The boy shifted his posture, both of his hands resting on the table. He looked straight in her eyes as he said, "You said I was cute."
After saying that, he immediately flicked his head down, staring at his fidgeting hands. Some time later, he looked up. The woman in front of him was flabbergasted. Her jaw slightly dropped. Eyebrows were struggling to find a position where they could rest, sometimes raised, sometimes staying in one place.
"W-Was this word 'cute' that hard to say?"
"…"
He didn't say a word, only shutting his eyes, though not completely, just enough to block out the upper part of the woman.
"Really?" she asked, her tone sharp.
She was stunned to believe someone like him could exist, that she had entirely forgotten to make her point about being right about who he was.
When the shock left, she wasted no time in lecturing him with her usual motherly attitude.
"Also, in the end, have you said it or not? Because to me, it's clear you did. So this speech about bein' impossible was just an excuse then, right… ? I mean, I knew it from the start. You just needed a little push to see it too."
The boy looked up, his eyes attempting to make contact with hers again.
"I just didn't want to waste more time. If I hadn't done that, I'd never be freed from you."
Just after the words left his mouth, the woman's expression changed, no longer wearing that cheerful smile she had developed during the little time they were together.
"…What's that mean…? Am I bothering you?"
She looked at him with glossy eyes. Her mouth slightly curved downward.
Now this? You want me to correct what I said, even though you know I didn't mean it that way, you still forcing me?
He knew that game. Though, not personally. He had seen it time and time again. Eventually, he grew tired, having no mercy for those who had ever dared to rely on something so deceptive. His mouth, though, could only convey the words that were appropriate for his role to express.
"I wouldn't say a bother…"
"…then what?" Her voice fragile.
You're like my mother.
The same annoying patterns.
A slight tension rose in his chest as he remembered a fragment of his past. He ignored it. That was the only thing he could do in that moment, anyway.
How long does she want this nonsense to continue?
How long am I supposed to do this?
His mind separated him from reality, trying to keep him there. Though it was possible that he was the one who retreated there on his own accord.
The boy looked at the tip of her nose.
"I just wanted to end the conversation because I thought it didn't go anywhere. I don't hate you or anything," he elaborated.
Eventually, knowing he couldn't keep on living inside his room while someone from the other side was constantly knocking on his door, he got up from his chair and walked to the entrance.
The main door stood before him.
He knew his room was something he couldn't show to others, not even to his own family. For that reason, he had decided to open the door and sneak out, quickly shutting the door behind him before anyone would have had a chance to peek inside.
"…are you sure you don't…hate me?" Her eyes shone as the artificial light lit them up.
Sigh… "Yes, I am sure," said the boy exhaustedly.
"Why did you wait before saying it?"
Not this again.
"Were you being sarcastic…? You didn't even mean it, right?"
Her eyes started to get watery.
"…I knew it. I…am a bother." Tears began to fall out of her sockets.
He watched as they fell.
It was too late to escape. She caught him in her webs, and now the only way for him to cut himself out was to wait for her to remove them herself.
That could only happen one way.
"No, no, no. I really don't think you are a bother." He lifted his arms in the air, gesturing she was wrong.
But I will if you continue this.
"…r-really?" Her face was covered in tears, leaving no place dry.
Wish she'd stop.
Why do I even need to do this? I'm not her boyfriend or anything of that sort.
The boy said nothing this time around, waiting for her to stop that game of pretend. Surprisingly, after a few seconds, the woman gave in and faced the boy.
"I believe you." She wiped some of her tears away.
"What… ?" The boy couldn't help but react on impulse.
The woman looked directly into his eye.
"If you say it, then I'll believe," she said with a serious expression on her face.
What did I do for her to think of me as that kind of person?
Was I that convincing?
The boy said, "What do you mean if it's 'me?' I haven't done a single thing for you."
Her expression changed as her lips parted a bit.
"Th-that's not true!" she blurted.
Even though her mouth was only open just a little, her voice came out like a waterfall. For three seconds, only her voice echoed.
"You… You helped…me." Her voice barely above a whisper.
Helped you? Yeah, right. Spare me from that. You don't need to play all your cards out on one person. Leave some for the rest. I'm sure someone like you has the power to do that.
The boy raised an eyebrow as his lips parted enough to squeeze the words out.
"How so?"
For some time, she fell silent. Some of her muscles were twitching under the layers of her skin, partially separating her lips.
In the end, she didn't answer.
Some fidgeting later, she straightened her posture and snuggled herself up to him, her hand stretched out as it rested on the table.
"So you don't like it when I say 'cute,' right?" A little smirk appeared on her face as her hands moved closer to his side of the table, almost reaching the edge.
Was that the limit? he thought, preparing himself to go along with her game.
When she sensed the boy's answer from his silence, the smirk on her face widened. She leaned even further, attempting to touch him.
"Hehe, I see," said the woman, her long nails inches from his black hoodie.
He froze.
Suppressing his urge to flee, he stayed, showing no hint of worry on his face.
"I don't like where this is going," he said with a controlled tone.
His body backed away from her, leaning on the back of the chair, accepting the role she had given him.
"Even more reason we must do it."
Her cheeks puffed up like a clown's. With her hands still at the edge of the table, she no longer moved them closer to him.
Guess everyone has their own way of conquering the storm, thought the boy.
"Let's start with controllin' your embarrassment, shall we?" she said, pulling her hands back as she sized the boy up. Her face still glossy from the tears.
She proceeded to throw even more of those ridiculous words at him.
"How about if I call you cutie?" she paused, pursing her lips as she held one of her fingers there, poking it slightly. She corrected herself, "That's not embarrassin' enough, is it?" Her eyes sparkled with excitement.
"Oh, I know. I'm gonna call you cutie pie from now on. You like that, dontcha?"
Her smile flashed before him, burning into his mind. A smile that wasn't the kind people would naturally wear on their faces.
The boy, upon hearing the words that left her lips, shifted his posture, trying to find a comfortable seat. His head quivered as he struggled to keep listening to the mischievous game of hers.
"Aww, you're so adorable. Look at that cute face of yours," she teased.
By this point, it was obvious to all that she was doing that on purpose, trying her best to find all the ways to squeeze those insults into her every sentence.
Stop. Please, just…
That weird feeling in his stomach came back, circulating as though it was in a loop.
The boy expressed his thoughts clearly in his mind. His hands instinctively moved to cover his ears, but stopped before even being fully lifted from the table. He suppressed his desire to escape and decided to endure it.
The woman, noticing him fidgeting, rested her hand on the table as she said, "You're blushing?" Her words lingered between a statement and a question.
"That's so sweet." Her voice mellowed, as though she was complimenting the good deeds of her child.
The boy, deciding not to put up with her any longer, stood up.
"I'm not blushing," he said. His voice calm, unlike the rest of his body.
"Oh dear, you're clearly red. You don't need to hide it from me. If anything, it's quite endearing."
She revealed a warm smile.
More and more of her words entered the boy's mind. Unable to break free from his consciousness, forever lingering inside.
He clenched his hands, squeezing his fingers tightly together before loosening them back to a slightly curled-up hand. His head dropped, gazing at the floor. Seconds later, his hands spread before him. He turned his palms towards himself, watching his bony fingers stretching from the corner of his eyes to almost where his focal point was.
Hands mixed with pink and yellow.
Red? Where? he asked, only his mind audible.
He tried to find it. He tried to see what the woman sitting across from him was talking about. But even after running his eyes over his entire palm, there was no sign of what she saw. Only his white skin.