Real (A Suzu/OC Story) Chapter 16 Now Up

[nemz]

Indeed. Colors that don't actually exist in nature are superior to all others.

(Seriously, purple isn't actually a color outside your mind. Google that shit. Now imagine telling Rin.)

[DanjaDoom]

Indeed. Colors that don't actually exist in nature are superior to all others.

(Seriously, purple isn't actually a color outside your mind. Google that shit. Now imagine telling Rin.)

I think Rin would prefer to live in Rinality then.

(It took me five hours to come up with that one).

On a side note, anyone got advice on where I could improve?

[nemz]

Okay. Two things:

Easy: Be a little more descriptive now and then. Don't go nuts and kill the flow of your dialog or let it interrupt comic timing, but every once in a while it's good to stop and look around, both wider (side details, both world-building and thematic) and deeper (subtlety in expression, posture, and other meaningful detail).

Hard: Make more of an effort to establish unique charecter inner voices when you're jumping between viewpoints. I wouldn't change Suzu in the slightest, but Hisao is coming across as much more witty and in the moment rather than his usual distanced, over analyzing and a bit slow on the uptake self.

[DanjaDoom]

Okay. Two things:

Easy: Be a little more descriptive now and then. Don't go nuts and kill the flow of your dialog or let it interrupt comic timing, but every once in a while it's good to stop and look around, both wider (side details, both world-building and thematic) and deeper (subtlety in expression, posture, and other meaningful detail).

Hard: Make more of an effort to establish unique charecter inner voices when you're jumping between viewpoints. I wouldn't change Suzu in the slightest, but Hisao is coming across as much more witty and in the moment rather than his usual distanced, over analyzing and a bit slow on the uptake self.

I can do the first one

And, uh, that's not Hisao...lol. It's an OC. I can understand why you'd be a bit confused, I tried to make him pretty different from Hisao .
The way I'd describe him is "A guy who thinks he's much smarter and cooler than he actually is, with a little streak of asshole, but ultimately a good guy."

[nemz]

And, uh, that's not Hisao...lol. It's an OC.

Oh yeah... the dude with the eye infection or whatever. Totally slipped my mind.

Well, maybe make an effort to remind us now and then?

[DanjaDoom]

And, uh, that's not Hisao...lol. It's an OC.

Oh yeah... the dude with the eye infection or whatever. Totally slipped my mind.

Well, maybe make an effort to remind us now and then?

"By the way, I'm totally not Hisao Nakai. He's a fuckface. I'm not."-Aaron Fukui

Welp, that settles that.

[DanjaDoom]

Importante question.

I like to write about original things on this forum (hence why I'll most likely never write a story about the main characters).

On that note, I'm contemplating just dropping this story and rewriting it as a new story about a surprise character. There's already another Suzu story, after all.

Of course, I'm terrible at making decisions, so I'd like to get some thoughts on this. Drop Snoozu or no?

[Total Destruction]

NO.

[DanjaDoom]

NO.

Is that a yes or no?

[Total Destruction]

An emphatic, bolded, underlined, and smiling "No." In regards to quitting just 'cuz, you know. Naff that. So what if there's already a Suzu arc going on right now. Yours rules, too. It's ultimately your call, though.

[insert_name_here92]

I almost never post anything at all, but let me state with all possible emphasis: NO! And, if you still don't follow me, refer to this video:

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=lgI2ZQVyrBo

[theartificial]

Nah please keep this, this is really different from scissorlips' as this is from an OC's POV while his is from Suzu's POV. And I'm sure your idea of what will play out is different than that of scissorlips'. The way the two main characters in the stories deal with each other is, again, different.

[Guestimate]

You mussssst continue. The fatessssss demand it.

[DanjaDoom]

You mussssst continue. The fatessssss demand it.

B-b-but no one's even drawn any MS Paint masterpieces for me ;_;

[DanjaDoom]

Finally updated!

With Scisscorlips' story apparently coming to an end soon, I feel you could use some more cute narcoleptics in your life.

As I've said before, this one took quite a while to complete, mainly due to an influx of writer's block, lack of motivation, late night crack-parties, etc.

Comments and critiques are a great motivator for me, so please let me know what you like about the story and how I can improve. Enjoy!

Chapter 11: Faith No More
Over-starched rice. Mushy vegetables. Some amorphous forest green blob.

It’s good eats today in the Yamaku cafeteria. I guess with most of the student body taking their lunch into the classrooms to work on festival duties, they decided to cut back on quality. Which is a shame, really. Slackers deserve good nutrition as well.

I inwardly ponder about starting up a Slackers Coalition as I make my way over towards my usual eating area.

“Afternoon,” I greet politely. Oddly enough, the girls don’t even bother to look up at me as they continue to eat away at their gruel. It’s like middle school all over again.

“So, is this some weird girl thing, or...?”

“Nope,” answers Molly, coolly slurping down the contents of her strawberry juice box.

“Am I being hazed? Pretty sure that’s illegal here.”

Another “nope,” this time from Miki, finishing up her snack cake and tossing it aside onto the floor. Neither of them have looked at me.

I turn towards the third conspirator in this strange equation. “Et tu, Suzu?”

She’s barely even trying to hide the fact that she’s ignoring me. Apparently whatever’s 180 degrees stark opposite of me is much more interesting as of now.

“Et tu,” she answers back, finality ringing through her voice even though I can’t see her face.

I wave my arms in exasperation, perhaps more cartoonish than intended. I feel like there should be a studio audience laughing somewhere right now.

“So you’re just going to ignore me right now?”

Miki turns up to meet me for the first time. Her stare is weird, like I was expected to realize something much earlier than I should have.

“Dude, really?”

“Don’t ‘dude’ me! You know I’m slow on the uptake when it comes this stuff! This is abuse of the handicapped, I should report your ass!”

My rambling earns me a firm, tanned hand pressed into my mouth, leaving my final few words to come out as sputtery fart noises.

“Don’t you know the rules of dating around here?” she asks in irritation.

I shake my head, throughly confuddled.

She rolls her eyes. “Look, if you’re going to take a girl out on a date, you can’t see each other until the date. I mean, come on, that’s like the first sentence on the first page in the handbook!”

Before I can raise any more protest, I’m led away from the table, Miki’s bandaged hand held against my spine like a handgun.

“Besides, you need to make more friends. Guy friends, preferably. What will people think if you just hang out with us everyday?”

Well, she... has a point, I guess. Satisfied that I’m far enough away, she gives me a reassuring pat on the shoulder and leaves me to fend for myself. Here I stand, alone in the linoleum jungle. I can’t say I’m not a bit intimidated. I’m good when it comes to talking with people. But introducing myself to people? That’s a whole other animal.

What few tables are occupied are crammed to maximum capacity, the sounds of rambunctious and frantic students cramming to prep for the festival. At my old schools we’d be lucky to get a popcorn stand done--if we had festivals in the first place, I mean. Japanese studiousness shocks me once again.

By some grace, I find a table with only one student. A skinny kid with mousy brown hair, whose anxious sideways glances give away the fact that he’s only recently arrived at Yamaku.

Inspiration strikes me like a semi made of lightning and Norse steel. Now’s my chance. Always I’ve been the kid no one payed attention too. Always I’ve been the “follower”, the moss covered rock passed over by the rolling stones.

No longer. Now is my chance to shape! With as much sureness as I can muster, I proudly stride over to the lone student. Suddenly, I recognize him as being from my class. What was his name again? I’m pretty sure it was...

“Hisao Nakai?”

He jerks up from his barely-touched plate, his face a mixture of fear and discombobulation.

“You’re Hisao Nakai, right?” I ask again, seating myself across from him. Crap, I think I sat in gum.

“Yes?”

“You’re in class 3-3? Just arrived today?”

He nods quietly, the tension is his features relaxing ever so slightly. “Are you the welcoming committee? I’ve already had enough of the other one,” he mumbles, as if fearful there may be a bug nearby.

“What other--oh. So you already met our esteemed class representatives, then?”

The gleam in his eyes dampens to a ghostly, off-color dim. He reminds me of the shell-shocked veterans I see at the bus stop. I can’t blame him.

“They’re not here right now, are they?” he stutters quickly.

“What? Oh, no, they haven’t been to the cafeteria in a week. Festival shit, you know.”

Hisao doesn’t look too convinced of this fact. His body language brings to mind those videos of kids doing desk drills to protect themselves from atom bombs.

“So, what’re you in for?” I ask, attempting to steer the conversation away from any more worrisome topics. I fail spectacularly, of course.

“I’m... not really comfortable explaining that,” answers Hisao, who may blow chunks across the table at any moment, if the look on his face is any indication. I scooch over just to be safe.

“Oh, yeah, that’s cool, totally understandable.... You know, you’re kind of lucky.”

He blinks at me, confused by my cryptic statement.

I run a hand across the length of my scarring, smiling. “You’re better at hiding it.”

“Oh...” he mumbles, a polite smile on his face.

“Hey, you gonna finish that food?”

“Why, you want it?”

“And destroy my stomach lining? Nah. I was just gonna take these to the trash.”

He chuckles a bit and puts his tray on top of mine. I knew my natural charisma would win out here. On my way to the trash bin I make sure to look out for Suzu, looking to put what experience I have in face reading to gauge her reaction.

They’re doing a frankly terrible job of feigning conversation. Every so often I can see them sneak a glance towards me like doting soccer moms watching their children play on the monkey bars. Did I just insult myself? Yeah, pretty sure I did.

I flash them a thumbs up. I’m not sure if they can see it, but oh well.

Wait... I’m getting a feeling. Foreboding. Anxious. Like a rabbit hearing a branch snap.

I don’t want to turn around.

I really don’t want to turn around.

“Fukui, so good to see you!”

Turning around is the absolute last fucking thing I want to do.

“Well, aren’t you going to turn around and say hello to your old clubmates?”

Guess I have no choice now...

“Lezard,” I acknowledge, keeping my voice as formal as possible, given the circumstances.

He’s flanked on both sides by his fellow club members Lelouch and Akio. They haven’t changed much since that (unfortunately) unforgettable night at the Literature club. Lezard seems to have traded his old pair of eyewear in for some wayfarers; I hate to admit it, but they look pretty damn cool.

“You’re going to invite us to sit down, are you not?” he winks in a half-mocking tone.

“Don’t have much of a choice, do I?”

The bespectacled young man grins suspiciously, as if trying to decipher whether or not I was joking. For the record, it’s a little bit of both.

The presence of three new guys has sent Hisao into full on uncomfortable mode. He squirms in his seat as if he were wearing a really itchy sweater. I would too. If I were wearing a sweater, anyway.

“Good to meet you new guy,” Lelouch croons sinisterly. He doesn’t mean it, however, it’s just the way he talks. He seems to be a nice enough guy, if pretty bad at choosing friends.

Hisao doesn’t know that, unfortunately. “Yeah, same here...”

Lezard, once again demonstrating he never learned what the words “personal” or “space” mean, buddies up to poor Hisao and cranes an arm around him.

“Tell me, Hisao, are you a purveyor of fine literature?”

Uh-oh.

Mr. Victim nods his head. “I am, actually. I read a lot while I was in the hos-... Well, I like to read, anyway.”

Lezard smiles like a viper locked in a room with a mouse. “Excellent!”

Hisao looks to be a bit more comfortable now that we’ve come to a topic he enjoys. It’s a shame his only other common-interest buddy is someone as batshit as Lezard.

“Then, would you consider joining up with our esteemed Literature club?”

“Aren't we calling it the ‘Order of the Word’?” asks Akio. At least I know he hasn’t gone mute since last I saw him.

Lezard lets out a laugh that sends a chill down the spine of everyone in the vicinity. I’m pretty sure Hitler laughed nicer than that.

“Oh, Akio dear, of course not! What kind of idiot would choose such an idiotic name for a club?” he grits through his teeth.

So, I guess the whole “dress in robes and play D&D” schtick was abandoned a while ago. It also seems to be a sore spot for Lezard, if the look on Akio’s face is any indication. He looks as if he’s on the verge of either tears or wet pants. Maybe both.

“Listen, why don’t you two entertain our friend Fukui her. Nakai and I have some business to discuss!”

With nary a protest, Hisao follows him (read: gets dragged) out. He turns back to me for reassurance, hopeless confusion written across his face. Unfortunately, reassurance is something I can’t give him. He’s alone with Lezard now. Godspeed, brother.

Akio and Lelouch exhale a breath they seem to have been holding in all day.

I lean a bit closer to them. “So you guys stopped the whole...’Order’ thing, then?”

They half-smile back at me, as if there’s a bitter taste lingering on their tongue.

“Lezard threw a book at my head,” Lelouch states rather bluntly. “War and Peace. It was huge. Sent me to the Nurse’s office and everything. He felt bad about it, at least. Admitted that he may have been... overzealous.”

I can’t help but be sympathetic to their plight. “Damn... You ever think of just quitting?”

They look at each other, unsure of what to say next. Akio finally speaks up for the two of them.

“It’s crossed our mind before, but... well, Lezard is our friend, you know? We've been with him since we first got to this school. I’d feel kind of shitty just up and leaving him.”

“Is it worth it to put up with him?” I ask.

“Maybe,” he shrugs. “He’s a nice guy, once you get over his... eccentric side.”

“That’s one way of putting it,” Lelouch mumbles as he sips on his strawberry milk.

Akio shoots him a disgruntled look. Apparently he’s quite loyal to his friends. I have to admire that in a guy.

“Hey, if it wasn't for him, we’d still be buying lunch for Tano!” Akio contends. His partner shakes his head sullenly; apparently buying Tano’s lunch is a more trauma-inducing event than I think.

“Guess you're right,” Lelouch admits begrudgingly. “Just wish he’d lighten up sometimes. He gets so worked up about stuff! Like that time Suzuki broke it off with him, he was a real wreck after that.”

Brakes screech. Record scratch. Piano smashes onto roof. Scream internally.

“What.”

My sudden shift in demeanor leaves the two of them a bit perplexed. They each look to the other for answers, though neither can come up with anything definitive.

“Are you alright, Fukui?” Akio asks with concern. “You look like your temperature just dropped a bit there...”

Lelouch snaps his fingers like he just came upon a great revelation. “Must be the food. They’re really cutting corners around here. Tried feeding some to a stray dog one day. He ran off.”

Akio is quick to correct him. “No, Lelouch, he ran off because you tried to pull his tail.”

“Ah, yeah... why’d I do that?”

“You snuck into your brothers liquor cabinet.”

I barely hear the next string of words out of their mouths. Something about peanut butter flavored dog treats. I think it’s time I leave.

Over and over those same three words course through my brain, mocking me with their affront to decency and goodness.

Suzuki and Lezard... Suzuki and Lezard... Lezard and Suzuki

I don’t know what kind of germs Lezard may have, but I can only hope it doesn't affect sexual performance. Or brain functions, I guess. Mostly sex, though.

I feel bad for leaving Hisao to the sharks, but I’m having my own existential crisis here. I peak at the clock. In another eight minutes the bell will ring, and I’ll have to go back to class and look my girlfriend in the eyes knowing that my girlfriend was... together with Lezard. It’s not comforting. Why wouldn't she tell me?

Maybe she didn't think it was worth it?

Go away, rational part of my brain, I’m having my own problems here!

It’s only a problem if you make it one. Suzu’s a pretty girl. You didn't stop to think that maybe she’d had a few boyfriends before you?

Well, it crossed my mind, but...

But nothing. This kind of stuff shouldn't matter to you. What matters now is that you’re with Suzu. If you spend so much time worrying about her past, you won’t enjoy the time you have with her in the present.

Fuckin’ hell, brain, you’re smart.

I’m a brain.

Ah, right. Makes sense.

The distant chime of the clock outside interrupts my inner dialogue. Students begin to file out like salmon escaping the clutches of a rogue bear, if salmon were smart enough to do so. I move along with them, lest I get a reputation for being a weird gaijin who stands in the hallway and talks to himself.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Class was uneventful. Miki, Molly and Suzu continued on with their “nobody talk to Aaron” campaign, which is frustrating, but tolerable.

Hisao still had that “deer about to be pancaked by an eighteen-wheeler” look on his face from earlier today; whether or not that was brought on by some weird brain probing by Lezard, I’m not sure.

All I know is that I just want to return to my dorm and sleep. I’ve been sleeping a lot lately. I like to tell myself it’s because I’ve been using my brain so much that everything else needs to catch up. That’s doubtful.

By the time I make it to the front doors of the dorm, it feels like someone hooked ten pounds weights to my eyelids. Owie.

Shambling with the posture of an extra from The Walking Dead, I only barely notice that fucking kid in the green sweater nearly flying into my forehead.

“They’ve infiltrated! I saw one in your room! Stay right here, I’m getting my billy club!”

And he’s gone.

Why do I keep running into him? We’re not even on the same floor for fucks’ sake. Now in addition to being tired, I’m just plain baffled.

Sweet salvation comes in the form of my bedroom door. I grin wearily as I turn my doorknob. The fact that it’s suddenly unlocked fails to alert me. The only words going through my mind right now are “sleep” and “pillow” and “nutella”... I want nutella.

As soon as I touch down on the mocha-hued sheets, a faint groan emerges from underneath me. Not even the bed can be quiet for me. Luckily, before I can land a good, agitates punch on it, it looks me in the eyes.

Well, not the bed, the girl underneath me. I hurriedly (in a not very hurrying fashion) move to the side to let her breathe. Suzu lets herself up on her elbows gingerly; her hair is frazzled, razzled, and every other -azzled in the book. Guess I wasn’t the only one wanting to get into their bed.

“Thought you weren’t supposed to see me,” I blurt.

“Had to sneak away from Miki and Molly. Took a while. I finally made it here... then I got tired.”

I chuckle despite myself. I know narcolepsy isn’t something to joke about, but my current mental state is impairing my judgement, it seems. Something in my gut tells me that Suzu’s state of mind isn’t just due to tiredness, however.

“Suzu?”

“Hmm?”

“Are you drunk again?”

“... Maybe.”

“I thought you said Miki got rid of all of her wine?”

Her face morphs into a wicked grin that makes the blood rush to my cheeks. She reaches underneath my pillow, her breath hot against my bicep. With a “whoosh” (she actually did say “whoosh”), she pulls out a green-tinted longneck bottle. It’s cursive is so thick I can’t even tell what language it’s in. A quick glimpse at it confirms my suspicions; a bit of the sloshing liquid is missing from the top.

“Not all of it.”

“You snuck wine into my room?” I ask, more impressed at her audaciousness than anything else.

“Yep! Miki gave it to me and told me to throw it away... but she gave me this look that said ‘or just share it with someone and drink it all down, I don’t really care.’”

“You got all that from one look?” I ask in disbelief. I’m met with a bop on the head that leaves me just that much more dazed.

“Don’t question my detective skills! No wine for you!” she pouts.

I shoot back at her with my own sinister smile and reach for the bottle with tiger-like reflexes. Unfortunately, the tiger turns out to be pretty old, and she easily pulls it back out of my reach. Too bad for her I’m a stubborn motherfucker.

I keep time with her movements, leaning and swaying with every inebriated jerk of her limbs. It’s tiring, to be sure, and by the sixth dodged grab we’ve both reached the point of exhaustion. Collapsing onto the bed, I find I’m too worked up to fall asleep now.

I resign to just lay there, taking in the scent of the bedspread and the fruity tinge of Suzu’s hair.

“Suzu...”

“Hmm?”

I’d love to just lay here with her; not give a shit about the rest of the world and lay here with my drunk, narcoleptic girlfriend. But I can’t. Not right now.

“I heard some things today... About you and Lezard.”

Beads of sweat begin to form on her hands and the nape of her neck. Clearly this is something she never wanted to be reminded of. Her eyes clamp shut; I can almost hear the whirring of her brain as she begins to formulate a response to my inquiries.

“Does it really matter?”

Something in her voice puts me a bit on edge. She’s getting defensive, not that I can blame her.

“No, it doesn’t. I just wish you could tell me these things, you know?”

Suzu slithers her tongue along the contours of her jaw, gripping the neck of the wine bottle like a stuffed bear. I pick up the odorous scent of grape and sugar. I’m convinced no one else on Earth has that scent. Even if they did, they couldn’t pull it off like Suzu.

“We did... get together, for a while.”

I’m slow to answer, fearful that answering too quickly may make me seem too pushy.

“So, was it serious?”

“It was a fling,” she insists. “I was lonely. So was he. There was nothing else to it.”

I pull myself up next to her. “Doesn’t sound like Lezard felt the same way.”

“I frankly don’t give a fuck.”

I chuckle inaudibly and close my eyes. “Sounds pretty harsh.”

She weaves her hand in mine. It’s wet and cold, like a frozen meal from a grocery store. “He was a jerk. I also thought he was gay for a bit.”

We both snort, awkwardly and in perfect synch with one another. If that’s not puppy love, I don’t know what is.

“Why did you want to know?” she pries after a moment of silence.

“Curiosity,” I lie.

“Sounds like jealousy to me.”

“I’m not jealous!” I defend weakly.

She looks into my eyes, not buying a single word of what I’m saying. “You’re jealous.”

“... Maybe.”

She chuckles and brings a chilled hand to my cheek, her fingers grazing against my growing stubble. I’m positive that sweater kid stole my shaver.

“Just to get it out of the way: Jin, Lezard.... anyone else?” I ask, savoring her cooling touch against the contours of my face.

Suzu thinks on my question for a minute. “Well, there was that one boy from New Zealand...”

I crack open my right eye to peak at her disapprovingly. “Not even funny.”

“Who said I was joking?” she replies, her playful tone giving away to one of dead seriousness.

My face grows worried for a bit, much to her impish delight. “I was.”

We crack the bottle open, each of us taking our desired sip before passing it on like we’re in some two-man peace pipe ritual. We don’t have the luxury of cups, but neither of us are too concerned about saliva swapping.

It takes a little while, but we finally manage to polish it off, so to speak. I’ve never been much of a binge drinker, so I left Suzu to pick the bones.

“I think I’m drunk now...” she states matter-of-factly.

I nod at her inebriated revelation. “So I see. Is this the first part of our date?”

She answers me with another toothy grin. "We have a date?"

"Nevermind..."

Cagily, she props up into a sitting position, reaching into her skirt pocket for a crumpled, faded wad of paper. Though her expression hasn’t changed since she first started drinking, there’s something about the way her eyes contract that seems off. “Conflicted” is the best way I can describe it.

Out of nowhere, a translucent stream falls from her right eye. Suzu wipes it away hurriedly, just as baffled as I am by her tears.

“Are you ok?” I ask.

No answer. She tosses the paper wad aside with little care, as if it were the cause of her wetworks. As it falls to the floor, I glance sideways at it’s contents. The handwriting is either really messy or really fancy, so it’s hard to make out completely, but I’m able to read the words “sending” and “money.”

“It’s from my family... my other family,” she hesitates, sounding more tired now than ever.

“You didn’t want it to come?”

She shakes her head. “It’s not that, it’s just...”

Suzu tosses aside my bed covers, crawling underneath like an injured snail retreating into the confines of its shell.

“Bad.”

“Bad what?”

“Bad everything,” she whimpers. Her face is flustered, and her lips are quivering as soft tears fall to my pillow.

Eager to give her space, I move over to my mini-fridge, pondering the ever-changing enigma of Suzu's emotions. I check the fridge's contents for anything that may help her relax. No such luck.

“I’m going to go get you something to drink Suzu, I’ll be back.”

“No!” she yelps, startling me a bit. My girlfriend looks at me, her eyes a bleary, worn mess.

“Just stay,” she pleads, like a child begging their parent to scare away the monster in her closet. Still confused, I comply with her request, laying down parallel to her in what may be the most uncomfortable nap I’ve ever taken part in.

As I finally begin to settle in for my sleep, stifled gasps drift up through the thin sheets. They belong to Suzu, obviously, but the look on her face doesn’t suggest she’s in any pain, as I first thought.

In fact, she looks rather euphoric, her face tinted red and her breathing coming in short, high-pitched gasps. Her arm looks like it’s moving upward, which is-

Oh.

Ohhhh.

OH.

My heart shoots up to my throat. Suddenly I wish we hadn’t finished off all the wine. I search desperately along the walls for something to look at. Even as I stare at the Jimi Hendrix poster on my wall, her cries assault my ears with lustful indifference.

Oh damn...

Not right now, sexually driven part of my brain!

Don’t look at me, bro, I’m just a humble servant. You’re the one getting all excited.

I bite my lip, trying to drown out her sound. Even though it’s in my room, I feel like I’m stumbling upon something sacred, something not to be viewed by anyone else. Like watching someone write down their diary. A wet, dripping diary. With their fingers...

Go for it.

No.

It’s no coincidence that she’s doing it here.

She’s drunk!

She’s vulnerable. It’s up to you to comfort her.

Before I can retort myself, A weak hand tugs on my ring and pinky finger. Like a newborn experiencing the senses of the outside world, Suzu’s opened her eyes.

I try to stop it as my hand moves downward, telling myself that it’s wrong, that it’s not the way I want things to go. But I don’t. I’m weak.

The soft cotton feels incredibly moist, as to be expected. It makes me feels hot all over, the euphoria of the moment washing away the guilt I’m trying desperately to remind myself of.

I let her lead me on, rubbing along the warm edges of her clitoris. Her moans are awkward, laborious. The sensation of my hand is an alien one, I’m sure, much different than the familiar, gentle touch of her own.

After awhile her pained expression begins to rescind, and the movements of my fingers move faster. I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t enjoying the hell out of this.

“Suzu,” I breathe out, as if calling out to her in the dark. She gasps in response, nearing the climax of her sexual exercise. In the heat of the moment, I reach over, my lips prepared to meet hers.

She doesn’t hesitate; quite the opposite, in fact. It’s as if her body waited until our lips met to let loose. A rushing, warm liquid cascades across my fingers as we kiss. It makes my brain go fuzzy.

I finally let go, and she collapses, her svelte midsection rising upwards and downwards in a rapid motion. I overlook her liquid on my hands. It’s like a drug, overwhelming my senses and filling my body with a shared euphoria.

I tell myself it’s wrong, but everything about it feels so right. This school, these people, everything feels right, somehow.

I look down one last time.

She’s fast asleep now. I lay down and follow soon after.