The last time I saw her wrists was after sports day ended. Compared to back then, the cuts now looked almost fresh—like they'd been made only the day before. She wasn't 'bleeding' per se, but there was blood beading at the edges.
Keeping my gaze fixed down, I unrolled the bandage and began gently wrapping it around her wrist. She didn't even wince, but just to be sure, I asked, "Does it hurt?"
"Of course it does," she said at once. "I'm not immune to pain or anything. I'm a girl, too."
In hindsight, it was a stupid question to ask. I should have known better.
"Sorry. What I meant to ask was—am I hurting you?"
At that moment, she flinched. My hands stopped immediately, and my head snapped up—only to see that her face wasn't creased with pain, but instead had a soft, cherry smile.
"Hehe," she giggled. "Got you."
The worry that had bubbled in my chest withered away instantly as I stared at her flatly.
"Haha," I said, completely unamused. "Very funny."
She laughed harder, the bed shaking slightly. "Hehehe. You don't have to be so stingy about it. It's just a joke."
But I stayed silent, head remaining down, finishing up with her first wrist. Once I tied off the bandage, she lifted her hand and pressed it against my cheek.
"Hey," she said, soft as a lullaby, slowly turning my head toward her. "Stop acting so offended. I know you thought it was a little funny."
My brow lifted. "Acting? I wasn't acting. I'm being for real real."
Mei rolled her eyes. "Now I know you're being overdramatic. No one says 'for real real' unironically."
"What? I don't know what you're talking abo–"
Suddenly, her gentle caress tightened into a vicious pinch as she dug her fingers into my cheek and pulled. My hands shot forward instinctively, but froze just before they could reach her.
What was I supposed to do? Force her off? Maybe I could play rough with her if she were Lily—or maybe even Luna and Remi—but she wasn't.
So, with a heavy heart, I lowered my hands and surrendered to her grasp.
"Okay, okay, I give up. It was a little funny."
Mei let go of my cheek with an approving smile. "Good."
Then she held out her other arm and let me bandage that wrist. Once I finished, she pulled her arms back and gave each bandage a few measured strokes.
"So, how is it?" I asked.
She lingered a bit before answering. "Well, it doesn't hurt anymore. So I'd say you did a good job."
Then, she leaned in closer and gave me a small kiss on the cheek. When she pulled back, her cheeks carried a faint—almost non-existent—tinge of pink.
"Thank you, Hoshino."
I watched as she moved away from me with an almost alluring grace and leaned back against the bed frame. Her words echoed repeatedly in my ears as she stared at me, her deep purple eyes streaked with pink bearing into my soul.
My body inched forward—but I caught myself and pushed myself off the bed.
Mei didn't react in the slightest. She just continued to gaze at me.
"Anyway, did you put your undergarments in the dryer?" I asked, trying to change the topic. "If you did, I'll go get that sorted out right now."
"Yeah, they should be there."
"K."
I turned around, walked toward the dryer, and got the machine started. I had only been away from my room for less than ten seconds, but by the time I came back, Mei was off the bed and was staring at one of my two photos of me as a kid hung on my walls.
Even as I entered the room and closed the door a little louder than usual, she didn't stop staring.
I stepped beside her, staring at my own photograph for the first time in who knows how many years.
We continued to stare in silence before she asked, "How old were you when this was taken?" Her gaze was still fixed on the picture.
I responded instantly. "I was in the second grade, so however old second graders usually are."
"Is that so…"
As if on cue, Mei shifted her weight to her left leg, her hand brushing against mine. Before it could get any further away, I reached out and grabbed her hand, intertwining my fingers between hers. She did the same.
She didn't ask anything, and she still didn't turn my way. She just continued to stare at the photo.
I paused for a moment, looking between her and the photo, then let out a deep breath. "I look a lot different now compared to back then, don't I?"
Some might call it egotistical, but I thought that I was a handsome guy. I definitely wasn't a model or anything, but for just a human being, I'd like to think that I was good-looking. I wasn't afraid to admit it; after all, I put effort into learning how to style my hair and dress myself.
It was only then that Mei broke eye contact with the photo and looked my way.
"No," she said slowly. "I don't think you do."
My head pulled back a fraction, surprised by her answer. "Really? Well. I think that I do."
Mei didn't say anything. She just waited, silently supporting me to keep going—and I did.
"As you can see in the photo, I was a pretty chubby kid. Not that there's anything wrong with being chubby as a kid—but I hated it. I used to be ashamed of myself, but now that I'm looking back on it, I don't really care about it anymore. I just see me."
I lifted my hand and pointed at the shirt I was wearing. The photo was an upper-body portrait that mainly showed your face and only a few inches down from your shoulder. Still, from the little bit of my shirt you could see, you could easily make out holes, tears, and stains.
"And then, there was my clothing. It shouldn't be a secret to you by now, but back then, we were pretty broke."
In fact, it wasn't a secret at all. Both Luna and Yu already knew about it—Yu especially, since he was broke too—and since I joked about it at karaoke, everyone else should know about it. So it was okay to disclose this.
Mei gave a small nod, urging me on.
"Anyway," I continued. "As a kid, I didn't think much of it. Clothes were just clothes, after all. I'd rather spend my money on games or something. But as you can see now…"
I tugged Mei over toward my closet and opened it. On the bottom row were countless pairs of pants varying in size and style, from fancy dress pants to comfy basketball shorts for home. The same applied to my tops as well.
Mei took a step forward, letting go of my hand. I didn't resist. I just leaned back and sat on my mattress, watching her examine my closet.
She wasn't really looking at my clothes; it was more like she was looking for traces of 'me.'
After rummaging around a bit, Mei grabbed a slightly washed-out white bomber jacket and traced her thumb along the sleeve.
"You know," she said matter-of-factly. "When your Dad showed me your kindergarten photo—while I didn't think you were ugly like he did—I did think it was interesting how your fashion sense developed."
She took the jacket off the hanger and inspected it closely. "What I want to know is, why did you decide to change? Is it because you were insecure? Or–"
"Don't get the wrong idea," I interrupted. "While some of my friends back then did call me ugly, I never really cared. I was just a kid, after all. Still, as I grew older, I just wanted to… grow up, I guess. There was no real reason."
With a groan, I fell onto the bed, the light blinding my eyes, but I didn't squint.
"I just wanted to do it. That's all it was. For me."
"...I guess I should have expected that from you."
For a brief moment, no one said anything. That is—until a soft rustle broke the quiet. Curious, I sat up, arms braced behind me.
Mei had just put on the white bomber jacket, studying the way it suited her as she lifted an arm to look at the sleeve.
"How long have you had this?" she asked. "All your clothes look pretty new. At least, except for this one."
I paused, thinking for a moment. "I think I got that in the summer, entering high school. It was the first piece of clothing I actually picked out. And while I don't wear it anymore since it's kind of washed out, I couldn't throw it away."
"Is that so…"
Without waiting for a reply, Mei zipped the jacket up and shoved her hands into the pockets, ducking her chin into the collar as if holding onto it tightly. "Then I'll be taking this jacket now—since you don't wear it anymore."
It was weird—but seeing Mei this possessive—or stubborn about—something like this nipped the tips of my ears with a tinge of warmth.
"Sure," I said with a shrug. "I don't care. You can keep the pants and shirt you're wearing right now while you're at it. I'll give you a bag so you can carry everything in."
"Okay. Then–"
Suddenly, a notification blared out in the room, and we both froze. Our earlier lighthearted tones lingered in the room for a second longer before fizzling out of existence.
Even so, Mei didn't fail to flash me her cheery smile. "Sorry, Hoshino. I just got a text. I need to take this."
My throat tightened, but my words still came out flat and indifferent. "Yeah, sure. Take your time."
Mei slowly took her hand out of the pockets of my bomber jacket and reached into her pants.
She pulled out her phone and pressed her thumb against the side, turning it on. The light of the screen reflected in her eyes as they flickered with an all-enveloping black.
She froze, her breath stopping. Yet—her smile remained unchanging.