七つ He didn’t want to turn around, he didn’t want to look at her. The heel of his slippered foot was hovering just an inch from the frame of his door leading outside. Open so his sheer discomfort would be seen to anyone and had Momo been home, he’d have to respond with ‘ah, it’s nothing’.
He was with her for over a year, not once had she talked about that mysterious past of hers. Giving him answers amounting to ‘I don’t know’. So why then? His legs were shaking, as the door swung precariously under his own weight until he forced it closed again. With black hair, with that expression, it was like seeing a ghost. Memories just clicked into place.
“So this - is the truth? So were you just laughing at me this entire time?”
He knew that already, Ene making shots at his ego - his masculinity - his social status, whenever she had the chance to do so. But he always thought of her as that program. Not as a human, even once. Ene was the farthest thing from that scowling, irritated face as she could get.
“Don’t act so comforting all of a sudden!”
Two years later and he was still picking up the pieces of what he used to be before she threw herself off the school roof. He wasn’t able to do anything for her, always complaining and not seeing her problems. Shrugging off her hand and calling her annoying until it was too late.
Hearing the truth now, from her, would take him just a little father to understanding why. Already the image of that smiling brat was looking more like the Enomoto he remembered.
“Tell me what happened to you.”
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