The time had come, and the nervousness seemed to want to consume every inch of Takashi's body. His heart pounded violently and rapidly against his chest, and the lump in his throat ached too much. If he didn't move now, he would regret it forever or, at worst, feel nothing at all—after all, the dead are so indifferent to everything. He stood up and left his materials behind, approaching Professor Tanaka, the short man with a focused expression who was writing on the blackboard. ー E-excuse me... ー he said quietly, afraid of being heard by anyone other than the older man. Perhaps even by him as well. ー Yes, Takashi? ー he whispered back. ーUhm... I'm not feeling very well. Can I leave a little early? ー Of course, feel free. Simpler than expected. Or rather, he had imagined the worst for too long. The teacher continued writing on the blackboard as if nothing had happened, and Takashi, in turn, returned to his desk to gather his history books and notebooks, leaving the room seconds later with calm steps, his breathing accelerated. Outside, an empty hallway, impeccably clean and completely silent. He had a ten-minute advantage. Not a second could be wasted. To avoid making more noise than necessary, he removed his shoes before running to the back of the building and climbing the stairs that led to the rooftop. Upon arriving, he took half a dozen steps before sitting on the ground and dropping his belongings right beside him. Above his head was a blue sky full of clouds, some birds in a flock taking distance, and far away, buildings, mountains, and more skies. He had never done anything like this, and if it weren't for his tormentors, he certainly would never have needed to. He laughed humorlessly and sighed, letting his long purple hair down, combing the strands carefully with his fingers as he remembered when the bastards ambushed him with scissors. It was long again, and the only guarantee that it would continue to grow was the fact that showing up with cut hair and a face swollen from crying would draw the teachers' attention again. They hadn't liked that at all. Takashi sighed again and lay down on the concrete, thinking for the umpteenth time that he couldn't count on the help of responsible adults. If he did, besides getting a historic beating, his parents would find out not only about the bullying but also about the reason for it. They would find out that besides being beaten at school, he liked boys. His father was too strict, his mother too submissive. He would be kicked out of the house, left in Kamagasaki to die of hunger or shame, whichever came first. Thinking about this was painful, let alone exposing it to someone with whom he would continue to interact and who would probably judge him until his last day. "Talking about this..." He never had anyone to talk to properly. All he had was himself. ー Some guys... He began, but interrupted himself, feeling idiotic, pathetic, the lump in his throat returning forcefully and his vision blurring. "... can do you good." ー Some guys at school pick on me because... I don't look like a guy... It's not like I did anything to them, I don't like trouble and I can't even defend myself... They always find me before or after classes, hurt me, yell at me... Me not looking like a guy isn't even the worst part, I could try to look like a guy again to escape the beatings I've been taking... The worst is that I confessed to one of those guys and... The tears began to flow, and the catch in his voice revealed the pain that struggled, trying to escape from within the boy. Why does it have to hurt so much? he thought, trying to wipe his face with clenched fists. The words of that girl in a self-help book excerpt came back, an encouragement that led him to continue, despite everything: ー He was nice to me, we even talked before, studied together, but then... He looked at me with disgust when I gave him chocolate on Valentine's Day, as if I were a mangy animal... He said no one would want a fag like me around... He said... He said I didn't deserve to be alive... Shit, he could have just said no... I would have understood... Takashi now cried trying to contain himself. He had much more to say, but he couldn't. He spent minutes like that, just trying not to make too much noise, cried until the urge passed and only sobs remained, gradually becoming calmer. Then he looked at the sky again. ー That's very sad... Takashi sat up abruptly, enough to feel dizzy, searching for the origin of the deep voice with desperation etched in his gaze. A tall, thin boy with brown hair, his shirt with two buttons open and his tie loose, his jacket hanging loosely over his shoulders, his hands in his pants pockets, his back leaning against the wall in a slouchy manner. His face was pale, under his eyes, marks of sleepless nights, an expression that broke between drowsiness and disinterest. He had never seen that boy anywhere. Nor did his voice sound familiar. The blush climbed up Takashi's face, reaching his ears. He stood up and didn't know what to do next. He kept staring at the boy, slightly taller than him, with fear, not knowing how to react. Not knowing if he was in any danger. Not knowing how much he had heard. ー I won't hurt you... It was good that he warned him, Takashi would be happier, however, if the information had been considered. His body remained as it was: in the same place, in the same position, with the same rigidity, the same slight backward lean, the same symptoms of collapse as when he found him there. ー ... and, if it's worth anything, I also have no one to tell your secret to. ー W-who are you? This time it wasn't automatic. It seemed, on purpose, ridiculously slow to Takashi. He raised his fists, taking an attack position that wouldn't protect him from any kind of blow; he was too trembling, barely had enough steadiness to stay on his feet, and the crying threatened to start again in the face of the situation. Takashi saw the boy propel himself forward, slow steps coming in his direction. The first reaction was to back away, but soon he could check that there was a limit to how far he could go: the parapet hit his back, and even though the boy didn't threaten in any way, Takashi himself surrendered to the concrete. And the boy kept advancing until they were face to face. ー Kimura Tomo. ー And then, he bowed in a formal bow, remaining in that position for a while, under the shocked gaze of the other. ー This is the place where I've been coming to smoke and curse the world for a few years, I never expected to find someone here someday... I apologize for hearing your venting and I guarantee I will never hurt you for that or any other reason, so... Don't be afraid of me. Takashi listened, at first, because he didn't feel comfortable trying to flee, but the words were spoken with such calm that it demanded his attention, the posture remained rigid and in no way compared to before, revealing the seriousness of what he said. It was a beautiful contrast, something new because they had never been so patient in his worst moments and also didn't show respect upon knowing his true face. A strange guy. Or too correct for the standards he had been facing in recent years. ー O-ok... ー he said quietly, his hands falling to his sides, his breathing regular, but his heart still beating fast. ー Are you okay? This was the kind of question he didn't hear often, and given the context, Takashi presumed that Kimura Tomo was interested in a frank answer. There was nothing more to hide, anyway. First, he took a deep breath. Trying to assimilate the scenario seemed useless, but he needed to calm down, or at least better manage the agitation in his chest. Considering the series of events that had happened up to a few seconds ago, he was happy not to have been pushed off the top of the building or something. He was also confused, but he didn't feel the usual desperation of imagining the worst possibilities, just... a curiosity. ー Yes...? A grimace. The dark-haired boy straightened up and contained his laughter as much as he could upon seeing that grimace. ー You... ー Tomo cleared his throat, trying to compose himself. ー Do you think they might be waiting for you? Takashi had forgotten his problems. This was easy to verify because his shoulders dropped, his lips pressed into a pout, his eyes diverted toward the school exit, just below. The flow of students was much reduced, some boys concentrated on the facade and a few others went slowly outside, which made Takashi wonder how much time had passed since he arrived there. The sky was a little more colorful, tones of yellow and pink tinged the firmament. At that moment, he remembered one of those damn encounters with the group of boys who mistreated him two blocks ahead of the school, in an alley near his house. ー They might be... ー he finally said. Tomo nodded and looked around before stepping away. He bent down to pick up Takashi's backpack and shoes from the floor and returned to him with a gentle smile. ー It's getting late... I can walk you home. Just in case. If you want... Takashi took the shoes first and put them on, only then grabbing the backpack, placing the straps over his shoulders, his face burning with embarrassment. ー Please... The taller one nodded once more and turned, heading toward the staircase calmly. It took a few seconds for Takashi to follow him, head down. It wasn't as if he was ungrateful or anything. He was suspicious, too fearful. The damn habit of projecting the worst situations kept his mind occupied as he walked slowly, a few meters behind Tomo. The late afternoon sky colored the corridors and cast long shadows along the way, the silence more like a trap. ー Are you in your first year? ー Yes... They continued walking and found the main door closed. Tomo opened it slowly and waited for Takashi to pass before doing the same and closing it again. Together, they walked out of the premises, but not knowing where to go, the dark-haired boy glanced sideways at Takashi to stop beside him and point in the correct direction, to the left. ー And you? ー Takashi asked only then, resuming walking. ー Second year. ー He answered as soon as he realized it was the subject he himself had started minutes before. ー Have you always studied here? I've never seen you. ー Uhum. ー He nodded affirmatively, his hands clenched around the backpack straps. ー I've never seen you either. ー What's your name? ー Uhm... Ishikawa Takashi. ー Ah... So you're the boy with the beanie... Kimura's deep voice sounded lower, almost like a whisper. Takashi looked around, checking if anyone was listening, and nodded with his head down. The dark-haired boy smiled understandingly and placed one of his hands on the smaller boy's back, to calm him, but under the pretext of guiding him across the crosswalk. Takashi didn't know where to hide from embarrassment. ー Your hair grew very fast then. And it's quite beautiful. Do you dye it yourself? Takashi felt his chest race again. His face warmed again. It was inevitable to smile. Compliments made him embarrassed. ー Thank you. ー He thanked quietly, squeezing the straps even tighter. ー I dye it myself... ー I wish I had the courage to do something like that... Like dyeing it pink like Hide, but I'm afraid of going bald before forty. Takashi laughed. First because Hide was his biggest inspiration. Coloring his hair and playing guitar were things he learned because of him. Second because being a guy, that was a reasonable concern; his father barely had hair and he doubted he had ever considered dyeing it when younger, even in thoughts. ー You can dye just the tips and... The smaller boy turned to look at the brown hair, not by chance found the tired face framing a discreet smile—which is why he avoided the gaze again, embarrassed. ー Maybe someday. ー He declared while still looking at Takashi. His hand still rested on the other's lower back, even though they had already crossed the crosswalk, and as they were near another crossing, he kept it there. ー Do you like Hide too? ー Takashi nodded. ー That's cool. There's a chance we'll meet at a concert. ー Next month... Both started to say at the same time and then there was a meaningful exchange of glances before they laughed. ー Are you going, Kimura? This time, it was Takashi who asked, easing the grip on the straps a bit and raising his head, able to see the path even emptier than before, if that was possible. ー If all goes well, yes... We can meet there. At that moment, what Takashi feared happened without him even realizing it: three boys were waiting in silence right there, turning the corner. Tomo stared at them but didn't recognize any. They still wore the same uniform; from afar they didn't seem like a threat, but given the context, it was inevitable to associate them with the guys Takashi was talking about. They remained leaning against a wall, looking in the direction of Takashi and Tomo. It was obvious that the older boy didn't want to make a scene. Not after discovering a common subject. Not now that he seemed to have stabilized the purple-haired boy. His first reaction was to wrap his arm around Takashi's shoulders. It took some effort to focus on the path ahead and pretend indifference, but Tomo did well, as much as possible. ー You can call me Tomodachi, just don't tell anyone. He spoke as if it were indeed a secret. The more direct contact, to the luck of both, didn't scare Takashi. In fact, he laughed at the approach and the wordplay used, understanding the message behind the joke. Tomo stepped away a few meters ahead when he felt it was enough, but he still couldn't lower his guard. From time to time he looked back, to the sides, counting on the discretion of someone who observes more than acts, as he already had a habit. And he saw nothing beyond the dusk, the empty streets, the movement of the treetops. Takashi, on the other hand, was oblivious to the older boy's concern. So much so that he didn't notice what had happened. Instead, he was thinking about what would make such a thoughtful, tasteful, and handsome guy climb a building and curse the world alone. He concluded that the cigarette issue explained part of that doubt, but at the same time raised even more questions. Tomo seemed tired. Whenever he looked at him, he saw the gray-lead outline under his eyes, his features seemed to be signs that he could collapse from exhaustion at any moment, and yet he smiled at him. ー Why do you need to go up to the rooftop of that building, Tomo-senpai? ー At first, I just felt that no one there would judge me for being tired. I also suffered bullying not for "not looking like a guy," although I'm also gay, but because I've always been strange. Takashi widened his eyes and stopped in place for a fraction of a second. Tomo was too direct. To disguise, all clumsy, he began to pin his hair and resumed walking side by side with Tomo. ー To them, I was an aberration, so being alone was always safer, and over time I got used to it. But at a certain point, I started asking myself questions that hurt. If I wasn't to blame for not having friends, or for the problems at home, for example. When I said I was going to curse others, maybe I exaggerated, sometimes yes, but usually it's to question my existence. And to smoke too. Takashi nodded and pointed to a curve, where seconds later they turned and silence prevailed for a while. It wasn't as if much needed to be said: Takashi understood what it was like to feel that way, and Tomo knew that very well. But Takashi mustered courage from who knows where to say: ー You're not strange... I mean... You're a good strange. Tomo laughed nasally. ー I'm serious. ー Takashi reinforced. ー You were kind to me, so far that's the only thing that makes you strange. ー Now that sounds like a compliment, but that means you consider yourself strange. ー Basically... But- ー Then I can like being strange. You're cool. Takashi secretly agreed with that, and from then on they continued walking, quiet as if they had used up all their repertoire of subjects, but content with the progress they had made in just one day. Neither commented, but it had been a while since the last time they hadn't talked a lot—and in this case, they hadn't even talked that much. Minutes later they arrived in front of Takashi's house. One of the first things Tomo did was check if there was anyone around, and Takashi, completely awkward, put his hands in his pockets, one of them playing with the house key, trying to contain his nervousness. ー This is it. ー Well... ー Can we really meet at the concert? Takashi asked before courage escaped. It would be good, he thought, the apples of his cheeks were red, there was also a slightly worried expression, perhaps anxious for an answer, and Tomo laughed at that. ー We can. But we'll see each other at school too, right? Takashi had forgotten that detail, and it was evident in the thoughtful pout he made. ー Yeah. ー Then, see you tomorrow, Takashi. ー See you tomorrow, Tomo-senpai. Tomo placed his hand on top of Takashi's head and smiled at him one last time before going his own way, in the opposite direction from where they came, walking at the same pace that had brought them there. Takashi smiled and ran to his room to do what he always did, but now with the enthusiasm forgotten in good childhood. He locked himself in his room and spent practically the whole night listening to music and strumming his guitar with a silly smile. He didn't do his homework. He had dinner under the curious looks of his parents, who said nothing about the evident difference in Takashi's expression. He brushed his teeth and lay down to sleep, but sleep took a while to come. And, "suddenly," he was awake again. No insomnia, no nightmares, just a break in time between a longer blink of the eyes and the sound of the alarm. How long had it been since he slept like that? He jumped out of bed, put on his uniform, put on his shoes, fixed his hair, and prepared his backpack. He went to the kitchen, greeted his parents, had breakfast, and without saying goodbye, left ready to start his routine. Takashi always left running. Takashi needed to arrive as quickly as possible. But not today. A tall boy with brown hair, pale skin, twirled a pencil between his fingers, looking beyond with a face like someone redesigning the horizon with due concentration. Takashi couldn't lie, he was surprised to see Tomo again even after knowing the secret he wanted to hide even from himself. Or rather, he was happy to have him there. ー Good morning, Tomo-senpai ー Takashi said, closing the gate behind him with a smile that didn't reach his eyes. ー Good morning, Takashi. ー The other replied, holding the pencil in his fist, now closed. ー I thought you might need company to get to class. ー If it's not a bother... ー Takashi murmured awkwardly. ー Believe me, it's not. Tomo placed his hand on top of Takashi's head, staring at him with a small smile, with the same tired features as the day before, but for whatever reason, a different glow in his eyes stood out, making the younger boy lose himself in the brown irises.