seventeen

I expected him to be angry when I saw him the next day, but he wasn't. Instead, Kiyoshi was laughing, as if what I had said to his parents was actually something to laugh about.

Finally, he looked at me and smiled. "Good job," he said, patting my head as if what I'd done was actually a good job. I yelled at his parents—what kind of good job is that?

"Are you laughing because they deserved it," I started, "or because I'm pathetic?" He went silent and stared down at his feet, then looked at me.

"You're not pathetic," he said. "If you were," he paused and suddenly smiled, "I probably would've pointed it out, you know."

I snorted and he started laughing again. "You did a good job," he said, smiling at me. I stared at him, a smile slowly creeping up to my face as well.

"Why, thank you," I said. "It's nice to see you happy."

"I'm glad I'm not hurting you anymore," he mumbled, kicking the rocks beneath his feet.

"Huh?"

"Nothing," he said instantly, shaking his head. "It was nothing."

I heard him, I know what Kiyoshi said. Seeing him so happy and smiley doesn't hurt me, but the fact that I don't know how long that happiness will last or if his smile is actually real hurts me more. I feel like my heart is being shattered to pieces, but that will never compare to what he goes through everyday when I'm not around.

"Kiyoshi," I called his name. He hummed and glanced at me. "Does it still hurt?" I asked.

The smile on his face slowly disappeared, he knows what I'm talking about. With a sigh, he said, "Yeah. It still hurts."

"Why won't yo—"

"Ren."

"I just want to help you, Kiyoshi," I said. "I want you to stop hu—"

"It doesn't matter whether I hurt or n—"

"Stop saying it doesn't matter!" I said, raising my voice and standing up from the bench. "It may not matter to you, but it matters to me!!"

"Why does it matter to you when you're not the one that has to deal with it everyday?" he asked, looking at me with watery eyes. I stared into them, mine becoming filled with tears as well.

He didn't yell, but the way he had said it, the way he was looking at me—it made me feel that way, like he was yelling at me because I said something wrong.

Because I care too much.

"You're right," I said, suddenly angry. These emotions, I didn't know where they were coming from—it scared me to think that I could even get angry. "I'm only supposed to get you out of an unwanted engagement; that's the only reason why we're even talking, isn't it?"

"I didn't mean it that way," Kiyoshi said. His voice was quiet, almost hurt. "You know that."

"I don't know anything," I said. "I don't know anything about you, Kiyoshi." I walked away, leaving him alone on the bench with tears threatening to fall from my eyes.

Why was I so emotional? Why was it that Kiyoshi, a boy I had met less than three weeks ago, had such an impact on me? It didn't make any sense to me, but one thing was very clear to me, and that was that walking away from him was all I'd ever be good at.