Todoroki
19 years ago
Coming home has started to feel more daunting than leaving it. The night draws over the city when I'm at the agency, yet I feel the need to draw out my patrols. I work like one sleeps-- because you need to because you enjoy it-- but also because it's a nice distraction. It's a good way to pass the time and avoid stress.
Stress is all I'm greeted with back home.
"Why are you so upset?" I ask. I've barely taken off my coat. It's on the couch, thrown there carelessly rather than hung because I had to run to Kemuri. I saw a knife in her hand. I saw her flipping it around back and forth, looking at her reflection in it.
You can say I'm overreacting but after the past few weeks, you'd understand why I'm so panicked. I've been with this woman for what I consider to be a long enough time to really know a person. That's how I know she's lying.
"I'm not upset," she says, but it's not a present voice. It's sullen, dragged on. It sounds like her clothes, gray, a bit wrinkled, and faint.
"You're cleaning," I say, rounding the counter of the kitchen as she wipes the rags on the knife set, putting them away one by one. "You only clean when you're upset."
"Shoto," she sighs. "I just need to be alone right now."
She always asks me how I'm doing in the mornings. She tells me about her day when I come home. We make each other dinner, breakfast when we have the time. I ask her out on dates like we're in high school. We kiss and read together. I buy her cookies from this bakery on 5th street that she's obsessed with. She always makes coffee, but never drinks it. She wants a cat, loves cats. I promised we'd get a cat at some point. Kemuri and I know each other like that. We know each other and we fit like puzzle pieces which is why it frustrates me to my core that it ended so abruptly.
All of the sudden, Kemuri woke up in the morning and when I reached to caress her back and kiss her neck she stepped out of bed. She left for work with a curt smile and a see you later. I thought she wanted some space after her parents visited. They've never been very understanding of her career choices. They barely tolerate her life outside of me.
They like you like one likes a nice pair of shoes, she told me, roughing her hands through hair. They like you because you add value to me and therefore to them.
It was a bleak outlook, but I could understand it. In a skewed light, that's not much different than how my father used to see me.
Ever since they came to see her, she's been on edge, but I don't think that was the trigger. Over time, she started to get even more distant. She started existing next to me instead of with me. We were puzzle pieces who fit but one that never wanted to connect.
I keep asking her what's wrong, what she needs. All she ever says is the same thing. I just need to be alone.
"You've been needing to be alone for the past two weeks," I say, losing my patience. "Kemuri, I'm starting to worry about you."
She laughs. Dry and demeaning. She shoves the last knife back in its slot, her fingers grasping the counter.
"What? You want to send me to a shrink?" she asks, sarcasm laced on it.
Her parents sent her to the mental hospital when she was little. Anger issues they told me, although it didn't sound like something so trivial. Kemuri put her hand down when they talked about it. Just breathed a little deeper and held my hand.
"No," I say. "I- I just want to help you-"
"You can't."
"Of course, I can't if you're going to keep ignoring me."
