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Chapter Text

It was during the end of my fourth year in elementary school that I grew tall enough to look at my mother in the face, only to realise she didn't have one. 

 

For the longest time, I assumed that I had bad eyesight. It scared me. I was sure that I would have to wear thick, heavy glasses for the rest of my life, so I never said anything about it. If my eyes were bad, however, I would have had a hard time doing anything at all. My sight never inconvenienced me. All it did was warp the faces of the students and people around me.

 

 It was only by the time puberty hit that I realised the only ones whose faces were unseeable were all females. As I grew taller and taller, I came to understand that there was no denying it. It was as if I was looking at them from my peripheral vision. I could never focus on her face. Sometimes, if I tried hard enough, I could see the bridge of her nose, the dip of her lips or the flash of a birthmark, but never the eyes, and never the full face. My mother was faceless, unimportant, and unnoticeable. Every birthday, every competition I participated in, every performance I did, none of it was worth anything to me anymore. Why would it be when I couldn't see the joy on my mother's face? 

 

I was either mentally ill, or I was the only one who knew there was no girl with a defined face in this world. 

 

I did my research. Throughout my early high school days, I went to the library as often as I could and scoured every nook and cranny of the internet, trying to find any possible explanation for my illness. Prosopagnosia came close, but I could see and recognise my brother's, my father's, and my friends' faces easily. It was the women's faces that I couldn't see clearly. I didn't speak a word of it to anybody. Forget about drawing unnecessary attention to myself, I would end up being dragged away and locked in a rubber room for the rest of my godawful life.

 

It wasn't until my third year of high school that I dared to probe about this situation of mine. What if this is all a normal thing that I just never knew about? What if I'm not as crazy as I think I am? And even if I did end up being proved crazy, what if I wasn't the only one? 

 

The urge to find out had been killing me, and I just couldn't take it anymore. Not knowing what this condition of mine was had been slowly hollowing out my senses. I couldn't sleep or eat properly. No matter how much I stared, my mother's face would remain out of focus. It gave me a headache and an odd feeling of misery and loss.

 

"Hey, Arakaki..." I began, one sunny afternoon, while the two of us were sitting on the bleachers, "Do you like any girl in our class?"

 

The sun was shining straight into my eyes as I looked up at the sky, trying not to show the terror I was feeling on my face. Despite the heat, I felt a bead of cold sweat drag down my neck. 

 

"Hah? What are you asking me that for?"Arakaki asked, sounding puzzled, "Do you have a crush or something?"

 

"No. I was asking to see if... What do you think about, uh... Yoshinaga-san? What do you think about her face?"

 

"Man, who are you even talking about?" Arakaki's eyebrows drew together in confusion. I looked at him intently, hoping that this was just a trick he was trying to play on me. "Yoshinaga... The girl who left you the bag of chocolate in your locker on White Day?" I provided, feeling bewildered.

 

"Oh. Her. Yeah, I guess her face is fine. She's just not very memorable, though, is she? Seriously, though, do you, like, have a crush on her?"

 

"Have you ever even looked at her face?" I asked, trying not to let my eyes widen in shock.

 

"No? Why would I? Where are you even going with this?"

 

"..."

 

I screwed my mouth shut and shook my head. Arakaki's eyes wandered away from me and then landed on the pitcher. It was Hiroshi, swinging his arm once or twice, scanning the field, the hitter's posture, and then the catcher. He was incredibly focused. I looked back at Arakaki, who was still staring like he was entranced. 

 

Hiroshi got ready to throw. Both arms high, one leg lifted, and then his body tilted, turned, as he threw. It was a beautiful curve ball, but Arakaki was more focused on the arm that threw it. Something told me he was more interested in Hiroshi's muscles than he was in the game. Before I knew it, cheers were echoing around me. Our team won. 

 

And Arakaki was the happiest one among us. 

 

"Isn't Hiroshi just amazing? I swear, I felt goosebumps just looking at him. I knew we were going to win before he threw the ball," Arakaki gushed.

 

'... You weren’t looking at the ball at all!', I almost cried out.

 

 In that moment, everything clicked.

 

Arakaki doesn't care about Yoshinaga at all. Or any girl in our school.

 

He only cares about Hiroshi.

 

And wasn't that the most obvious thing I had ever thought of? All those times Arakaki would come to me to talk about Hiroshi and his oh-so-great personality. Every time I pointed out that he and Hiroshi were together all the time, all of it suddenly made sense. This was one of those "childhood friends" tropes in Shoujo manga, where the Male Lead was cold with everyone except for their sweetheart, the awkward and average MC. The only difference? The MC and Male Lead were both guys.

 

'...Am I seeing this right? There's no way... Arakaki and Hiroshi, together...'

 

But the more I thought about it, the easier it became to believe. It was cringy and embarrassing to think of my two friends as the most romantic and perfect shoujo couple, but it was the only possible explanation. Hiroshi only ever talked freely with Arakaki. The way he admired Hiroshi's every feat, be it big or small. Hiroshi was always annoyed when others touched him, but he would initiate contact with Arakaki himself when he thought no one was looking. These things should have given it away a long time ago.

 

I was always looking, of course. I was the only one who had figured out the oddities of this world, after all. No one had keener eyes than I did.

 

And all that observation pointed to only one conclusion.

 

"Arakaki." I exhaled to expel the tension in my lungs, "You like Hiroshi," I whispered.

 

It took him some time to process what I had just said. His face scrunched up, and he sprang up from his spot beside me. He sputtered, trying to find the words he needed to blow up at me in clear denial. 

 

"WHAT?! NO, I DON'T!! DO YOU KNOW WHAT YOU’RE SAYING?! I'M A GUY!! I LIKE GIRLS!!"

 

'...Do you, now?'

 

His face and ears were a screaming shade of red. He wasn't aware of his feelings yet, it seemed. Maybe I shouldn't have said anything at all. He looked like I had just suggested something extremely lewd and inappropriate, which I hadn’t. A man liking another man is really not that big of a deal, but what do I know? I've never had feelings for someone before.

 

 

"Sorry. It was stupid. Of course, you’re right. I don't know what I was thinking," I muttered bluntly, trying not to appear disbelieving.

 

"You don't look sorry at all!" Arakaki hissed loudly. Students turned to look at us, and suddenly Arakaki was much more self-conscious. He sat back down, but he was still staring at me. I gave him a Just a joke, man shrug.

 

"What's up? What are you guys talking about?" Said a voice from behind me.

 

"Y-Y-Yuusei, hi!! Oh, um, nothing! We were just discussing about... uh," Arakaki stuttered out, eyes wide and face redder than I thought was possible. ' Yuusei? Right, isn't that Hiroshi's first name?'

 

I turned to look behind me, and there he was, the Male Lead in all his glory. The sun gleamed off his sweaty face, and his hair was slicked back to show off a part of his forehead. But his gaze was cold, and it was fixed on me. 

 

'Is he jealous? Or maybe he feels as if I'm threatening Arakaki?'

 

Either way, it was scary. Hiroshi was usually friendly with me, if a bit curt, but he was a terrible person to have enmity with.

 

"We were just chatting about the game. That curveball was great, but you normally finish the game sooner. I told Arakaki that you're not in your best form these days, and he got really upset on your behalf," I lied easily. Hiroshi squinted at me just a bit, but then he turned to Arakaki. I couldn't help but feel a bit relieved. All those years of lying to sneak out of the house had turned me into a seasoned actor.

 

"But I apologised," I gave Arakaki a look, "Didn't I?"

 

Arakaki looked at me as if he wasn’t sure if he should play along. He paused, slow to react as usual, then nodded tentatively. Idiot. I was offering him an automatic way out of this situation, and he was hesitating? Ungrateful.

 

'Do you not realise that admitting what we were talking about exposes the fact that your not-so-platonic feelings for Hiroshi had been questioned? Do you want him to find out?'

 

"Good game, Hiroshi," I said, "You are always the star of the show, aren't you?"

 

"Thanks," Hiroshi grunted. Rude, much?

 

"Kouta." Hiroshi called brusquely. 

 

Arakaki fidgeted uncertainly, "Yeah?"

 

"Let's go home after this. Mom said we would go out for sushi to celebrate if we won."

 

"Huh? But-" I nudged his leg before he could say no. 

 

"Yup, let's just go." He agreed, eyes still wide with surprise and ears still red with embarrassment. Hiroshi led him away, but as they went, Arakaki turned back to meet my eye. I didn't bother looking back. Instead, I bent down to tie my shoe laces to pretend I wasn't paying attention. 

 

My two classmates had feelings for each other.

 

What were my thoughts about it? Nothing much. One gay couple doesn't mean the end of the world, now does it? I just hoped that they sorted out whatever they had going on between them.

 

And of course, one gay couple doesn't mean the end of the world. Why? Because this world was only meant for gay couples, but I didn't know yet. I was going to find out soon enough, though.

 

 

Chapter Text

After that day, I lost my peace. Everywhere I went, I saw it. Boys stealing glances at other boys, totally neglecting the blurry-faced girls and girls talking less about dating boys and more about pairing them together. Suddenly, everything was laid out in front of me like a shapeless, imageless puzzle, which I had thought was impossible to solve but had somehow fallen into place out of coincidence. I knew there was a bigger picture to this. Only problem? I had no idea what I was looking at.

 

Had it always been like this? A part of me couldn't help but suspect that things had only now started "changing" around me, that maybe it was all in my head. I was starting to doubt myself, because, if you recall, I used to believe I was either mentally unsound or suffering loss in eyesight. I had been terrorising myself with thoughts of psych wards and being universally known for having the rarest and oddest medical condition: seeing girls without their faces. No, this was totally different from what I had expected. This was far too much for me to stomach.

 

 

This was much worse.

 

 

Because it seemed that other men couldn't see the faces of women, either, but they just didn't realise it. 

 

Not one boy that I'd met had said that he found a girl pretty. I know because I'd gone asking around my classroom. If they had a crush on a girl, if they thought this or that girl was attractive, if they had ever been in a relationship. Some boys did give me responses that should have reassured me, but their claims weren't substantial at all. I can always tell when someone is lying or unsure about the of their answers almost instinctually, so I know I couldn't have been wrong. 

 

And this wasn't all either. Forget about my classmates, I could see signs outside of school too. In the street, on the train, in my own neighbourhood, everywhere. Women were hardly ever the subject of attention. That is, unless they were included in the context of the men around them. I found this horrifying. Were the women no more than figures in the background? Was there no purpose for a woman other than being unidentified silhouettes while the men took all the spotlight?

 

How could I have gone sixteen years without realising that my mother was basically invisible? How ignorant have I been? Was it always meant to be this way? Was she never supposed to be anything more than a birth giver to me? Is this why I know so little about her? Was there ever a moment I cared for her? What about Ayato? What about my father?

 

 

Does my father really even love her?

 

 

This was what bothered me most. Every morning, my mother would call me downstairs, and I would take my seat to have breakfast, only to lose my hunger because my mother kept moving those lips I couldn't see. How do I even answer her when all I can think of is her insignificance? Sometimes, she would get irritated at me because I wasn't being responsive enough, and I would wonder if there is a face behind the blur at all. If there is any real heat to her hypothetical expressions, or if that, too, exists only to make my existence more prominent.

 

Then I would hear my father bustling about the house, calling for her to find his keys or hand him his socks, and I would feel pinpricks of fear at the possibility that this might be all she is to him: someone who will help out in the house and do the chores if he asks her to. Did he even think of her as his spouse? I wished I would just stop wondering at all. These thoughts were nothing but harmful, and they were starting to hurt.

 

It got to the point that even Ayato noticed. In the morning, at breakfast, and in the evening at supper, he would stare at me suspiciously, and he wouldn't even be discreet about it. I ignored him, like I always do. He has this habit where he tries his best to hint at things so that I might react a certain way, and when I don't, he gets annoyed. This time was just like the others. It took just three days for him to crack.

 

 

"You’re acting weird," He accused, finally, when I was doing the dishes, and he was clearing the table that night.

 

"I'm not," I lied.

 

"Yes, you are! Mom is worried, you know? You've always been late, but nowadays, you're barely ever home! And when you are, you're always holed up in your room! Dad says it's just your teens, but I've never seen you act like this!" He exclaimed, in typical Ayato style. 

 

I sigh, trying not to show how dreadful I knew this conversation was going to be. "I am not acting weird. I'm just busy. I have a lot of work to do at school and a hell lotta homework to get through, with very little time on my hands," I say, feigning tiredness.

 

Ayato faltered, trying to catch up to my smoothly delivered excuses, and just when I thought he'd bought it, he opened his mouth yet again.

 

"What is taking so much of your time? You just joined school two months ago, didn't you? I thought they take it easy the first few months?"

 

It takes me all my will not to groan, "Ayato, high school is much different than middle school. You're way too young to know the struggles of a high school student. You're still just an immature middle schooler." 

 

'There. Most generic older sibling line ever. You'll never get past this line of defence.'

 

"I'm not immature! You're just trying to deflect again, aren't you?! You’re lying again! You're always lying! I can never tell with you!" He sneered, suddenly getting aggressive. Perhaps that 'older sibling line' wasn't as foolproof as I had thought. 'He really is getting older. He would have gotten distracted by the insult before,' I think.

 

"I don't know what it is you want to hear from me," I said, looking him in the eye, "But I've already given you the truth."

 

He fell silent, and I held his gaze. My brother is a colourful one. He is ever moving and everchanging, fickle in some aspects. He's easy to manipulate and easier to read, and he always says what he wants to, so he's dense and even crude sometimes.

 

But that night, I saw something heated and immovable in his eyes, so utterly persistent, like he was trying to pin me down with just his gaze and hold me there, until I admitted to something.

 

'Stupid boy,' I think, 'Stop trying to get answers you won't possibly be able to stomach.'

 

And yet, I felt a surge of inexplicable emotions. I couldn't tell what Ayato was thinking, something that had never happened before. I felt like spilling everything, I felt like telling him right then and there that I was crazy, or going crazy, or whatever the hell was going on, but I didn't. I looked him in the eye and kept on pretending.

 

I saw why he called me a liar. It takes a lot to lie to eyes like those. 

 

I heard a faint call from inside.

 

"Ayato, it's late. Stop bothering your brother," our mother orders, her tone scolding. I feel relief flow through me, but I don't dare show it while he's still here. Ayato scowls, glaring at me still, but wipes the water from his hands on his front and turns to leave. 

 

"This isn't over," He warned, and I knew him well enough to know it was a promise. He has always had great determination, and he wouldn't stop until he is satisfied.

 

 

 

The next day, I went to school. 

 

I tried my best to stay away from people's sights as much as possible. It hadn't been a good night for me, and I didn't want to snap at anyone and cause trouble. All I wanted was to stay hidden away somewhere in some corner and forget the world's true nature, if only for a while. 

 

This purpose of mine took me directly towards the library during lunchtime. I sneaked away while my friends weren't looking because I wasn't very noticeable anyway, and that's where I spent the next ten minutes, browsing through boring titles to keep my mind off my disagreement with Ayato.

 

What happened next was the moment my life's biggest butterfly effect took place.

 

"Cherry Blossoms In Spring," it read. 

 

'Romance? In the Self Help section?'

 

I fished that thin little manga out from between two ginormous books about building self-image and cultivating good habits, comically cheerful, bright, and glossy against the boring titles and grey-coloured hardcovers. 

 

One look at the cover page gave me such awful whiplash that I jolted away and dropped the book.

 

'WHAT THE HELL?! AN EROTICA??!! IN A SCHOOL LIBRARY??!! WHO EVEN PUT THIS HERE??!!'

 

I looked around, hoping no one saw me. All the other kids were still busy having their lunch break, so I was safe.

 

 A feeling of doom overtook my heart as I stared at the book, which had fallen onto the floor. It was a manga. A very lewd manga. The characters were illustrated on the cover, doing something very questionable. It was bad enough that it sticks out like a sore thumb in this section, it just had to have such a flashy and detailed art style. If someone walked by right now, they would think I was hiding away to read this book. 

 

But there was only one person here, the librarian sitting at her desk, eating lunch as she worked on her desktop. And she was so far away from me, too. I looked back at the book, then weighed the possibilities. Finally, I decided to pick it up. It looked like this romance manga was based in fantasy, seeing the characters' outfits and long, decorated hair. 

 

'Huh, brown hair and golden eyes? Looks like Arakaki... Isn't the female lead supposed to be petite and elegant like a true damsel?'

 

I flipped a couple pages, skipping the smut my poor eyes were attacked with. Stupidly enough, I missed the most important part. It took me a while, but I finally got there.

 

'Oh... This is... That's a guy?? What??', I look closely at the printed drawing.

 

I flipped back to the smut just to confirm, and yes, it really was a guy. At the front cover, top right corner, there was a glossy sticker printed, reading "BL" in capital letters. Under it was the full-form: Boy's Love.

 

'Guess you learn something new every day...?' I try to reason. I have always tried to keep an open mind, but it was hard not to judge the author in that moment. 'What special kind of horny pill did they take when they inked the art?'

 

'This is such bad writing! And it's the very first volume! There's seriously no relevant plot in this! How do people tolerate something so pointless?'

 

I kept flipping through, and suddenly, the Arakaki-looking guy was having a flashback of the past. It was such a bad timing, and the plot hadn’t even started yet, all the characters had done till now was bang, and he had decided now was a good time to have a flashback?

 

In the flashback, the guy wasn't alone. There was another person with him. Both of them were younger, in their teens, and something about it struck me as really odd. The new boy was extremely plain and ordinary looking, wearing muted colours and simple hair. They were talking about something I didn't bother to read, because on the next page, the new boy said three words:

 

"You like him."

 

And the MC started stuttering and stammering through a response. This was such overwhelmingly lazy writing that I felt embarrassed on the writer's behalf. 'Yeah, thank you for clarifying, Unnamed Character, it hadn't been obvious enough to me when I saw them aggressively making out on the very first page.'

 

I kept flipping through, not bothering to read what came next, this time in search of the unnamed character. There was another flashback, and yet more smut, but no trace of that new boy. Instead, there were a couple more or so plain characters, who weren't named either. I got an uneasy feeling as I turned each unsatisfactory page faster, until I reached the end page.

 

'That's it? That's the whole manga? Why would you put an unimportant background character in a flashback and never mention him again? Couldn't you have just used a side character?'

 

I turned back to the first flashback, and I stared at the boy's face, completely ordinary, even ugly, with two small, sparsely higlighted dots for eyes and a placid expression. His only job in the whole volume was to make the MC realise his feelings for the ML, and that was it. I felt a terrible sense of familiarity with him, and I didn't like how it churned my thoughts. Mob Characters, huh? So they were meant to drive the plot forward from behind the scenes with very little dialogues and no mention?

 

Not even a name?

 

I felt a sort of bitterness I had never felt before, and I didn't understand why. It was just some character in an erotic BL manga, so I had no business feeling this annoyed. Why, then, did the Mob Character's image leave a twist in my gut? 

 

This was enough. I closed the book and shoved it back where I found it, wiping away that frown from my face and exited the library. The break was over, so I had to hurry back. I started speedwalking to my classroom, and the short time I had left wasn't the reason. A weird, ugly feeling rose up my stomach like acid, and I swallowed it down. I entered the class unnoticed, like I somehow always do, then sat down at my desk.

 

"Hey, Mobu, when did you leave? I didn't even see you go! Where did you disappear to?"

 

I froze, the feeling reaching my spine with a zap. 

 

'Mobu?'

 

I realised that it was dejâ-vu. 

 

The year before, when Arakaki had yet to move houses, the two of us would walk home together. I remember nodding along absent-mindedly to his unending chatter. On a rare occasion, the conversation had turned to me, or my name.

 

"You know, you have a very long name," he'd said, "I wanna give you a nickname!"

 

I had, like always, nodded my head up and down without truly listening. I was too busy petting a stray kitten that had found it's way between my feet.

 

"Hmm, what about 'Mobu'? It really fits your personality!"

 

"Yeah, you're right," I'd said, least interested in what he had to say, busy entertaining the tiny ball of fur.

 

"I know, right? I knew you would like it!"

 

And we had continued on our way. He never explained it to me, and I never questioned it. Somehow, everyone else had caught this habit of Arakaki's as well, and now people called me 'Mobu', like I had been named that on the day of my birth. 

 

"Say... Arakaki," I fumbled, fingers steepled as I tried to stop them from trembling under the desk, "Why do you call me that?"

 

"Call you what?" Arakaki blinked, tone questioning.

 

"Why did you keep 'Mob' as my nickname?" I asked, trying not to let my agitation show.

 

"Oh! This is embarrassing..." He scratched his neck, "I was really into RPG games back then, and you gave me really strong NPC vibes, you know?"

 

I paused to stare at him, "...What?"

 

Arakaki looked away awkwardly, "I mean, you talk very little, and you had this habit that you would listen to everything I said and you would just hum, nod or say, 'yeah', 'okay', 'really?' and stuff like that, so..."

 

"So...?"

 

Arakaki's face got redder, "Well, I felt like I was talking to a Mob Character in a game, so I..." He shrugged, trying to seem casual about it, but I could see how on edge he was. He wasn't sure how I would react. Would I be offended? Or would I brush it off?

 

But I was in my own mind, falling down a spiral of non-stop thoughts that ran so fast I could barely process them, all revolving the two words he had uttered. The two words that had been stuck in my head since I got back from the library.

 

'Mob Character.'

 

'Is that what I am?'

 

It should have sounded stupid. It should have sounded improbable, psychotic, even. But it made perfect sense. Why? I had the proof right in front of me.

 

Because Hiroshi and Arakaki were back at it again. Hiroshi, who had been sitting at his desk, right beside Arakaki, had automatically listened in on the conversation, and he had let out a huff of laughter. Arakaki was suddenly fuming from the ears, mouth scrunched into a pout, looking at Hiroshi angrily. Hiroshi, who found his reaction even more hilarious, continued chuckling, while Arakaki tried to stop him. Arakaki playfully punched Hiroshi's arm, demanding that he stop laughing at his expense, but Hiroshi just grabbed his wrist and laughed harder. 

 

 

Arakaki's wrist turned red, and so did his face and ears. 

 

 

It seemed almost identical to one of the romantic scenes I had skipped in that BL manga at the library. Now I saw the two of them in a very different light. Arakaki looked scarily similar to the MC of that manga. Hiroshi, on the other hand, was a different case. 

 

As he laughed, I saw lotuses bloom in the background.

 

No, this is not an exaggeration. I saw lotus blooms, pink and beautiful and divine, appear behind him, along with bright, shiny rays of light. 

 

The shock made me feel light-headed. I felt my eyes sting, and I realised I hadn't blinked in a while. Arakaki didn't notice my trembling hands or my hanging jaw, and neither did Hiroshi.

 

Something had happened that day after the two of them had gone for sushi. Did Arakaki realise his feelings already? Are they dating? How are they suddenly so sticky with each other?

 

Did this happen because of what I said to Arakaki that day? 

 

I had been completely forgotten. I had been used to complete an important plot point, and now I wasn't even being shown in the frame. In fact, my current situation was actively being exploited to showcase a romantic scene.

 

Even as I slipped away silently, shoulders quivering with every step, Arakaki didn't look back. Hiroshi was too busy staring at Arakaki's flushed face with a hazy expression on. I looked around the classroom, locating all the people I had made conversation with, and nobody seemed to notice me. Break was over. Surely, they would wonder where I was going when class was about to begin? The class monitor was right there on the first bench, he would definitely scold me for moving out of my seat when the teacher could enter any moment.

 

They didn't. And that's how I knew. 

 

I am a Mob Character.

 

Worse, I'm a Mob Character in a BL manga world.  

 

Chapter Text

Two months and twenty-five days since I realised I was a Mob Character in the world of BL.

After I had not-so-sneakily left my classroom that day without being noticed, I spent the remaining couple of hours in the washroom. You would think two hours stuck in a small washroom stall would be hard, but apparently, trying not to hyperventilate takes your mind off the time.

I felt stupid, naive, and most of all, invisible. The fact that I had skipped two classes of the day totally unnoticed was not reassuring in the least. By the time I had gathered enough courage to leave the washroom, all the classrooms were already deserted, except for a few students who were on cleaning duty. I went home.

Sleep was terrible. When I woke up, I looked and felt so physically drained my mother started fussing over me the second I came downstairs for breakfast. The permanent blur on her face made me cringe.

"What happened to you?! Are you alright?! You’re not sick, are you?! You look so pale-!" But all I could focus on was the swirl blending her features together the more closely I inspected her. Her voice became white noise, and I found my sight chasing the mole over her lip, the brown of her eye, the white of her teeth that kept fading in and out of existence. Looking too long at it sent a dull ache behind my eyes. I was starting to feel nauseous.

Her hand reached forward, knuckles facing my forehead, maybe to check my temperature. It took me by surprise, and I flinched back. She hesitated and slowly withdrew, with a slump in her shoulders. I did not understand at first; I couldn't see her expressions, but it occurred to me that she might be disappointed or hurt. Guilt climbed up my stomach and ate at my heart, but a small, disgusting part of my mind whispered, 'Why do you care? She practically doesn't exist. You don't, either.'

"Sorry," I muttered, unsure if it was for drawing back from her touch or for thinking something so calloused.

"Do you wish to stay home today?" She said, and it was tempting. It is hard to look at people when you know they're looking right past you. I was unsure if I could handle it.

"I'll make you some zosui, just like when you and Ayato were little. Do you remember that? You used to love it-"

 

It was a pain to look at her.

 

"-Actually, I feel fine, mom. I'll go to school today, we have a test this afternoon." I interrupted her, trying to smile even as my temples felt like they were being hammered at from the inside.

"She told you to stay home, didn't she? I'm sure the teacher will understand." Ayato spoke up from the dining table, squinting at me in scrutiny.

"I don't have a fever. I can go to school. I don't want to fall behind in my studies." I stated, aiming the last sentence at my mother. I avoided looking at her.

 

And that was the end of that.

 

I didn't bother to talk to anybody at school, and I realised that as long as I wasn't near Arakaki and Hiroshi, no one would talk to me either. Not even the teacher.

 

Speaking of the teacher, he called me 'Mobu' when he was taking attendance. The teacher, who had the attendance register with my full name in it.

'What?'

 

And that was when I started thinking about it. My name. When was the last time someone called me by my name?

 

 

I could have thought, 'I'm being delusional, no way does it seem strange that my name is incomprehensible, I'm seeing things,' but I didn't. I had been telling these very words to myself for years, but after I saw Hiroshi's "Lotus-Halo" the day before, I knew not to doubt my eyes. They were the reason I knew what I knew, and as much as I hated the truth, I found it comforting that it was the truth I was seeing, not the sad little illusion everyone else was so easily fooled by.

Which was the reason I tried not to panic even as it slowly sank in just how much more insignificant my standing in the world than I thought it was earlier.

I drew in a deep breath. I opened the notebook and picked up my pen. I started by writing every character of my name separately. I whispered it to myself each syllable at a time. It sounded fine.

Then I said it all at once.

What came out of my mouth was definitely Japanese, even sounding like Japanese, but it still did not register as a name, even to myself. I felt my eyes prick, and I clamped them shut. I exhaled.

 

I tried again.

 

Nothing.

 

For your reference, sometimes, when you're too far away to hear someone talking, the words don't make sense even though they sound familiar; that's what it was like. Or, a better example would be, when you hear dialogues of your own language in a movie without subtitles and don't listen to them with full concentration. That's what my name sounds like.

I turned around to face the guy sitting behind me.

"Hey, Matsuno," I called him urgently.

"Yeah, what- oh my god, are you OK? You look like you dried up in the sun!" Matsuno cried, exageratedly. No, I did not look that bad. I was just a bit queasy, nothing too worrisome. The dumb look on his face was starting to get on my nerves.

"I'm alright, now, say my name," I demanded.

Matsuno stared at me, confused.

"Huh? Why?"

"Just say it!"

"Mobu?"

I wanted to scream at him. Maybe my frustration showed on my face because Matsuno was visibly weirded out.

I threw my notebook on his desk and pointed at my name.

"Read this," I ordered, not bothering with courtesy. It's not like I was going to be any less unpopular.

Matsuno squinted. He looked back up at me, his face still confused.

"Man, Arakaki's right! Your name really is so hard to say!"

"Can't you even read?! What are you, five?! It's such a simple, ordinary name!" I burst.

It really was. My name really wasn't that hard to say. In theory, it wasn't supposed to trip people so much with how ordinary it was.

I flipped the front page quickly, and this time, I pointed to all the individual characters I had written down.

"Now read it. Altogether."

"OK, fine, chill, man! I'll do it," Matsuno grumbled.

What followed next was the worst string of vocal sounds I had ever heard.

It sounded like a child's babbling. It was the same as when I said my own name, except it was so much worse hearing it from someone else. Maybe I found it so terrible because it made it feel all the more real.

As Matsuno said it, I had paid special attention to his mouth and his voice. His lips made all the correct movements, and I had a feeling that if I strained my ear and asked him to say it slower, I would have understood each letter he uttered, but it sounded like nothing to me.

I felt like banging my head against the wall. Repeatedly.

"Hey, Mobu, are you sure you're alright? You don't look too good, and you're acting really weird."

I stared at him. 'NO, I'M NOT ALRIGHT, IDIOT!! GO EAT SHIT AND DIE!!'

 

But Matsuno did not deserve my anger, so I apologised for the second time that day and shook my head. I turned back and laid my forehead on the desk, letting my eyes close. I was so, so tired. I wanted to leave this place so badly, but where would I even go? Home? I wouldn't be able to bear that either.

I spent the rest of the day lost in my own mind. Once or twice, I would find myself observing a couple of boys acting a bit too chummy, and I would start noticing things. Subtle touches, microexpressions, not-so-brief glances, a tiny yellow glow every time hands touched, and everything would fade into the background. Very much like shoujo manga. Each time this happened, I'd cringe.

The more I looked, the harder it became to unsee. Three or four guys in my class, all good-looking and athletic, had similar halos to Hiroshi's. Every time they entered the classroom, their silhouettes would light up, and flowers would float behind them. Each time, my headache got worse. By the time school came to an end, I had seen five different types of flowers.

It was so odd, I had gone from seeing too little to too much in the span of a few hours. Hydrangeas, peonies, lillies, and maybe tulips? I had never noticed flowers this much until they started appearing in the air. I was starting to dislike flowers.

When I went back home, my mom was watching her one of her usual sappy romance dramas. Usually, she would welcome me home without even turning away from the T.V. screen, but that day, she switched it off and came outside to greet me.

 

"I'm home..." I called, however quiet.

"Welcome home, are you tired?" She asked, coming out to the front door. I shook my head, sensing the tension in her voice.

"Did you have a good day at school? Are you feeling any better?"

 

I nodded.

 

"You still look pale, I knew it, you should have just stayed home. Come here, I've made you the zosui I promised you-"

I didn’t think I would regret coming home this soon.

Because now all I could think about was the fact that my mother was the one who named me, yet I don't remember the last time she called me by it. Not once before had my name felt weird to hear, and I hadn't even noticed I had started responding to that stupid nickname 'Mobu' at school until I found that blasted erotic manga. What does my mother call me? What does my father call me? I couldn't remember. Just how long had I gone without even realising I was never mentioned by anybody?

I wanted to ask my mother to say my name just like I asked Matsuno to, but every time I opened my mouth to say so, the ugly feeling from before kept constricting my throat. It was fear. If my own mother couldn't say my name, perhaps it was better if I never found out about it. Only an idiot would go fishing for hurt.

 

"Mom," I started, as I sat at the dining table, "Can you say my name?"

 

There. It's me, I'm the idiot.

 

But I could have sworn the blur on my mother's face shifted, and even though I knew what to expect, my gut churned with anticipation and false hope.

My mother brought me my bowl of zosui and placed it in front of me. I stared down at it, then I looked at her.

"What kind of question is that?" She asked.

One of my earliest memories as a child were back when Ayato was five and I was seven. An old lady my mother had introduced as a distant great aunt on her family's side had come to visit, and she had commented on how much Ayato looks like her.

I imagined his creased eyebrows on her forehead.

"Never mind." I muttered, my voice sounding weak to my own ears. I wasn't brave enough for an answer after all.

"Thank you for the food."

The rest of my time at the dinner table was spent wordlessly nodding along to every question my mother asked me. She asked me about my day, if I felt okay going to school, told me that I should've called her from the nurse's office if I wasn't well and said she would have come to pick me up.

I refused a second serving and got up as soon as my bowl was finished.

"Is Ayato home yet?" I asked her, placing the bowl on the counter.

"No, he told me his friends need help with some group project or something."

I nodded absent-mindedly. 'Good. I can't deal with him today.'

"My head hurts. I'll go take a nap. Please don't let him bother me."

My mother nodded, awkwardly silent. I felt cruel for treating her this way. She had been hoping for a conversation, a real one, this time, but I just couldn't find it in myself to look at her.

Just as I was about to turn back, she called my name, or well, whatever censored babbling it was.

I thought I would've cried, but I didn't. It was an odd feeling. I knew she wouldn't be able to say it either, yet the disappointment settled heavily in my chest, weighing down my shoulders. I felt more defeated than sorrowful. Maybe because I had known all along that there was no way she was any different than Matsuno, or any of my classmates and teachers. She was just a figure in the crowd in the world of BL, after all.

"Yeah?" I questioned, my eyes fixed intently on her apron. It had cats on it. 

 

I was afraid to look up.

 

"Sleep well."

 

She sounded as if she was feeling the same hopelessness I was feeling.

I nodded, and then I left.

Sleep didn't come for a while. A crack between the curtains over my window revealed that evening was near. A crow squawked as he hopped onto a streetlight. I stared at it for what seemed like a good four minutes before it flew off, and I finally tried to close my eyes and sleep again.

By the time I woke up, the streetlight was glowing yellow, and the background behind was dark.

My throat was parched. I got off my bed and tested my way, walking with tiny steps so that I wouldn't bump into something. I opened my door, and all the lights were turned off, except for the one in the kitchen. Either Ayato forgot to turn it off after washing the dishes, or my father had collapsed tiredly on the counter after entertaining and drinking with some clients of his again. I went down the staircase hoping it was the former. It wasn't.

My father was a lightweight, and he hated the pressure that came with having to drink after work, but he was my father, so obviously he was ordinary, and like every ordinary man, he was unable to do anything about it.

He was collapsed over the table, drooling over it, his jaw hanging open. He had the same purple hair as I did, the same, ordinary face and small, dull eyes. Purple hair should be odd, but in the world of BL manga, as I learned quickly, hair can be of any colour the author desires. Only thing is, it doesn't make any sense that he and I have purple hair when we're both Mob Characters.

(Or, at least, I'm sure of it, but every night I pray he is also a Mob Character, I wouldn't be able to live in the same house as him if it turned out to be something like a gay version of 'the other woman' trope.)

Still, both of us were pretty uninteresting to look at, even with the purple hair. His were cropped short in typical average corporate worker style, as I predicted mine would be too, soon enough.

I nudged his shoulder, but he didn't stir. I shook his shoulder once more, harder this time, and he flinched back, startled. He rubbed his bleary eyes and stared at me.

"Ayato...?"

'Seriously? I look nothing like that annoying brat.'

"It’s me." I muttered, my voice feeling cracked and rough with sleep.

He stared at me dumbly, still very much drunk.

I filled two glasses of water for the two of us, sliding one across the table to him.

"You were out drinking with clients again?" I asked, already aware of the answer.

He looked at me guiltily, as best as he could with what little facial mobility he had. I shrugged.

"I'm sorry, don't tell your mother." He begged. At times like these, it was hard to believe he was my father with how cowardly he seemed. He had always treated me well, though, so I don't complain.

We stayed silent for a few moments as I gulped down my water, and he splashed some all over his neck clumsily.

I put our glasses down beside the sink.

"You know," he mumbled, peering at me with his head leaning on his forearm, "You’re not supposed to see me like this. You’re my child."

I give him a look.

"Yes, yes, I know, you're mature enough for nearly everything now, but I'm still the adult."

He was in one of his 'talkative drunk' moods. Those were the especially annoying ones.

"I just wish..." He trailed off, "You were so lively and demanding as a kid. You used to chase after any feline you found, and we would have to chase after you. Ayato used to get even more fed up with you than we did because he was always trying to follow you around, but you were always so fast. So nimble."

'You want me to be the way I was before, huh? When I didn't know so much?' I thought, feeling a twisted sense of irritation, but I was just angry with myself for breaking through the illusion everyone else was enchanted by.

"You’re a smart kid, you're obedient, polite, and you never argue with us, I have no complaints about you, but... It's a pity, you never ask for anything, you never fuss over anything anymore, it's as if you're already an adult..." He whispered, his voice sounding thick, "But you're barely seventeen! I hope I didn't do something wrong to make you this way. If I did, I'm so, so sorry, my son."

 

I stared at him, mouth agape.

 

He was being far too honest for me to handle.

 

"No more alcohol for you, ever. I'm telling mom." I replied. It seemed to do the trick.

 

His eyes went wide, the teariness disappeared, and he looked a lot more awake.

"No! Uhh, I mean, why don't you keep this secret, yeah? Between you and me? I'll get you anything you want! You want to go to the cat café that opened near the station? I have discount coupons for it if you'd like?"

 

I sighed.

 

"Do you need me to help you up the stairs?"

"So that's a yes, right?"

"Yes. Now get up."

He stumbled out of his seat, and I caught his shoulder. The two of us awkwardly waddled upstairs, with him swaying left and right as I tried to keep him walking.

When we reached to the top, I stared at the room down the hall. Mother must be asleep, it would be stupid if he slept beside her tonight, she'll know he was drunk by the smell. Ayato's room was not an option at all, so that left my room.

'Fine, dad, since you promised me the cat café coupons.'

I ushered him to the washroom to brush his teeth, then sat him down on my bed and got him his clothes.

"You're so tall now." He muttered dejectedly, his voice weak.

"I'm only average in height." I replied.

He stared up at me. "You’re still taller than I am, now. I can hardly believe it."

I stayed silent, instead choosing to pick out a spare blanket and pillow.

"...Get some sleep, dad, you've been working too hard."

"Hey, wait..."

 

I looked back at him.

 

"You're so responsible. Mom is proud of you. Just... talk to her, okay? She worries for you." He said, sounding much more sober than before. I nodded, turning my back to him, hoping that he doesn't remember my guilty grimace in the morning.

 

I slept on the couch that night.

 

One would think I would have gone crazy, knowing that I live like a stranger throughout my own life, and I often felt like I was. Somehow, I managed to act normal enough that my brother withdrew his constant suspicion, and while it was hard to look at her, I tried to speak with her as I would do before. Then again, I don't remember much of what life was like back when I was oblivious like everyone else, so maybe it didn't mean as much as I thought after all.

 

It had been two months, almost three; I hated being a Mob Character all that time. It wouldn't take me long, however, to start being thankful for it.

Chapter Text

After three months of pretending everything was fine, I soon realised that being seen less would help my case in not getting weird looks from my family. You can't be suspicious of you're not there.

 

And that's how I found myself at the local library.

 

It was the perfect spot. Boys of my class would never pop up here, since it was closer to my home than the school. Plus, my neighborhood was one filled with aging NPC's, our family being an exception with Ayato and me as the only kids living here still in school. As for the older generation, they tended to not notice me most of the time. It seemed I was a Mob Character that slips under the radar of even other Mob Characters. Charming.

 

I sighed, closing the textbook, laying my forehead on top of it, arms loose and folded on top of my knees under the table.

 

'I need a break.'

 

From school, from my family, from my friends, from life in general. I wanted to float away to a place where none of this existed, where I could go and breathe and just exist without the reality of the world hovering over me.

 

 

Every single day was more terrifying than the last. Every night I lay in bed, contemplating about what was real and what wasn't. People have started looking more like literary devices than humans, and I can't see anyone as more than a printed drawing on a page, including myself. 

 

All week, I had been trying my hardest to keep it all under a lid, forcing down all of my anger, all of my resentment and hiding my anxiety from everybody who gave even an inkling of attention to me. At this point, not drawing eyes to myself felt more like a necessity for survival than a simple choice.

 

The more I thought about it, the more questions popped up. Was I living inside a literal manga? Is it one of those transmigration/regression worlds where the world of a novel becomes reality? Probably not. If it were so, there wouldn't be this many romance plots taking place in one world. Here, every other boy is experiencing his own gay romance. If this were some kind of "isekai", there would be only one main plot.

 

How was a Mob Character chosen and how was a Main Character or Male Lead chosen? Is it genetic? Is this a scientific phenomenon too complex for humanity to understand? How is it that the whole world is gay and yet everyone believes that we are living in a heteronormative society? Or is it magic? Fate? Divine power? Where do other cultures, countries, ethnicities and more fit in all this? Is the world mostly occupied by Mob Characters that run the world like sheep while it revolves around BL protagonists? 

 

As far as manga goes, Japan is the only country with this particular style of comics and illustration, but BL as a genre is present in other countries too. Would that mean Koreans are living in BL manhwas instead? And what about the Chinese, are they living in manhuas? But manhuas are so riddiculously censored, so then how do BL protagonists live in China? If I went to China, would I automatically get censored everytime two characters displayed affection with random blobs of light, a falling leaf or flower, similarly to how I see bright halos and flowery backgrounds when I look at MCs and MLs?

 

(Part of me wished I could confirm it so I could pack my bags, get a scholarship and move there. I was tired of accidentally catching passionate lovers in the act in public places and being the only one who sees the VERY obvious. I would pick living in a country I don't know the language of and saying goodbye to my family any day over seeing the deranged, utterly depraved things these people get up to whenever and wherever they like, and wishing I'd just poured bleach in my eyes instead.)

 

But the most recurring question I found myself having was- Why me? Why was I the only one to break away from the spell that's been cast on this world? Why am I the only one aware of this? Why am I the only one scrambling for answers and desperate for normalcy while everyone else stays blissfully unaware? Why couldn't I have stayed oblivious too? 

 

Truly, I would've been far happier if I had never realised this world's true nature. Mob Character that I was, I would've married a girl without ever noticing I couldn't see her face and never gotten to know her (the idea of which still left a deep pit in my stomach, because that would imply that my parents' relationship was built on this premise too). I would have become Random Corporate Employee No. # or something. Life would have been so much better if I just didn't know.

 

Then again... the more I try to remember my life before I got my "reality check", the harder it gets to recall. Like a vague dream. I have memories of events that happened around me, but it feels as if I lived them through someone else, as if my body had been on autopilot the whole time.

 

Would I rather deal with the harsh truth or live my life as if I were asleep?

 

The pit in my stomach only got deeper.

 

I envied Ayato deeply. He had no clue about the world around him, and it showed in the way he interacted with me and everyone else. He was just so... casual. He would stare at me every now and then as if I were the strange one. He would just go about his day, talking and laughing, watching T.V. and playing video games. He truly noticed nothing. He is supposed to be a Mob Character, just like me, and yet he seemed much more... well-adjusted.

 

That was another thing that bugged me. I was barely noticed, but Ayato always seemed to be greeted by kind old ladies everywhere he went. He would often return home with fruits and vegetables some elderly neighbour had fondly given him. When I asked about it, Ayato had scoffed at me and said, "It’s because I'm polite and respectful. Unlike you, who's allergic to any human interaction longer than thirty seconds."

 

Fair, honestly, even if he exagerated it to some degree. Sometimes I myself can't tell if I'm quiet because I'm a Mob Character or if I'm a Mob Character because I'm quiet. But then I attempt to make conversation with people and I'm only met with blank expressions that very clearly read, 'Why are you talking to me?'

 

No one ever gave Ayato that look. Ayato was a natural conversationalist. He had the ability to make small talk without sounding awkward, a feat even the many BL protagonists failed at. It crossed my mind once if Ayato was actually a Main Character, but when I imagined him kissing and flirting with some faceless boy the idea left me altogether. Instead, I was disgusted. My reason for dismissing that possibility was that BL protagonists were supposed to be delicate and docile (as far as I knew at the time).

 

I had seen Ayato shove a live, wriggling gecko down another boy's shirt in preschool at the playground all because he was hoarding the slide. He was a total bully back then, and I am sure he's no less notorious now, when pushed to his limits. If there was a genre Ayato belonged in, it was horror.

 

His obstinate nature, pure spite and denseness would either make him the lone survivor or the first one to die at the hands of a horrid creature- that, or he would be the horrid creature itself. To me, the last one seemed the most plausible off all. Delicate and docile? Please, that boy was a menace.

 

Of course, there was the possibility that he was a Male Lead, but the idea nearly made me chuckle. Ayato was as tall and manly as a dwarf shrub in a Hello Kitty plant pot. No, Ayato was definitely not a Love Interest or a Main Character.

 

No, it was almost as if... Ayato belonged in this world. Like he was made for it.

 

I didn't understand that thought, because if Ayato was meant for this world, wouldn't that imply that I... wasn't? It made sense and it didn't. Why would I break out of an illusion if I wasn't beyond it? But if I was a anomaly, why was I the perfect Mob Character? Isn't the characteristic of an anomaly to be odd? Then why do I fade into the background so easily?

 

Why, if my actions are truly as strange as Ayato claims they are, am I invisible? And why is my family the only one to notice?

 

'What does it matter?' I sighed, brushing a hand through my hair, leaning back in my chair, 'It’s not like I'm ever going to find answers to these questions. From what I know, Buddha himself had no idea that we live in a BL world. What could I, a Mob Character, possibly do to figure out the secrets of the universe?'

 

Wait.

 

What could I do, as a Mob Character?

 

If I am really virtually invisible... could I get away with theft? Could I rob a bank? Could I, hypothetically, get away with crimes as grave as, say, arson?

 

'No, if I get thrown in jail, I could have to witness the 'Hot Cop x Cold-Blooded Criminal' trope in person. Not worth trying for a theory.'

 

It struck me a bit too late that I was thinking of commiting a crime, not a lab experiment.

 

'What the hell is wrong with me? Why am I thinking like that? Am I going crazy? If I become a delinquent, I'll have to witness yet another 'Bad Boy x Goody-Two Shoes' trope, but even more up close! And mom will cry!'

 

 

Speak of the devil and he shall appear.

 

And, here, the devil was the 'Bad Boy x Goody-Two Shoes' trope. 

 

 

"Hey, you!"

 

 

'Ugh, no, please... Not this again...'

 

 

"What?" Snapped the guy wearing a red arm sash sitting behind me.

 

 

"I've been looking for you everywhere! Why'd you leave?!" A boy, presumably of middle-school age, walked up to the table behind me and slammed his hands loudly against the wood, getting all up in the nerdy guy's space. He was wearing baggy pants and his hair was styled in a pompadour. 

 

 

Classic loud delinquent. I curse myself for not bringing earphones with me. This is the fourth time this month! And we're only two weeks and a half in!

 

 

"I have better things to do than tutor a lost cause like you! You're rude, selfish and you never pay attention! You make me sick!"

 

 

"I'm selfish?! Me?! You’re the one treating me like a chore! All you care about is extra credit! I knew that old hag was setting me up for something stupid!"

 

 

"Don't call Sensei that, you disrespectful moron! And don't call this stupid, call yourself stupid! All you do is complain and complain and complain! You never work to get better, you never make an effort to improve, you expect that everything will land right into your hand if you stand around and wait! You're the stupid one, not her!"

 

 

I had to make a conscious effort not to repeatedly bang my head against the table right then. Where is the librarian when you need her?

 

 

"Oh yeah?! Well, you are only willing to tutor people so that you can get brownie points from that damned teacher you have a crush on! She's ugly, so I guess you're both meant to be!"

 

 

"It’s not like that and you know it! Take it back, you slug!"

 

 

I felt a vein pop out in my jaw. 

 

'Alright, no, this is fine. They're going to end up dating anyway. Just keep your head down and ignore it. It's not a big deal-'

 

 

"I won't! You're disgusting, you're stuck up and you're full of shit!" The delinquent scowled, his mouth twisting nastily.

 

 

Remember how I said I had been trying desperately to keep my anger under a lid?

 

Well, involuntarily, the lid burst.

 

 

"SHUT UP!" I yelled, slamming my book onto the table.

 

"ARE YOU EVEN AWARE OF YOUR SURROUNDINGS?! THIS IS A PUBLIC SPACE, I DID NOT SIGN UP TO HEAR YOUR 'LOVER'S QUARELL'!! EITHER SIT QUIETLY OR LEAVE!!"

 

 

...In my defense, I was a stupid highschooler back then.

 

The hall monitor and the delinquent stared at me, dumbfounded. The delinquent scowled, stepping forward threateningly- and I very nearly flinched.

 

Unexpectedly, though, the delinquent froze in place. The back of his shirt was being pulled back by a surprisingly strong grip- the nerd with the intense eyebrows was surprisingly strong. He stepped beside him, grabbed the delinquent's loose uniform tie and dragged it down as he bowed at a perfectly 90° angle, forcing the delinquent to bow with him. "We apologise for our rude and disruptive behaviour, Senior. Please forgive us for our unruliness. You are absolutely right, we were being inconsiderate of others in a public place. We shall, henceforth, ban ourselves from this library."

 

This time, I did flinch. 

 

"O...kay. It's fine... really... you don't have to bow..."

 

"We are very sorry. We shall get out of your hair this very moment." The boy said, straightening back up, his hand still on the delinquent's tie.

 

The delinquent on the other hand... He seemed very bothered. Not in a 'how dare you force me to bow' way. In a 'oh no, he's holding my tie and was he always this strong-' way. Yeah. I could see it all over his red, tomato-shaded face.

 

I gaped at them, wordlessly. The hall monitor- because he gave that vibe- lead the delinquent by the tie like it was a leash, and the delinquent followed like a puppy as the hall monitor collected their books and walked him away and out of the library. The flowery halo I had grown too used to in the past few weeks appeared- and behind his head appeared lavender blooms. I cringed.

 

Once again, I had unintentionally become the catalyst of another romance plot point.

 

Ew.

 

I shouldered my bag, disgusted still at the sight I had seen, and made for home.

 

Another boy fallen in love with another boy. I looked back at the spot they had been arguing at and sighed.

 

Oh, well. At least they didn't make out in the library.

 

'I wish you two happiness.'

 

 

Chapter Text

Ouchi-sensei was a great teacher. Extremely passionate, gentle in his approach to students yet strict in the face of misbehaviour. He was the newly appointed mathematics professor famed for his ability to reel in even the worst students and discipline them for life. He was highly respectable, well-loved- perhaps because the creator gods had decided he was a favourable fellow and blessed him with the genetics of a main character- and impeccably put together. With wavy hair he usually wore slicked back brushing his temples gently and a pair of soft, dark eyes tinged with a kindness that betrayed his disciplined persona. He was a good-looking man, but it was obvious he would never think of himself in such a way with how humble, focused and practical he was.

Though he had gotten caught up with a few delinquents of Class E at the start of the year, things had been smoothing down now that we were in the middle of the semester. He had no reason to be injured or hurt in a fight.

So his showing up with badly hidden bruises under the cuffs and collar of his shirt was definitely a kink thing.

It was Wednesday, and I was in a foul mood. Ayato and I had fought again, this time over something so stupid and overdone that I was sure he did it only to annoy me into confessing. He'd been doing it since our confrontation in the kitchen. First, it was stealing one of every single pair of socks I owned, then "accidentally" spilling sugar syrup under my mattress so I had to wash it and get rid of the army of ants that had taken up space in my room and then there were the constant loud interruptions every time I had something to say.

This morning, it had been about umbrellas.

"Dad, don't forget your umbrella-"

"-Who would need an umbrella? It's still May-"

"It’s going to rain today, I can smell it in the air-"

"-No, you can't. No one can smell the rain before it comes."

"-It's not the rain, it's the air. Smells of ozone."

"There's no such thing as a smell of ozone-"

"Would you like me to remind you of second grade when I put a raincoat in your bag and you were the only one who didn't have to stay back at school for the rain to stop and come home dry? Or last year when you-"

"Coincidence."

"Alright."

And then I had ignored further attempts at inciting an argument. He'd only run his mouth louder when he realised I wasn't responding, and though I didn't react, it had been a great feat of patience to deal with.

I was sitting in my usual place in the middle, near the window. I had a habit of peeking outside every time class got too boring; I was really getting used to the perks of being socially non-existent, though they were few.

And that's when I saw him- a few years older than us, a second or third year college student- and most probably Ouchi-Sensei's former student if the predictability of BL manga tropes I had skimmed through in my research were to be believed. At a glance, I could guess much about him: former delinquent, fallen for his teacher, confessed on graduation day, currently in a complex, dramatic situation-ship with said teacher involving much sexual content.

Poor Sensei.

It made me really dread becoming an adult. In school, it's all puppy love and wholesome crushes. As adults... not so much. I imagine they must get up to some nasty stuff I would kill not to witness- and the fact that office sex is such a popular theme in Boys' Love manga is not reassuring at all for a future random office worker like me.

It made me wince to think of the future- how will I ever bear to work in the same space as people doing the deed in the office next door? It gave me the creeps to even imagine being colleagues with people desecrating the workplace in such a manner. If I haven't made it clear, I absolutely despise those who make their coupling everyone else's business.

Getting back on topic, the ex-student was leaning against a sleek black motorcycle, one helmet hooked over the handle and one in his hand as he seemed to wait for his beloved professor to get done with his last class for the day. He had cropped, red hair and a lip piercing- and a few more in his ears. Even from this distance, I could see that he had striking yellow eyes. He was wearing a bomber jacket and ripped jeans, and he seemed pretty muscular and tall. When his halo bloomed, the light behind him gleamed gold and sunflowers moved to face upwards- as if looking straight into the first window from the blackboard, at Ouchi-sensei.

I looked up to see Ouchi-sensei glancing briefly outside through that window, his face pinkening as he recognised the ex-student and pointedly went back to teaching, turning to the blackboard to hide his flustered face, but his glowing red ears gave him away. Not that anyone else other than me noticed anyway.

'This guy better treat Ouchi-sensei well.' I sighed. 'He's the only one who calls me by my name in this classroom... Or tries to, at least.'

That was true. I was quite fond of Ouchi-sensei. I had never noticed it before I realised the truth of my name - he was the only teacher who didn't call me 'Mobu-kun' when they called for me, which was rare in itself. I wondered if it was his little quirk, a part of his personality to maintain professionalism as a Main Character, or if he was different from all these other people.

I hate the garbled sound of my name, but I hate being called 'Mobu' even more. I would take being called in alien dialect than that distasteful nickname any day.

So I found myself regretful that Ouchi-sensei was already succumbing to the fate of every man in this world. I don't know what I had hoped, perhaps I had wished he was a Mob Character like me. It would have been comforting if someone like him were like me- he was well-liked and led a steady, healthy life. It would have given me hope for my own future- but of course not. It was stupid of me to have wishful thinking. Mob Characters like me were created to fade into the background.

I sighed, rubbing my face and pressing my eyelids under my fingers. I looked back at the board and noted the formulas down in my notebook. During lunch, I'd been wandering the halls to stay away from Arakaki's... Arakaki-ness. I happened to overhear the teachers whispering to each other about 'the diligent Ouchi-san asking for an early leave for the first time ever'. They had been giggling under the blur on their faces, making up conspiracy of the reason for the early leave being a date- if the significant other is a man or a woman and what they might be like.

They were probably right about the date part.

When the bell finally rang, I was one of the first to get up from my seat. I was on cleaning duty, but I'm sure Suzuki and Takashi would like to be left alone to spend precious time together bickering and accidentally falling into each other in compromising positions. No one would notice me gone anyway.

□ □-kun, please stay back."

I froze, looking back at Ouchi-sensei. I was surprised. I haven't been called upon in so long that I don't even bother paying attention in class anymore. It's not like I'm being a bad student- I study on my own and still get good enough marks to make the cut, so I don't see why I should pay attention anyway.

I stood beside the desk as the other students walked past, awaiting the message. "Yes, Sensei?" I swallowed nervously. I am not very brave, especially when I'm singled out. It's a rather rare occurrence, after all.

Ouchi-sensei pushed his smart, glasses"□ □-kun, I have noticed you weren't paying attention today." He said, not unkindly. My stomach twisted and my throat dried up. I had thought I was totally unseen.

"I am sorry. I assure you that I took down everything- I can recite everything and solve the problems." I blurted, biting the inside of my cheek. Instantly, I felt insolent for saying that. What if he took it the wrong way and thought I meant that I didn't need to pay attention to his teaching to do well?

"That is not what I meant. I know very well that you are not lagging behind, but you are my student. It is my job to notice when a student seems troubled." He said, putting a hand on my shoulder awkwardly, patting it. I glanced discreetly at the red line on his thin wrist- probably from a pair of handcuffs. My facial muscles battled the urge to grimace. Still, I held his gaze. Sex is normal. People are allowed to do what pleases them- I shouldn't judge like a pre-schooler that believes in kiss-transmitted cooties. Still, the thought of my poor teacher losing his chastity induces the worst kind of second-hand embarrassment in me.

"Young man, if there is anything that bothers you, you are always welcome to talk to me about it," Ouchi-sensei said delicately, "You are at a tender age. While I am sure you are capable of handling your own problems, asking for help from time to time will surely ease the burden, if there is any. It doesn't even have to be me- anyone you are comfortable with is enough."

I nodded dumbly. I know he means well, but if I ever talk about it, everyone will think I'm having a psychotic break. No, thank you, Sensei, I'd rather merrily swallow my troubles instead.

"Yes, Sensei. I will heed your advice well. I will not let myself get diverted again."

Ouchi-sensei sighed, shaking his head, "You are not catching my drift. This is not about academic competence. I want you to sincerely consider my words, □ □-kun, and try to speak up more if you have problems or issues. Letting things go unsaid and not expressing yourself can be harmful to the self-esteem."

I blinked at him, "I am not keeping anything to myself, sir. I am just of a shy nature, that is all. You mustn't worry."

If I had been insolent before, I was surely in his bad books now.

"...If you insist," Ouchi-sensei frowned like he didn't believe me, but retracted his hand from my shoulder anyway. "Go ahead, see you tomorrow."

"Yes, Sensei. Thank you."

I turned tail and speed-walked.

Why did Ouchi-sensei tell me all that? Did mom put him up to this? Did something happen with my friends? Probably not, nothing they would do could relate to me, with how I barely hang out with them outside of class anymore.

Oh, wait. Did he notice how I've been isolating myself a little?

That would make sense, actually. He wouldn't have singled me out for never participating in class- I have never once raised my hand, and it was never a problem before. Has never been a problem with any teacher, because they don't have anything to say about me anyway. I finish my work on time and get just enough marks that I don't need to improve, and still not considered the star of the class. That title is for Class President Tsunayoshi-kun alone.

But if Ouchi-sensei has noticed how I finish my food early and escape to the library- because that's the kind of Character he is- then the reason he called on me must be that he's genuinely concerned.

I went straight to my locker, replaced my shoes and followed the crowd out of the gate. I had only gotten a few fifty steps ahead when the smell of oncoming rain, something that had started haunting the atmosphere more dominantly at the arrival of the ex-student, became stronger. I unslung my bag and took out the umbrella I had kept. I glanced briefly behind me and saw the ex-student still waiting for his dear professor. Totally oblivious to the fact that in about five minutes, he and Ouchi-sensei will be speeding back home on that motorcycle with only his leather jacket covering both of them them and failing at keeping them warm.

As the first drop of rain falls on the pavement, I notice how the sunflower halo behind the guy's head starts to dull. Sunflowers blossom best in the sun, and today is not a sunny day. Not for him.

Poor guy. He probably meticulously planned every single second of their date too. Now all that hard work will be going down the drain because he'll probably catch a cold and Ouchi-sensei will be stuck taking care of him with home-cooked stew and wet towels like a dutiful spouse- a Caretaking/Domestic Bliss trope, probably.

I huffed, crushing a stray weed underfoot. Another man succumbed to the common fate of this world. I thought back to the embarrassed blush on Sensei's face when he had looked out of the window. Maybe this wasn't a bad thing

At least Ouchi-sensei seems content.

Chapter Text

Although I didn't dare to show it at the risk of being kicked in the face (Ayato had a mean roundhouse for someone so short), I was smug.

Remember the annoying argument my brother and I had gotten into this morning? Well, turns out, obviously, I was right after all. Ayato came home muttering darkly under his breath like a vengeful spirit given flesh. It was highly entertaining- therapeutic even, considering the day I had had. I watched him curse in disgust as he wrenched his wet socks off his feet and shake his head like a dog to get rid of the water in hair, a demon-like scowl on his face.

Thank you, oh great, just Buddha. Karma has struck. After having to suffer a whole week of high blood pressure, justice was finally served. My idiot brother was now atoning for his sins against his blameless elder.

He noticed me looking, and his scowl became even more demonic- something I hadn't thought possible. I would usually have backed away because that look usually meant he would chase after me in offense. But today, he looked like too much like a drenched stray mutt to seem even mildly threatening. Well, he's always looked like a stray mutt (something I used to call him back when we were younger and he would cry to mom about), but the wet clothes made him look especially pathetic.

"You got something to say, huh?!" He growled, eyes squinting in that characteristically Ayato way of his.

I merely shook my head side to side, the serene look I knew pissed him off to no end plastered over my face, "Mm, nothing."

That made it worse, face scrunching up like a particularly ill-tempered piece of aluminium foil wrap.

"Don't you dare say 'I told you so'. It was just a fluke, you hear me?! You won't be right next time!"

"Huh? But I'm not saying anything?" I gave him a fake-oblivious tilt of my head.

"Ugh, you-!"

"Boys, stop. Ayato, go get changed. Your food is getting cold."

He huffed, pulling a face as he drawled a bratty 'yeees moooom'.

"And you, stop antagonising your brother. He's a pain to handle already, I don't need you to push him into one of his moods again." She scolded me, the blur on her mouth shifting- widening or stretching to cover it as she spoke. Instantly, the smugness from before dissolved, and my stomach curdled. An awkward silence rose yet again. She must have expected me to say something deffensive- "But I didn't even say anything!", perhaps.

Shit, another cue missed. Just when I thought I was getting used to this improv show, too. I thought I was doing a better job than three months ago when I first realised the world's truth.

I mentally face-palmed before nodding belatedly and feeling dumb. It didn't help. She had been noticing it too, how I had changed. How I had been micro-avoiding her. I'd feigned just enough casualness to fend off conversations borne from concern that I definitely won't be able to have. I wracked my brain, noticing how she visibly diminished the longer the silence stretched.

(I swallowed down the image of my mother's shadow pacing outside my room the days after, when I had refused to show for hours. I hadn't seen it, but I had felt her hesitancy when she had stepped closer and paused for multiple seconds. Then she had given up.)

Ayato gave me a suspicious side-eye, gaze sharp as a vulture's. He seemed to have picked up on my hesitation. It was entirely too irksome- he was usually as oblivious as a brick. Why the hell was he so perceptive now? His eyes followed me even as he slid away into his room to change. I carefully kept my face impassive, pretending not to notice him looking. Instead, I refocused my attention on our mom.

Quick, topic change...

"Ayato was at cram school, right? I thought you would have let him study at home since he's been whining so much about it," I attempted.

The change is almost instant. The smallness in mom's demeanour dissipated.

"Yes, well, I'd consider it if he actually studied on his own. All he does is play video games. He should learn from his big brother."

"-Learn from Aniki?!" Ayato barreled in, now wearing dry clothes and drying his hair with a towel, still scowling, "And what? Become an anti-social weirdo? He's only such a nerd because nobody likes him at school and he's got nothing better to do."

Ouch. Outwardly, I just rolled my eyes and ignored that mean little jab. Mom made an offended noise on my behalf. "You’re being disrespectful to your brother! Apologise now."

"You say so as if that's not the purpose of going to school," I said bluntly, "Makes sense, considering your company- you probably go to school just to fool around with them. If I were you, I'd rather be alone than deal with such a hay-brained lot. Maybe consider that you aren't doing well in school because you're surrounding yourself with idiots."

"My friends aren't idiots!"

"Your friends still struggle to multiply three digit numbers because they have to recite the whole table to reach their answers."

"That's just Touya! And he can't help it if his memory's bad!"

"And what about that boy with the obnoxious red hair who still confuses his right from his left?" I asked, raising an eyebrow.

"Mom, Nii-san is insulting my friends."

"It's not an insult if it's true."

"□□, Ayato, stop that. Just come eat already."

"Yeah, Aniki, stop that. You sound like a nerd."

"Please, even a raccoon would sound nerdy to you, with how low your bar for intellectual capabilities is."

"What did I just say?" Mom said, voice threatening. I shut my mouth.

"I've stopped." I mumble, avoiding Ayato's smug grin. Instead, I took out the palm sized notepad I had written down in upon entering the house.

○ chicken teriyaki
○ pickled daikon
○ spinach ohitashi
○ miso
○ rice

As mom placed the tray on the table, I felt myself smile. Everything on the list was now in my bowl. When I had reached home, I had recognised the smell of the dishes and written them down to see if I got it right. It satisfied me to know that I hadn't missed anything and guessed all the food correctly just by smell.

A perfect score. Seems that I've still got it. Small mercies.

The smile dropped into annoyance when I heard Ayato look over my shoulder and scoff- the way he always does when he notices me do test my sense of smell. He thinks it's stupid, like he thinks most things I do and like are. I ignored him yet again.

"Itadakimasu," I muttered, and dug in.

Ayato complained about the spinach, asking mom why she didn't make eggs.

"We're out of eggs."

"Well, you could have given Nii-san a call and he would've bought them on the way," he pouted, poking the spinach with his chopsticks, "You know I don't like spinach."

"Eat it. I'm not going to make separate food to match everyone's preference. I have chores other than cooking all day to do. Besides, spinach is good for you."

Ayato sat back in his seat with a huff. He had always been a picky eater. What a big baby.

I continued eating, trying to finish my food before he tried to put his portion of the spinach in my bowl. It's not that I don't like spinach, but I wanted to get this lunch over with unnoticed in case mom started trying to steer the conversation topic to me.

Didn't work. Ayato sneaked his bowl towards me anyway. Rude brat, he didn't even look my way or say please. Usually I would have silently taken the spinach, but I was annoyed of him. So I thought I'd tell on him instead.

"I'm not eating your spinach, Ayato." I voiced loudly, and mom turned to him, tutting. (I had a vague feeling that the blur on her face was twisted in disapproval- not sure how a blur can even look disapproving. Maybe it was wishful thinking, and the thought made me retrace my gaze back into my bowl).

"I spend a lot of time making this food. You will finish your bowl, and you will be grateful for it. I swear, you have no sense of shame or guilt. I never once gave your grandmother grief for food she made so lovingly for us the way you do to me when I was your age," she lectured with an offended tone.

"...Sorry."

Ayato glared at me as mom went on a tangent about her childhood being so much more difficult than ours and how she still remained obedient- like every parent ever, and I smiled as I raised the bowl of remaining miso to my mouth. The topic deviated from food to obedience and sincerity, then to academics. I had to bite my lip to not smirk at Ayato's sputtering at the barrage of scolding words.

"-I don't remember a single day my mother had to tell me to study. I used to do that on my own, and look at you. I have to knock on your door ten times a day to make sure you're not wasting time on mangas. Kids your age don't even need cram school, but what choice do we have if you won't study on your own than to waste money?"

Ayato gritted his teeth, "Nii-san reads manga and plays video games all the time! You don't scold him!"

"Well, your brother also studies hard before he uses his free time. You don't. If you learned from him instead of complaining, I wouldn't scold you either," she said testily.

"Yeah, well, if he's so great and I should 'learn from him', maybe he should just tutor me instead."

I was only a couple steps out of my chair, aiming to leave silently, when mom paused at that statement. I blinked, and I had to mentally rewind the words before the feeling of dread and distaste followed at the realisation.

'Well, shit.'

Because obviously, mom was already considering it. She had paused her rant to turn to Ayato, tilting her head just like he does when he seems thoughtful.

"I'm not tutoring you. I have better things to do," I tried, hoping it would salvage this before it went where I knew it was going.

"Mom, think about it. He helps his classmates out during exams all the time, and they aren't even his good friends! Hey, Nee-san, don't tell me you're too busy for your little brother!" He said, his voice taking on a pitiful tone, but his lips twitched as if he were trying to suppress a devilish smirk. His shined bright with challenge.

"Well, he's right... It would save us your tuition expenses."

"Exactly! And besides, this way, if he teaches well, he can tutor my friends too! They need help with their studies as well. Just the other day, we were talking about trying to get help from seniors."

I physically felt the blood drench from my face at the thought, "No. No, I will not tutor anyone."

"Wait, sweetheart," mom conceded, "At least think it through... You said you wanted to start working part-time, but this way you won't even have to go elsewhere to work. Wouldn't that just be easier than taking up a job?"

I really should pick better topics to make small talk when I try to seem like a normal son. If I had never mentioned that damned part-time thing, we wouldn't be here.

"I can't. It will interfere with my studies," I tried again.

"Oh, so teaching your brother will hinder your studies but working at and travelling to and from a dingy convenience store won't?" Ayato didn't even hide his smugness this time.

I was caught.

"Please, □□, consider it. Your brother really needs help, and it would save us a lot if you agreed. Besides, if you agree, I'll increase your pocket money twofold. That, with the tution fee, it would be a good amount, don't you think?" She said, turning to me and grasping my arm before I could flee, and though I would never be able to know what expression she was making, her tone told me she was hopeful.

My stomach twisted in knots. I found myself involuntarily staring at her blurry face again. The place where her hand held my arm warmed my skin even under the sleeve, and the sorrow returned in waves. I didn't remember the last time I talked with her this long. Hell, I didn't remember the last time I let her touch me. She seemed to be in a good mood right now- she had only just started easing up on her worries and doubts for me this month. It had taken a lot of pretending to convince her not to hover over me anymore.

The shame of lying, the grief of this horrid existence of ours, all the bitter days I hated her for not calling me by a coherent name, they all resurfaced- this time tasting of guilt.

In her placid, invisible visage, I saw Ayato's cheery excitement. His toothy grin, the one he wears when he thinks he's figured something out. For the hundredth time, I imagined what face she must be making, trying to picture it with what I've seen on Ayato. I realised that perhaps I was just a tiny bit envious of him for inheriting a piece of my mother I won't ever even get to see- her face. It really wasn't fair, I loved her too.

Yeah. I remember now. I loved her. I missed her.

It was an odd feeling. Why would I miss her when she's right there? She has *been* right there, all this time, hoping and waiting to see if I would tell her what's wrong. Trusting me enough to handle my own affairs and asking for help if I can't. She had been here, and I had been avoiding her all because of my own stupid, selfish, closed off behaviour, hurting her. It had been so hard, all these days, not to break down where she could see. I never realised how much I had been hurting in the attempt to keep my secrets. I felt a little choked up as I nodded wordlessly.

Maybe I didn't miss my mother, maybe I missed a time when things were simpler. When I didn't *see*, when she was less of a person with an identity that I could never get to know. Just a pair of warm arms that held me when I felt like it and a voice that praised my every little achievement. Just a comfort.

Was that worse? Was it wrong that I loved my mother not for her identity but merely her connection to me?

Or is her love, her worry, her trust- all her heart reserved for me a window into who she really is, just enough for me to accept without needing to fully grasp the rest, unreachable parts of her?

"...Sure. I'll do it," I said, quieter than I had intended.

"Oh. Well, I was going to suggest you think about it..."

"No, I'll... I'll teach Ayato," I said, trying not to let the sudden urge, the compulsion to agree with her so she wouldn't wither with dissapointment again show.

"Thank you, honey. I'm sure you'll do a good job. You're a good kid." He head tilted, just slightly, like Ayato's often did when he found something endearing.

"You're a good kid."

'Hah. Sure.'

"...Really? Just like that?" Ayato frowned, looking between me and mom in confusion.

I shrugged, clearing my throat, "I changed my mind. It's my chance to beat some much-needed discipline into you. Don't complain, you asked for it."

Ayato stared after me as I put my bowl in basin, and I could already see his mind churning. Good. Let him have second thoughts. He should have started regretting it the second mom gave me authority over him.

"Thanks for the food." I said, before going upstairs to my room to question and second-guess for what would probably be the rest of the evening.