eight

Kiyoshi didn't seem to understand the concept of happiness. He would smile, but it never lasted more than a few seconds. He would laugh, but they were always forced and never genuine. And though he truly seemed happy at times, he wasn't.

He thought that if he forced himself enough, soon he would grasp happiness. But Kiyoshi was too broken for that — he had already forced himself too much.

On the third week of our 'relationship', I found Kiyoshi crying once again. It brought me back to the day when I first met him—the crying, the screaming, it all came rushing back to me. The only difference this time was that he was crying on the school's rooftop, not in a classroom.

He didn't seem to be hiding from anybody this time, though—it was as if he had gotten tired of hiding. I kept my distance from him, knowing what would happen if I approached him at his weakest.

It wasn't long before he started to yell. They were louder than last time and much more high-pitched. I closed my eyes tightly and covered my ears, kneeling down. When I opened them a few seconds later, I saw that he was scratching his hand once again. There were already scars from the last time he had done it and the wound wasn't fully healed yet, but he could've cared less.

"Stop!" he kept yelling with his eyes shut tightly. "Stop it! Go away!!"

I was confused. Who is he talking to? There was no one else there besides me and him—he couldn't have been talking to anyone else. It took me longer than it should've to realize that he was talking to himself.

"Go away!! Please, go away." The way he had begged broke me and brought tears to my eyes. He sounded so broken and weak, as if he were in pain. A part of me wanted to stop hiding and run up to him and hug him. I wanted to tell him that he was okay and that I was there for him, that I would stay there for as long as he needed me.

But I didn't do that.

I did what I had done last time.

Avoiding his screaming and yelling, I turned around with tears threatening to fall from my eyes.

And I walked away.