It all happened shortly after I graduated elementary school.
Firstly, before everything comes rolling downhill, as a rule of living, I don't indulge in remembering the past. Yet, as I resolved myself to pen these pages, I don't suppose the promise works anymore. If luck isn't what you possess and I no longer know: but if there's something in immersing yourself in this unstable biopic, it's that you wouldn't dare dream of testing the waters.
A wryly announced precautionary tale.
Quite like Pinocchio, or any other childrens' book.
You wake up, and your right eyes itch: all dried as though you cried overnight.
And suddenly, you look at a classmate being unforgettably vibrant.
Jittering around her are harmless butterflies incurring more smiles than horror.
First I saw them─and so, I didn't understand.
On an old enough timeline, I'd be a supernatural aberrant. Yet, as the city's premise ran around scientific advancements, and scholarly desires to understand anything and everything, it was easy enough to be labeled as schizophrenic over a week of tireless persuasion. Now, I have a grandiose pair of eyes, and I've no one to confide with─and I had to play detective.
Over a dilemma where I'm also the perpetrator, and the victim.
Long story short─or a story for another time─I've done something destructive to someone dear.
It only took a push on the solar plexus.
One hand pressed on the chest, and chaos sprawled towards the firmament. Six trillion butterflies, a spectacle only I can see, broke through the stratosphere from the body of a middle school student. And what she awakened to was the world's population networked through her mind.
Speaking in comparison─I'm the vampire, and she has been enthralled.
And if not enough, the reckoning continued until three other irreversible minions were born.
Even worse, I inherited what they were awakened to─and the quest for newfound powers kept getting out of control.
Although they're tamed by now, their abilities remain.
I'm hoping of stability for these four girls who now lead different lives─as I couldn't possibly control them even if I take full responsibility for their actions. It's hard knowing I'm also a teenage dirtbag who's emotions seeth under pressure albeit modeled to be mature. Something about all these: the discrete deviation to normalcy, the butterflies, the mayhem─I'd rather cast them out and think I'm only being attacked by my own rabid imagination.
If only there was an opportunity to avert everything that happened.
Fate though, wasn't a just companion, choosing to rub salt to the wound.
Introducing Primrose Avery and her every shenanigans, an unapologetic endeavor keen on exposing each and every fragment of secrets hidden facets of South High School.
"Hmm, did I…see your lips curl just now?" Underneath the crimson swirl, Primrose's voice resonated. "...Uh, it isn't a laugh, though."
Fluttering below the clock tower, the red admirals crossed through my face. Jitters and the flux of fairy dusts, their bodies bringing about a different dimension. Peer longer and you shall see the meaninglessness of your dull form of flesh and blood.
Life sucks knowing I'm the only one with these eyes.
"If you could make me laugh, alright, we'll date," was the promise I made yesterday afternoon, the exact place we're standing now.
You can no longer sleep during class.
When the homeroom teacher showed her card and moved Primrose next to me, I already knew what kind of vexation I'd feel in the immediate future. You're presented with a dilemma of repeating the same mistakes. Masked as some kind of romantic tomfoolery, the irritation precedes a layer thus─I can only compromise to be playful, or I'd die.
Everyone knows, thus everyone's invested.
Whether they like it or not, teenagers are prone to gossip, thus the buzz around us. I cared because I took notice. Primrose, on the other hand, pressed on without a pinch of care towards their hateful surveillance.
Fairly enough, she's a transfer student.
She doesn't need to follow the standards, and has a proper excuse to fit in as the weird one.
"Hey, Mika…Why did the scarecrow win an award?" Primrose sprang, beaming into an awkward curtail. I tilted my head, asking why, and she answered herself, "Because he was outstanding in his field!"
Look here, I'm not responsible for the joke.
Ask Primrose, or better yet, Screaming Coffee themself.
I was contemplating whether to retort when suddenly, she held onto my arms. Her uniform's linen softly caressed my skin. "Hey, Mika…My chest feels tight."
Uh, the soft and tender feel of boobs, her gentle yet assertive motion of conquest came into play.
I didn't look.
Therefore, I wouldn't describe.
"No, I don't want to cop a feel."
Instantly, I shut her down.
I'd be sorry for leaving someone crestfallen but she deserves to be clowned, too.
All the boys must have been frustrated.
"That's a foul!" Amidst the distinct background chatter, someone's dignified voice erupted. "Cut it out, Primrose."
Second floor of the senior department, left of the clock tower. South High School would be what you call a prestigious
Body pressed over the railings, the student council president quietly watched.
Well, until the indecency surfaced─an act she wouldn't allow for those souls too juvenile for the stimulation.
Talk about hypocritical, though.
"Good morning, Azalea!" While still clutched into my arms, the flamboyant newcomer waved at her. "Mika said he'd treat me over to Giorno's if I can make him laugh."
Hmm.
"Giorno?" Azalea raised an eyebrow, riding the airs of her administrative position. That─or she's being brash. Huff a sigh, and let's ridicule, "That dingy place at the corner of the town?"
Yes, the loony bin of a small food truck business which opens shortly after class.
About forty minutes after the owner has finally come home from his rigid day routine, he has to raise cash in order to sustain a life in the Grid. Hmm, I dunno, maybe it borders between a business and a hobby.
"Customer service is bad, cell reception is mediocre, and the proprietor is a pervert. What do you like about that place?"
Yeah, I suppose─but I went through a lot trying to make something frivolous, work. No, the pervert accusation is untrue but Azalea's belief cannot be rectified at this point. I bothered before, but I no longer do now. Now, now, suit yourself, our bootleg chairperson.
Ah, yeah, I own Giorno's.
Twitch, and twitch! When the wind blew warm, the ultramarine butterflies in her bidding rearranged in hostile motion.
From the second floor, our dearly Student Council president jumped down.
You read it right, she jumped down.
Quite like a parkour, but touched by a graceful aura you'd expect from the holder of the school's highest position. Like a seasoned circus performer, her sleek, raven hair danced in the air as she gracefully landed on her feet, ready to take on the world. It would have been easier to absorb if it was indeed a jester acting at the stage.
"Hello, Primrose! Good morning, too." Azalea pronounced, effervescent, as to why you'd think of manic discord taking over when our eyes met. "Mika…Go to hell, please."