curious effect on him, and it was almost bothersome if it weren’t so wonderful to him. A graceful, elegant enigma- that’s what she was. At every turn a surprise, yet never contradictory. So full of vigor and passion, she worked without ceasing, and without compromise to who she believed herself to be. And yet… she didn’t do such things for anyone else. She did not work hard for the benefit of another, she did not walk with such confidence and poise in order to please the crowd or win their hearts. She was authentically fabricated, an oxymoron in and of itself. It made no sense, and almost brought an aching to Jinta’s head as he tried to consider this concept. He let out a soft sigh, reaching for a tasting spoon. Dipping the utensil into the pot, he brought it to his lips, waiting a moment for the contents to cool. Then, he took a bite of the simmering cuchuco. Immediately, he grimaced, hardly able to swallow the bite. He glanced at the messily scrawled out recipe, checking it twice to see if he’d missed a crucial step. Why did it taste so…… so……

He glanced at the newspaper, then to the pot on the stove. Reaching for the bottle of cumin, a horrid thought crossed his mind.

She was stunning; calculated for no benefit but her own, skilled in so many ways that one would think she could think nothing was impossible to her, filled to the brim with a passion that could not be extinguished. She was so very vibrant. And him?

He was bland.

Jinta tried not to bother with such thoughts, but they always lingered.

‘I’m not confident at all. I just act like it because I have to. For Mai and Izumi. But I’m nothing special. So I can cook? You couldn’t tell by the way things are going right now. Did he even write down this damn recipe right? Why is this so hard? What am I doing wrong? This is what I get for being someone I’m not. I say I’m the sun, but I’m so dull. They can all see it, can’t they? If I act even more arrogant, maybe that will cover it up. Cover up that I’m not radiant, I’m not extravagant, I’m not stunning. I’m dull. I’m plain. I’m bland.’

The insults clouded his mind; he felt light headed, and reached to catch himself on the counter. All he could smell was the stew on the stove. It smelled putrid to him; whether it was actually rank was highly doubtful, but to him, it was vile. Jinta looked to the newspaper, almost wincing at he saw he left it open to the advertisement.

‘She just started her career and she’s made leaps and bounds. I’m still just a no name chef at a small establishment. Am I not talented enough to go the distance? I am mediocre. Novice. I’m not the sun. I’m not even a star. Not even a speck in the cosmos- I can’t be all that. I just can’t. I’m trying so hard, but I’m just… I’m just Jinta. Plain Jinta. I’m doing my best, is that not enough?’

Jinta turned to the stove, trying to calculate if he could salvage the cuchuco. He stumbled to the fridge, fishing out various vegetables. Splaying them across a cutting board, he set to dicing them quickly, figuring that it would serve as a distraction, and bring both color and texture to the dish. It wasn’t in the recipe, but it seemed that he could not get by with trying to imitate something foreign to him.

Putting the diced vegetables in a separate dish, he returned to the stew. It had thickened into a paste-like texture in the time it had cooked; Jinta scowled, the frustration welling up inside of him.

“That rain cloud probably left out an ingredient- could he have been any less vague with these instructions?” Jinta muttered, quickly projecting the blame onto someone else. As he turned away from the stove, his elbow brushed the pot, causing him to yelp in pain. The heat seared his elbow, and he moved so rapidly that it knocked the pot off of the burner entirely. Jumping back, Jinta watched as the would-be stew splattered against the floor.

“Dammit! What a waste- I’ve gone and-” Jinta stammered, feeling his breathing quicken. His thoughts grew louder, like demons screeching into his ear.

‘You wasteful idiot, look what you’ve done. Granted, it wouldn’t have tasted any good. It was bland, just like you. It was awful. Why did you even try that? That was stupid. You wasted the money for those ingredients, you’ve wasted so much food. You can’t afford to be so wasteful, you know. What an idiot. What a moron. You’re so clumsy, how are you a chef? You boast to be the sun, but you’re burned right out, aren’t you? Nice going, you fucking idiot.’

While the voices screamed relentlessly, he stared blankly at the mess on the floor. He didn’t even hear Mai emerge from her room, made curious by the sudden clatter she had heard. Poking her head around the corner, she saw Jinta standing still as a statue, and was rather confused. She puttered into the kitchen, catching sight of the mess. In a way, she understood, even if she only had figured out the surface of his problems.

“Nice one.” Mai mumbled, toning down her usual sarcasm. “The hell is that? Are you trying to make weird foreign dishes again? You know Izumi is a picky eater.” Mai crossed her arms, figuring that would be enough to snap Jinta back into reality. However, the opposite happened. He was drowning in his thoughts, and didn’t even hear Mai speaking.

“Wow, rude. It’s almost worse than when you’re intentionally an ass, you know?” she spoke louder this time. However, instead of responding, tears welled up in Jinta’s eyes. This shocked Mai- she had scarcely ever seen him cry. In fact, Mai wasn’t sure if she had ever seen Jinta show such emotion.

“Come on bro, it’s just a spill. Here, uh, you go take a nap or something. You worked late last night, and you probably binge watched another season of Chopped, didn’t you? Fuck, just go take a nap, you dork. I’ll clean this up.” Mai grumbled, elbowing Jinta. This brought him back, and he quickly wiped his eyes, clearing his throat.

“What? Oh, yeah. Whatever. I was thinking about something else. I’m going to… go. I’ll have dinner ready at the usual time. I just need a few minutes.” he insisted quickly, turning away so Mai would no longer see his expression.

“Do whatever, bro. Damn, you’d think I was the older sibling, wouldn’t you?” Mai rolled her eyes, though in reality she was simply trying to search for something to say that wouldn’t worsen whatever was happening. She didn’t understand it, but she did understand that something was wrong with her brother, and for him to be so perturbed that it showed…. in a way, it frightened her.

Jinta quickly left the kitchen without another word, falling onto his bed and staring at the ceiling. Just a plain, white ceiling. Out the window, the sun was setting. Jinta rolled his eyes back, watching the light sink into the horizon.

“Sunrise...sunset….” he hummed, and felt a stirring within himself, as if there was something he wanted to say. He wasn’t particularly poetic, not like others he knew who were much more eloquent. He furrowed his brow, trying to channel what Adelia would say about something like this.

“The sun rises and the sun sets… but it always shines. Just in different places...different ways….” he ran his fingers through his hair. “Where do I… how do I shine best?”

Adelia did not want to get out of bed- it was one of those mornings. She hated these sorts of days; they hardly constituted as days at all, but rather extensions of a horrid night preceding. Rolling onto her side, she stared at the empty space in the bed next to her. It seemed as though Jinta had already woken up- naturally, the sun always rose first.

She willed herself to sit up, but it didn’t happen. She remained glued in bed, flopping onto her back once again. Her gem, a smooth moonstone, pressed into the mattress beneath her. Why did she even bother sleeping? Had she really grown that used to life on Earth, that Jinta and herself would grow into this pattern? As gems they didn’t need sleep by any stretch of the imagination, but it had become such a custom to them that they did so without even thinking. It was all a part of the human facade, after all.

It had been so long since they’d begun this charade- having no place in the home world, they lived their days as if they were human. Sleeping, eating, even maintaining a job. It was easier that way; at least, to them it seemed easier than any other option they would have. Often times they forgot their former identities, as if they were distant recollections of a past life.

How the two of them met… it was actually a matter of chance, but that was an explanation for another day. In the moment, Adelia was no longer Moonstone. Just a tired young woman who could not bring herself to ride out of bed.

Moment’s later, Jinta walked in, a spatula in hand. Seeing she was awake, he smiled. “Rise and shine- I thought you were going to sleep the entire day away at that rate.” he teased her, though paused when she didn’t smile back. He furrowed his brow, wondering if it was one of those days. He didn’t understand it in the slightest, but sometimes it was all Adelia could do to even wake up in the morning.

“Something wrong?” he asked tentatively, crossing his arms. Adelia avoided eye contact, simply nodding.

“I’ll be up in a bit.” she murmured, trying to muster up the energy.

“Do you need anything?” Jinta pressed, knowing her answer already.

“No, no. Just give me a few minutes.” she muttered, and Jinta nodded solemnly, turning and pacing back into the kitchen.

Adelia had experienced the war much differently than Jinta had- having been a low-ranking commander for the Diamond Authority, he hardly saw battle, mostly dictating tasks from the home planet. Adelia, on the other hand, had been a prisoner of war, forced to take a side in a conflict she wanted no part of.

When Adelia did not rise even after another fifteen minutes, Jinta meandered back into the bedroom, finding her sitting on the edge with her legs dangling over. He didn’t know how to console her- he often said the wrong thing, if anything. However, he decided to at least try, offering whatever encouragement he could.

“Still having trouble? Take your time- we can do the errands later.” he said, hoping he didn’t say anything offensive.

Adelia stared at the carpet before laying back down. “I don’t think I’ll be going out today, my apologies.” she muttered, facing away from him.

“It’s that bad?” he couldn’t help but ask. Jinta then noticed that Adelia had begun to tremble slightly. With her back facing him, he could see her smooth gem, though with dark jagged marks stemming out from all sides of the gem and into her flesh. They were always there, no matter how many times she’d regenerated.

“You don’t…. Sunstone, you don’t understand.” she sighed, using his original name, to his surprise.

Jinta paused, pursing his lips. “You’re right, I don’t understand. I don’t get it at all, really. I… well, I don’t wish I feel what you do by any means, but I wish I could at least… well, sympathize.” he tried to reach for the right words.

Adelia was silent for some time. Jinta wondered if he should just leave, but right when he began to turn, she spoke.

“Do you really want to see what I see? I don’t think you do.” she murmured quietly.

“I think it would help me to understand you better.” he responded.

Adelia then pushed herself back into a seated position, facing Jinta.

“Fuse with me.” she directed him, staring at him with tired eyes. “At the very least, then we can go out- you’ll have to handle most of the physical activity, though.”

Jinta nodded, and hesitantly pulled Adelia to her feet, placing a hand on the small of her back so she would not fall. The two then danced slowly, with Jinta paying extra mind as to supporting Adelia so she would not fall. The two closed their eyes, and inhaling in unison, they merged into a single entity, Orthoclase. They didn’t stand out terribly this way, as they were still only about as tall as the average man, which was small for a fusion, but enabled the two to go about their day as one without raising too many heads. The only feature that made things difficult was the third eye, though they reached up and brushed their bangs over this.

Immediately, Jinta felt almost nauseous, so it seemed. It was like a sinking in the pit of their stomach, as if their bones were filled with lead. He didn’t think the ailment was anything physical, yet even their muscles seemed sore.

Jinta focused, trying to hone in on Adelia’s perspective. As much as it worsened his condition to tap into her dreary self, this was the point, and he persisted. Becoming aware of her vision, the world seemed almost overcast as he looked around the room. Trying to endure this misery, Jinta took prominent control of the body, adjusting their clothing before collecting their things.

The goal was to go to the grocery store, something they typically did together anyways, but usually as separate entities. However, today was a day for trying new things, so it seemed, and Jinta guided them outside, heading down the street.

At the sight of another pedestrian, Jinta felt their chest tighten, and they seemed to hold their breath, as if waiting to see what the pedestrian would do. Even after the person passed by them, they had a hard time calming down. This process repeated as each new being came into view, as if everyone and everything was a potential threat with the ability to harm. This fear and anxiousness overwhelmed Jinta, and they were jarred to think that this was how Adelia viewed the world- at least on days such as this.

Adelia’s presence seemed very faint, as if she wasn’t really there, but her essence was. That pained and fearful essence that consumed their body like a raincloud. Jinta could not even hear her- it seemed she was not even trying to communicate, and was simply a corpse occupying the body. This concerned him, to feel such negativity and sorrow. He didn’t like it one bit, and although they weren’t even at the store, he always wanted to go home. Was this how she felt so often? Some days worse than others, but always plodding along with lead instead of marrow?

Arriving at the grocery store, Jinta began to feel as though their back was hurting.

‘I want to go home. I can’t do this.’ Jinta could hear her thoughts as clear as day.

‘Okay. We’ll go.’

He didn’t even hesitate to turn on their heels, guiding them right back from where they had come.

‘Walk faster.’ Adelia pressed him, and she tried to contribute, but lacked the energy.

‘I’m trying.’ he thought, and truly he was. It seemed almost difficult to move though. He figured they may as well be wading through molasses- by the time they returned to the apartment, he felt as though they’d run a marathon. Closing the door behind them, they collapsed onto the couch, panting slightly from exhaustion.

Jinta could still feel their back throbbing, and voices began to chime in their head that did not belong to Adelia.

‘If you squirm one more time we’ll reduce your gem to shards.’ ‘You’re just a sacrifice that has to be made.’ ‘If you just shut up and stop squirming it’ll be over and you’ll be dead before you even realize.’

They were memories- haunting recollections that rattled around Adelia’s brain, now permeating into Jinta’s consciousness. The malevolent voices and throbbing pains were more than Jinta could bear, and they began to sweat in discomfort.

As they writhed, Jinta could feel the two of them separate, and sure enough, he was left lying underneath Adelia as she tensed in discomfort.

“Moonstone….” he murmured, trying to sit up, but he was exhausted from the excursion.

“Do you understand?” she whimpered softly, laying her head against his chest.

Sunstone paused, nodding slightly.