Invitation
"Here we go," Akane muttered under her breath, her signature smirk returning to her lips like a drawn blade. "The show is about to begin."
'I didn't want to see her...' I thought, with my fists clenching involuntarily.
Kurone stopped just a few feet in front of us, her smile so blindingly bright it looked like it had been painted onto her face.
Kenji trailed behind her, his hands still shoved deep into the pockets of his flashy letterman jacket.
He looked incredibly bored, his eyes drifting down the hallway as if he were already calculating how long he had to stand here before he could leave.
Kurone, however, was practically vibrating with a frantic, almost forced innocence.
She had clearly reapplied her glossy lip balm, and the heavy, cloying scent of her signature vanilla perfume hit me like a physical wave.
Just two days ago, that scent would have triggered a Pavlovian response in my brain, making me stand up straighter, eager to please, and eager to carry whatever burden she was about to drop at my feet.
But after inhaling the cedar, peppermint, and raw smoke of Akane's sanctuary, the vanilla just smelled artificial. It smelled desperate. It started smelling like rot masked by cheap sugar.
"Hey, guys!" Kurone beamed, clapping her hands together, before pointedly moving her gaze first to me, then to Akane, her large eyes gleaming.
The panic I had seen on her face at the school gates this morning was carefully hidden away, buried under layers of practiced charm, but I could see the microscopic tremors at the corners of her mouth. "I've been thinking all morning, and I have the absolute best idea!"
"Let me guess," Akane deadpanned, taking a slow, agonizingly nonchalant sip of her coffee. Her golden eyes were flat and utterly unimpressed. "You've finally realized that wearing pink ribbons doesn't actually count as a personality trait?"
Kenji snorted loudly, covering his mouth with the back of his hand to hide a sudden, barking laugh.
Kurone's smile twitched violently. Her left eye gave a tiny spasm before the "angel" mask clamped firmly back down over her features.
"Ahaha, very funny as always, Akane!" she chirped, though her voice was noticeably strained, the pitch slightly too high and brittle. "No, silly! I was thinking... Kenji and I just started dating, and it's such a huge milestone for me! And since Shin is my absolute best friend in the whole wide world..."
She looked at me, her wide eyes shiny and pleading for a reaction.
I could hear her words. 'Look at me,' she was silently demanding. 'Look at how gracious and kind I am. I'm including you. I'm giving you my attention. Come back to me.'
"...and you're my best girl friend, Akane, I think we should all celebrate together!"
I stared at her blankly.
A celebration.
She wanted to celebrate the exact event that had shattered my soul into a thousand jagged pieces and driven me to the edge of the school roof. The sheer audacity, the staggering, fathomless lack of empathy required to make such a request, was breathtaking.
Did she consider me as a human being or as a prop? I didn't know.
I felt the familiar urge to grit my teeth.
The rot was rising in my throat, thick, black, and bitter. I opened my mouth, fully intending to tell her that I would rather swallow broken glass and wash it down with battery acid than sit in a room with her and the guy who had stolen seven years from me.
But before the words could leave my tongue, Akane's hand dropped casually onto my forearm.
Her grip was light, just the tips of her fingers brushing against the fabric of my navy blazer, but the message was absolute.
'Stand down. I've got this.' That's what I understood.
I closed my mouth instantly, the anger subsiding into a cold, focused calm.
Akane was surely more lucid than me, so that was the only option I had.
"A celebration?" Akane mused, tilting her head. She looked Kenji up and down, sizing him up like a piece of cheap meat at a butcher's shop, before shifting her gaze back to Kurone. "A double date to celebrate your 'milestone'. How incredibly cliché of you, Kuro. Haha!"
Kurone's face fell slightly, her bottom lip jutting out in that practiced, helpless pout she used to manipulate teachers and boys alike. "So... you don't want to come?"
Akane smiled—that same sweet, terrifying, predatory smile from the morning at the gates.
"Are you kidding? I wouldn't miss it for the world," Akane purred. She squeezed my arm, stepping just a fraction of an inch closer to me, cementing our physical unity in front of them. "We'd love to come. Right, Shin?"
When she touched my arm, I could feel Kurone's eyes tracing every single movement.
After Akane's reply, I looked down at her, meeting her golden eyes and seeing the blueprint for the destruction she was planning.
"Y-Yeah," I said, my voice completely deadpan, devoid of any warmth or emotion. "We'd love to."
Kurone's expression then changed dramatically.
Her face lit up, though her eyes were flashing with a frantic, triumphant calculation. I wondered what she was thinking.
"Perfect!" she squealed, practically vibrating with excitement. "A double date! The four of us at the Karaoke box downtown! We'll meet you guys at the main gates right after the final bell! Don't be late!"
She grabbed Kenji's arm, her manicured fingers digging into his jacket, and practically dragged him down the hallway, her mission accomplished. She didn't look back once.
I watched them disappear around the corner, my jaw set so tight it ached.
"Karaoke? Really?" I asked, turning to Akane the second they were out of earshot. "You want us to sit in a tiny, soundproof room and watch them feed on each other? I thought the point was to let her show me how little I mean to her, but this feels like active torture."
Akane took a final sip of her coffee and tossed the aluminum can into the nearby recycling bin. It hit the bottom with a loud, hollow clatter that echoed down the empty corridor.
"I don't want to watch them feed on each other, Shin," she said, turning to me with a look of profound, dark excitement. The blue-white flame that had been burning in my own heart seemed to reflect flawlessly in her golden eyes. "I want to lock them in a tiny, soundproof room and let her realize that the audience isn't clapping for her anymore. Tonight, we expose the rot. Completely."
"Moreover, did you see her change of expression when we accepted? She had probably thought that I was helping her. What an asshole." Akane said, with a hint of sarcasm in her voice.
"I don't know what to think anymore, to be honest." I sighed.
Then, Akane pushed off the wall, adjusting the strap of her leather messenger bag.
"But first," she said, her tone shifting to something more practical and commanding. "We need to make a detour. You can't wear the same school uniform all night, and my shirts are going to look a bit strange on you in a brightly lit karaoke room. People will start asking the wrong kind of questions."
"A detour?" I asked, falling into step beside her as the warning bell for the next period rang above us.
"We're going to your house after school," Akane stated, but it wasn't a suggestion. "You need to pack some clean clothes. Some underwear. Your toothbrush. I'll tell Kurone to start going there and that we're gonna be late because you felt sick."
I stopped walking for a fraction of a second, my heart skipping a painful beat. "My house? But... my parents aren't home. They're working overseas."
"Exactly," she said, stopping and turning to face me fully. "And I am not letting you go back into that empty mausoleum alone. I know what that house means to you. I know it's a museum of your past. I know it's filled with seven years of memories of waiting for her calls, of building gifts for her, of staring at the ceiling and wishing she was there."
She stepped closer, her voice dropping to a fierce, protective whisper that made the hair on my arms stand up.
"I am not letting you out of my sight for a single second, Shin. We go to your house together. We pack your things together. And then, you leave that house behind." Her voice sounded different, almost caring.
I looked at her, overwhelmed by the sheer, unapologetic force of her possessiveness. She wasn't just directing a play; she was burning down the old stages so I could never, ever go back.
My house was a monument to my pathetic devotion, and even worse, my bedroom was a shrine to a girl who didn't care if I lived or died.
The thought of walking into those rooms alone, of facing the ghosts of the boy I used to be, sent a cold, paralyzing shiver down my spine. But knowing Akane would be there—knowing she would be standing in my room, overwriting the memories with her overwhelming presence—felt like absolute salvation.
"Okay," I breathed, the word feeling like a surrender of the highest order. "We'll go to my house."