Does it matter much
to me how?
I don't mind
please, don't leave
your shadow
on the floor
I'll be alright
Does it matter much
to me why?
I don't mind
it's for me
a little
inconvenient
but I'll be alright
Does it matter much
to me how?
I don't mind
it don't make
no difference
I don't mind
You see
You're only
rubbing salt
on my open
wounds
it'll only take
awhile
to be alright
I don't mind

~ cynthia alexander "I don't Mind"

He stares at it, scowling as if it is a malevolent god. It stares right back, surface shining, its frame already a dusty wood with some scratches over the years. He reaches out a hand, touches the surface, touching the skin that slides coolly beneath his fingers.

Hate. Such hatred builds within him.

He grabs the mirror, raises it above his head, and slams it to the ground with as much force as he can muster.

And he smiles.

*

Maybe now, I can be free.

Maybe.

*

He spots him during lunchtime but he quickly averts his eyes. Inside him, a little voice tells him it's gone far enough, it should be time they reconcile. But stubborness keeps him away. He feels like he is going to be stuck that way forever, always watching from afar, wondering exactly WHAT happened.

It is only when someone jostles him and he almost spills his tray that he realizes he has been staring. Blushing, he moves with the crowd, trying to keep away, realizing he is desperately failing.

I need to talk to him, he thinks as he sits at an empty table. I need to. It should be soon, I don't want to lose my nerve.

Instinctively, he raises his head again to watch. Maybe a sign to tell him...something. He doesn't know. But he needs SOMETHING to be there.

But, as usual, he has no luck. The figure has already disappeared from the cafeteria. Like a ghost. Like a thought. So fleeting. Unable to catch. He blinks furiously and looks down at his lunch.

I should start bringing bento, he thinks suddenly. I should start eating inside the classroom. I should avoid empty tables.

Because empty tables only reminds him of what he has lost.

*

He always stops at his locker. The name is always there, written in quick kanji-hiragana: "JINPACHI --". He always wonders if the locker is still the same, still the pit of already half-strewn books thrown to one corner or the other. He wonders if it has changed.

He finds this funny. In a year, everything has changed.

Everything but the locker.

He clenches his fists, happy to feel the pain. He looks around. People are starting to go back to their classrooms. Lunchtime will be over soon. He begins to walk again. He goes to the mens' CR. Carefully avoids mirrors. He does not want another accident. Not in school. He should have better control anyway.

*

Class is always uneventful, he thinks. Something boring. Sometimes, they perk him up for a while, but most of the times, he loses interest quickly. Fleeting memories hover in his mind, reminding him of his past. A past he feels like he never lived.

Fleeting...

Suddenly, his memories take him to something more present. Lunchtime. A figure that passes and goes.

Pale--

He touches his mouth unconsciously, wondering at the soft pressure of lips on his. He feels again the softness, tastes the mixed emotions filled in that one moment, sees the silver tears disappearing at the turn of the head. Remembers the coldness and hotness that overcomes his body in one electrifying second.

Then, he is thrown back to that memory of a time long ago. He sees a smile, a face, a voice. Arms wrap teasingly around his shoulders, comforting. He hears a tearful sob, and he wonders if he still has the strength to raise his arm and comfort her. Crying. Always crying.

He wonders if Enju has ever stopped crying.

He wonders if Issei has ever smiled.

And it is only then he realizes that his classmates are pouring out of the door. Class is over. The day is over. It is time to go home.

*

He locks himself in the cubicle, silently laughing. He has, for sixteen years, been going inside the MENS' CR, when all he time, he'd been a WOMAN.

He looks down at his hand. Bandages, wrapped so tightly that it looks as if they are part of his fingers. "Are you still alive?" he whispers brokenly. "I wish you were dead. I wish you stayed dead."

These hands have sinned. His soul has always been out of control, always dreaming and yearning. His friendship paid the price. He should have learned by now that with control, one gains the world. Not the whole world. But it's a better world than the one he has now.

He had been selfish. He wished for the world.

...no.

He wished for something that encompasses friendship.

And where was he now?

*

"Are you still there?" Jinpanchi asks softly. He leans on the sink, crossing his arms. "Hey, you okay?"

There is no answer.

"I don't know if you are." He looks down at his sneakers, blinking furiously, wishing this isn't happening. But it is. It has to or--

--he couldn't imagine a life without Issei.

The men's CR is already empty; other students have already gone home. Jinpanchi has watched Issei go as if mechanically to the toilet and lock himself to the cubicle. He waited for a few minutes before finally giving up ang entering himself. Issei never went out. He wonders what he is doing.

"Issei..."

"What?" comes a muffled voice from the cubicle.

Jinpanchi falters. Now he's here, he does not know what to say. "Can't you...talk to me?"

"Why?" The voice is curious and controlled. There is a snap and the cubicle door opens. Issei steps out and breezes past him to turn on the faucet.

Jinpanchi looks up briefly but quickly turns away. There is a sound of running water which is turned off immediately. He turns back. "Issei, have you seen Alice lately?" he asks.

"'Course," Issei replies easily. He slips his hands into his pockets and cocks his head. "She's in the classroom beside mine, Jinpanchi. I see her everyday."

"I see you, too," Jinpanchi blurts out. He blushes and shrugs. "You're always alone."

Issei, too, shrugs. "I like being alone," he says quietly. For a moment, he lets his control slip as he gazes at his friend. "It's better." He raises a hand in a wave and turns to go but Jinpanchi grabs his wrist so suddenly that he almost slides on the tiles.

"What is this?!" he demands, fingers tight on the skin. "What the hell is this?"

Issei curses himself and clenched the held hand. It hurt. He thinks it might bleed again that night. "I broke my mirror. It was an accident. Don't get so uptight."

Instead of answering, Jinpanchi lunges again and snatches his other arm, hand enclosing around the other wrist. The palm, too, is covered with bandages. Jinpanchi's face is red with fury. "Accident?! ACCIDENT?!"

"YES!" Issei shouts, snatching back his wrists and rubbing them lightly. "An accident! Do you think I would commit suicide because of you?!" Jinpanchi steps back, eyes wide. Issei smiles triumphantly before letting it go. He wanted to hurt Jinpanchi, but he knows it will get him nowhere. So he heaves a breath and masters his control again. "It's nothing. An accident." He turns again to go.

Jinpanchi stares down at the floor. "Why won't you talk to me?" he whispers brokenly to his feet.

Issei stops at the act of opening the door, but he continues to leave, letting the door close behind him with only a slight click.

*

The wall is empty now. There is no more mirror. His parents have offered to buy him another one, a simpler one, but he refused. He does not want another mirror. He knows he will only end up smashing it again. On the floor. On the bed. On the window.

*

Once upon a time, he had been beautiful. Once upon a time, she was beautiful.

Once upon a time, he had not been Issei. He had been Enju, a simple, quiet girl who knew mathematics and higher Calculus. He solved mind-boggling questions without writing them down. He had been a hard and practical woman. Or Enju was.

Now, Enju is no more. There is only Issei. Enju living in Issei, Enju who wished for something more...just as Issei does now.

Only...Enju was more prone to breakdown.

Not now. Enju might be in Issei, but Issei will NEVER break down. He has learned control. He has learned to master it. And seeing Jinpanchi will NEVER trigger such actions again. Kissing Jinpanchi didn't result to anything nice.

And what if he told Jinpanchi of Enju's feelings? HIS feelings?

What will happen then?

*

Mirrors never hold an answer.

That is one of the reason he got rid of it.

*

He watches from the lobby as the other boy sits on the school steps waiting for...what? He pretends he is looking at the bulletin board, all the while sneaking glances at Issei.

The other students pour out and, once, he sees Alice, but he does not let himself be distracted. When, finally, people are less, he straightens and walks towards the school steps.

Issei hears the sneakers squeaking against the floor. He does not look behind him. He feels Jinpanchi. He knows Jinpanchi. He has always known.

Jinpanchi clears his throat. He bites his lip. "Issei--"

Issei makes no motion.

"...can't we be friends again?" He frowns, then rushes on: "I'm not really mad, not anymore. I don't...I don't quite understand how I feel but...you're my friend. And I know how you feel...after all, I feel it for Alice. But...I hate it when you ignore me. I...we've been through a lot together." He stops, wavers, then becomes braver. "I miss you."

Issei makes no sound; makes no indication he heard.

When another few minutes was made with no noise, Jinpanchi's shoulders sag. He bites his lip again. "I'm sorry," he says quietly, turning to his heels.

"I broke the mirror--"

Jinpanchi stops but does not turn. Issei frowns, watching the empty school ground. Loss of control. Is he no better than Enju?

"--because I hate seeing my face." No, there is still control. He wants to tell Jinpanchi, but he will never shed a tear, never show him how he feels. "I don't like seeing my face anymore."

"Why not?"

"Because," Issei whispers, "it is the biggest lie of all."

Silence. Then there is, again, footsteps. Jinpanchi stands before Issei and leans forward. To Issei's surprise, his friend encloses him in a tight embrace. He does not move.

Jinpanchi closes his eyes. "It's the most beautiful face I've ever seen," he says softly against his ear.

Issei blinks. Tears are in his eyes and he closes them to prevent their escape. "Liar," he says.

He feels Jinpanchi pull back, only to feel the soft lips on his mouth. Only a small kiss, a hesitant one. Almost like the first one Issei gave him on that rooftop so, so long ago. But also different from the one Gyokulan and Enju shared.

The thought makes him sad and happy at the same time.

*

He stops before a convenient store on the way home and stares at the window. He does not see the goods being sold inside. Instead, he raises a hand to touch his lips in wonder.

He smiles.

"Beautiful?" he asks softly.

Then he shakes his head, still smiling, and walks on.