Smushed Grapes
Chapter 2

I stared at my computer screen with disbelief. I blinked a couple of times but the e-mail didnít go away. No, I wasnít imagining it. Slowly I read it again.

Dear Nagi kun~*~

Iím writing you this e-mail because Iím too shy to tell you this in person. *^^* I really like you a lot. I think youíre very nice and youíre so smart! Your history project was wonderful. :) Anyways, I was wondering if youíd like to go to a movie with me sometimes? Please say yes. I really want to get to know you better since youíre always so quiet in class.

Love from Rin chan~*~

PS- Thanks for helping with question 5 in chemistry class today. I never would have gotten it right if you hadnít helped me! :)

Vaguely I remembered Rin. A small girl with dark hair always tied up in a ponytail. She sat beside me in chemistry class and was sometimes my lab partner. Whenever I talked to her she always blushed and twirled her ponytail around her finger.

A girl liked me. How odd. Almost as though I was a normal boy.

That thought made me snort. I deleted her message. There was nothing normal about me.

I turned off my computer and sat down on my bed to do some physics homework. Time passed sluggishly and I got nothing done because of that stupid e-mail. I didnít understand why I kept thinking about it. Surely, I couldnít want to go to the movies with Rin chan, could I? Of course not, I was merely flattered. Afterall, no one at school ever bothered to talk to me unless it was homework related. Everyone knew that I was smart so they asked me for help. But outside of that...

I sighed, shutting my physics textbook. So some twit liked me and wanted to go to the movies with me. Big deal. Why should it matter? It didnít. Then why couldnít I stop thinking about it? Who knew? Maybe I was going crazy. I must be spending too much time with Farfarello.


The clock beside me read 7:30. Crawford and Schulderich had left long ago and probably wouldnít be back until late. That meant I could do whatever I wanted. I could talk with whomever I wanted to.

I shoved aside all my unfinished homework and left my room.


Farfarelloís room was pitch black since it had no windows. Heíd broken his lamp as well as the ceiling light in a bout of fierce dementia so I brought a candle with me. I set the lone, white candle down on his dresser, which was scattered with knives and bullets and ropes of paperclips. He liked to make paperclip chains.

He wasnít in his straightjacket. Instead, Crawford had handcuffed both his hands to the headboard. His legs were strapped together with thick, leather straps, ensuring that he would remain in bed.

"Poor Farfie," I whispered, settling down beside the sleeping man.

The flickering flame of the candle cast long shadows over that scarred, ashen face. He looked so fragile and serene, lying there all tied up. Certainly nothing like a psychotic killer. I touched his cheek lightly, the flesh cool and sleek beneath my fingertips. He really was beautiful. If only...

"I donít know what to do Farf," I told him, smoothing down his cropped locks. "I got an e-mail from this girl at school today and itís been bothering me. She wanted me to go see a movie with her sometimes and I canít stop thinking about it. I donít know why since itís not like I want to go with her. Itís so stupid but I keep thinking about it. I wonder what I should do? No oneís ever wanted to go anywhere with me before. I know that Iím just flattered. I mean I donít even like Rin that much. Sheís basically just a twit."

I sighed, pulling my legs up to my chest and hugging my knees. "I really wish you were awake right. It would be much for you to give me advice then."

I smiled slightly at my own little, lame joke, if it could even be called that. Farfarello slept on, wandering in some world far away from me.

Nothing ever seemed that bad when I was with Farfarello. His very presence comforted me. I suppose that was why Iíd spend hours sitting and pouring my heart out to him, whether he was conscious or not. Really, he was all I had. Crawford and Schulderich were too occupied with each other to care about my problems. I couldnít talk to either of them. It was odd that I came to the crazy man to ease my worries instead of to them. But they didnít care.

Maybe Farfarello didnít care either.

I froze, cringing. Hurt welled up at that thought. What if he really didnít care? Farfarello wasnít one for words, he only ranted and his rants never included his thoughts on me. I realized now just how dependent I was on the psycho. I came to him no matter what. Even to tell him about some stupid e-mail Iíd received!

I laughed and it sounded bitter and harsh to my ears. Why should I care what he thought? Why did I come to him day after day, telling his unconscious form about my day and what I thought? When my sleep was tainted with nightmares, why did my feet automatically take me to him? Most of the time he could offer me nothing, being mostly sedated or gagged or bleeding. And when he was conscious he was either too busy raving about all the pain he was going to inflict on God or he was stone-silent.

Why then did the thought of him being apathetic towards me hurt so much?

The white candle flickered wildly and thunder screamed in the distance. A shudder chilled through my body as I stared down at the sleeping Irish man. "What are you doing to me?" I whispered and suddenly the room was cold.

Habit took me by the hand and I slowly spooned myself against Farfarelloís side, cuddling up against his warm body. Only for a few minutes, I told myself.