As usual, my lack of context has left another friend of mine in the lurch. I should probably explain myself before I go on another long tangent. First thing’s first, I need to talk to him about my initial reservations.
I sat down on my bed with my violet comforter that I took great pains to neatly tuck in and offered for him to sit down with my guiding hand.
“Kenta, when I became curious about you, I had a feeling there was something I’d need to do differently with you, to ensure that my relationship would be successful,” I said.
Kenta remained in the center of the room, his arms crossed a bit tighter.
“The way you describe it, I’d suspect that dating me was a daunting task of some kind.”
“No, no. Well, not exactly. I’d have to do something that at the back of my mind I’d knew I’d have to do since my last few relationships. I would need to abandon all protocol designed to protect myself from harm and jump into a long-term relationship with you.”
Kenta froze for a moment. His head swiveled, mentally bartering some thoughts in his head, humming to himself, only to grunt in frustration. I could only assume by the gradually escalating volume of his laughter that the thoughts were ultimately good.
“So you already decided that—no matter what—you’d continue going out with me?”
“Yes. Let me just say, that the one time I committed myself to a longer relationship, things had a way of spiraling out of control. I thank all the allies of love in this vast galaxy of ours that my first date kept speaking to me after everything went wrong.”
Kenta tried stifling a laugh that forced its way out of his diaphragm, and instead a wide smile plastered his face, the happy creases spreading to the corners of his eyes. I either said something funny, or endearing. I could never tell which.
He closed the gap between us and sat down next to me.
“I get it. More than you can ever know. Even agreeing to a practice date as friends was nerve wracking for me. I can never tell when I’m giving too much of myself into the relationship, and my last couple of relationships haven’t been a good litmus for that.”
“Yeah. I suppose what I’m trying to say is that longer relationships scare me. I have no idea how to act, to know when someone’s upset, and most importantly, I can never gauge how interested someone is in me romantically.”
Kenta gave a nervous laugh that sounded like a rusty saw cutting wood.
“To be fair, neither do half of the people that are lucky enough to regularly date people,” Kenta said, his tongue spitting with disgust.
“Kenta, after our first date is finished, do you want to continue dating me?”
“I’d say that we technically already had our first date, but I don’t want you to start randomly freaking out,” Kenta said.
“Well—now that you rudely mention it. I guess that we have.”
As I tried to vainly drain the blood out of my reddened cheeks, I felt a small sense of accomplishment from this friendly date. If romantic dates meant having fun with friends, maybe the rest of our relationship could be like this.
I’d like for things to remain comfortable, just like this.
***
“Kotonoha, is everything alright?”
I shook my head, trying to jerk myself away from the dreamy state created by my romantic high and remembered the other parts of my plan I wanted to tell Kenta.
“Oh yes, there were a few other things I wanted to tell you. I’ve been writing these Experience Journals for myself all this time, almost as a sort of personal comfort, but I think I can use them to change the school’s perception of us. I want to make the fictional narrative in your journal a reality, and use it to displace your reputation as the Tyrant Prince.”
“How will we do that? I’m honestly not the great person you depict me as.”
“Remember, Kenta. I only write what I observe,” I said, lunging close to him to circle my arms around him in a tight embrace. “You really need to stop being so hard on yourself.”
I heard a subtle sniffling in my ear, followed by a barely audible giggle.
“You have such an overactive imagination, but I appreciate the sentiment,” he said, turning away as soon as I let go of him.
“So what do we do next to make this journal’s vision a reality,” he continued, keeping his back turned for a few more moments before recollecting himself.
“We’re going to write new moments in our life, one by one,” I said.
I wasn’t entirely sure moments could be created as easily as they are in fiction, but I was determined to will a new perception of ourselves into existence.
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