Do what he says? What did he mean by that? I think he might be misunderstanding something.

“Sure”

Yasumori laughed under his breath and leaned into my chest, my heart ran laps, his body heat against mine. How can he be so comfortable wiht me already?

“Really?” Yasumori said. He looked up to meet my eyes

His smile was soft, delicate, I wish I got to see it more often.

“Yeah”

“Can you walk me home today?”

Yasumori’s house was right next to the train station anyway.

***

I walked a few paces behind him. He was pretty fast despite his cartoonishly heavy backpack weighing down his small frame.

“What do you like to do in your freetime?” I ask.

“Well, I mostly like to l-listen to song covers online or just write stuff down.”

“Do you do stuff with your parents?”

“With my mom sometimes, yeah”

“Do you have a good relationship with your dad?”

“I-I never really knew him, he left when I was kid”

“I’m sorry…”

“Don’t worry about it, it’s been years. He’s a dirtbag anyway”

I felt bad for him. While everyone's had their ups and downs with their mothers and fathers, I don't think i’d even be able to image a world in which I couldn’t go to my dad to talk. But maybe it’s different for him, maybe he doesn’t want to talk to his dad. I decided to change the conversation.

“Do you have all your school stuff in that bag?”

“Oh, yeah I guess, they’re all textbooks.”

My heart skipped for a bit while I pondered asking him if I could carry it for him. Maybe that's too cheesy. I could tell after each question I asked, Yasumori seemed to be enjoying himself. I don’t think he really gets to talk about himself often.

“Do you always take all your books home?”

“If I don't, I worry s-something might happen to them. Y’know, like those g-guys might do something to them.”

“Ah, I understand”

It seemed Yasumori thought about stuff like that often. He was a smart kid. I don’t think I could handle being bullied like that. But honestly, I wasn’t sure if yasumori could really handle it either.

He seemed off when it came to social interaction. Sure everyone has at least one introverted friend, but yasumori was different kind of off. It felt as if he didn’t really get much social interaction as a kid, and it was noticeable.

Yasumori and I parted at the corner of Spring street, and he waved goodbye to me. He was the only thing to look forward to at school tomorrow.

***

Yasumori greeted me this morning with a poem he wrote, it seemed to be about his troubles with his dad, except written in a way to convey a story about a mother who gave away her child. You could tell a lot of emotion was written between every line. That same morning, I greeted Yasumori with a hug.

Class seemed to be starting off good today, most of our lessons were review, and Yasumori had started talking to me in class more. Hour english teacher was a hardass, we made jokes about him being shaped like an egg. As the day went on it was clear Yasumori and I were getting closer to each other with each passing day.

During lunch I went to the library. Our school had started doing “Battle of the Books”, and I wanted to see what was on the reading list. Maybe I could talk to Yasumori about it, he likes writing at least.

Looking at the books, a few cough my eye. “Everything, Everything” by Nicola Yoon, seemed to hold my attention. A book about a girl allergic to the world, who has to be locked up and confined to her room 24/7. It seemed like something I could relate to, as I never really left my house after school, I would go as far too say as I don’t get enough sunlight. I decided to check it out, and head back to class.

Just as I walked out of the library, I spotted the group of guys not ten feet from the entrance, and in the middle was Yasumori. Are you serious? again?

“I want a coke, and Inui wants the pumpkin bread.”

“Yeah and I’ll get the, uh, I don't know. Something with cinnamon”

Yasumori stood below them.

“You got that little guy?”

Yasumori didn’t respond, he simply, quietly, stayed put in front of them. Was he, standing up for himself? I felt a wave of excitement, but it was quickly pulled back into the sea of anxiousness.

“Melon bread weirdo, can ya’ hear me? Don’t just stand there with that creepy ass smile.”

The “weird ass smile”, was yasumori straining again. I thought I told him not to do that. I stepped closer to the group.

“Are you crying little guy?”

“Woah, thats weak, kinda funny though”

Yasumori was crying? Why hadn’t he left yet? Could he move? The leader of the group looked up to me.

“Might as well cry to your boyfriend over there, weirdo. You make me sick”

Yasumori turned around, tears cascaded down his cheeks, and his smile was horrid. It was fake, plastic, forced, strained. But I only saw if for a second. The group of guys walked off back to class, and Yasumori dropped the smile, letting it shatter onto the floor beneath him. He walked over and buried his face in my chest, and I held him. I was proud of him for not moving, even though it hurt him so much. The more he does it, The easier it’ll be. The better he’ll be able to defend himself. The first step was always the hardest, the most draining. 

So, just for a while, I held him.