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Of all the things I appreciate about having been rescued, being able to look out the window is very high on the list. I hadn't even realized how much I missed being able to see the sky while I was trapped in those dark rooms. It took me a week before I was able to look up at the sky without it hurting my eyes, I'd gotten so used to the darkness.
Sometimes I'm still afraid that I'm just dreaming, that I'm going to wake up and be back there, trapped and tormented and hoping to die.
“Aoba, your heart-rate has spiked,” Ren says.
“Aoba-san, are you alright?” Clear's worried voice interrupts my thoughts, and helps jerk me back into reality.
I don't want to think about that place. I'm free now, that's what's important. I focus on the sunbeam on the floor and breathe carefully. There's no reason to panic. I'm sitting here in my kitchen with sunlight coming in through the window. It's real. I'm safe. Breathe.
“I'm – could you sing?” I manage to ask.
“Of course!” he says, and begins to sing. Clear has the most beautiful singing voice, and somehow every time I hear him sing it calms me down, even if I'm in the middle of a full-blown panic attack. I pick Ren up and hold him, and between Ren's soft fur in my fingers and Clear's soothing voice, I calm down.
By the time Clear finishes his song, I feel fine. I have absolutely nothing to be afraid of here. I'm home and safe and Clear's cooking what looks like it's going to be a wonderful breakfast.
“Thank you,” I say, “I'm sorry, I was just sitting here letting my mind wander, and it went to some bad places. Sorry.”
“Ah, don't apologize!” Clear protests, “It's no trouble, I'm just glad I can do something to help you, Aoba-san!”
Clear is such a weird guy. I don't understand him at all, but somehow I believe that he means it when he says things like that. He's so easy to read, even though I've never seen his face without that ridiculous gas mask.
I don't know why he wears it. Then again, I don't know a lot of things about Clear. I don't know why Clear wears his mask, I don't know why he doesn't seem to know basic things like what an umbrella is for, and I don't know why he called me Master – though thankfully he's stopped doing that ever since I went into a panic attack over it. I still feel kind of bad about that, I know Clear felt really guilty...
“Here you go!” Clear says brightly, putting a plate in front of me, “Koujaku-san told me you like crepes, so I found a recipe. It's more western-style than Japanese, but I thought it looked tasty. I hope they turned out okay, I haven't made crepes before...”
It looks really fancy. There are sliced strawberries and chocolate sauce on them, more like a dessert than a breakfast. Clear hands me a fork and I blink at it in confusion for a second – I can't remember the last time I used a fork , but this would be really hard to eat with chopsticks and it's too messy to roll up and eat with my hands. I cut a piece off with the edge of the fork and take a bite.
Clear always makes delicious food. I'll never tell Granny that I think so, but I think he might even be a better cook than her.
“It's delicious,” I say, “Thank you.”
He leans back in his chair and even though I can't see his face, I get the impression that there are flowers hanging around his head, “Yay! I'm so glad you like them, Aoba-san!”
I eat in silence, though Clear is still looking at me like he expects at any moment I might change my mind and tell him it's awful. Or maybe he's just worried that I might panic again. Who could tell?
“Why do you wear that?” I ask, gesturing at him.
“This?” Clear asks, plucking the sleeve of his coat, “It was my grandfather's. Wearing it makes me miss him less.”
Well, that was unexpectedly heart wrenching, but he completely misunderstood me, “No, I meant... why do you wear that mask?”
“Oh!” Clear says, “Grandfather told me that I should.”
“Huh? How come?” Images flash through my mind of some kind of old paranoid nut job who's convinced that the world is going to end...
“He told me that...” Clear hesitates, and when he continues, his voice seems very sad, “My face is strange and if people see it, they'll be scared of me.”
Wow, that guy sounds like an asshole. I mean, even if Clear's face is hideous, people should keep their mouths shut instead of expecting him to hide it...
“Really? That doesn't seem fair.”
“Fair?” Clear echoes.
“Your face looks how it looks. If other people have a problem with it, it's not like you could change it... you don't have to wear a mask.”
“I don't want to scare anyone!” Clear says, putting his hands on his mask rather defensively, “I've made very good friends here with you and Ren-san and Koujaku-san and Tae-san, I don't want you to see my face and think I'm a monster.”
Okay, now I'm really curious. What on earth could be so wrong with Clear's face that he thinks wearing a gas mask is less scary than his actual face? But he seems so freaked out.
“I'm not going to make you take your mask off if you don't want to,” I reassure him, “But that would never happen. We know you, Clear, we wouldn't hate you no matter what you looked like.”
“You wouldn't?” He sounds doubtful.
I frown, “You don't judge people based on their looks, you judge them on their actions.”
Virus and Trip looked like nice people, after all. The only way Clear's face would scare me is if he looked like them... I shake my head. I don't want to think about them again. It's been three days since I had a real panic attack, I'm not going to freak out in the middle of a normal conversation. I take another bite of food, but all of a sudden the sweetness bothers me, making me think of things that were shoved down my throat...
“Is there any more coffee?” I ask. I need to wash the sweet stuff out of my mouth.
No one is force-feeding me, although they are pretty insistent that I eat regularly. I'm still a little underweight, according to Granny.
“Yes!” Clear says, hopping to his feet, “Would you like cream and sugar in it?”
“No, black is good. Breakfast is sweet enough,” I manage a smile at him.
“Okay!” Clear says, and heads over to the cabinet for a mug. “Pour pour pour~” he says in a sing-song voice. That's another weird quirk of Clear's, narrating his actions like that... I wonder why he does it, but it's sort of cute, and oddly reassuring that I know what he's doing even when I'm not watching him do it.
“Here you go, Aoba-san,” Clear says cheerfully as he puts the mug down next to me.
“Thank you.”
The coffee is strong and bitter, and it's all I need for my emotions to settle down again. I'm getting better at controlling them and finding ways to keep from panicking.
“I am curious,” I say. Clear tilts his head questioningly, and I explain, “About your face.”
Clear seems to be practically radiating nervousness. I feel kind of bad, pushing it when he's obviously not comfortable. I should probably let the subject drop, but now I really want to know.
“You don't have to show me. But I promise, no matter what you look like, it's not going to change what I think of you. You're my friend.”
“Really?! I'm really your friend, Aoba-san?!” He sounds astonished...
“Of course you are.” He didn't already know that? I thought it was obvious, but there are so many things he just didn't seem to know... I reach out and pat his shoulder, “Seriously, you're one of the best friends anyone could ask for. You've done so much to help me - ” I stop, not wanting to elaborate on that. “You're my friend. And I know Granny and Koujaku consider you a friend, too.”
“As do I,” Ren pipes up, “And I feel I should also reassure you that it will make absolutely no difference to me what your face looks like.”
I smile at him and move my hand from Clear's shoulder to Ren's fur.
“Thank you,” Clear says. He hesitates, then in a very small voice asks, “You... really want to see my face?”
I nod, “Yeah.”
“Then...” he trails off, then squares his shoulders and continues, “Then I'll show you, Aoba-san.”
He reaches up to his mask and unbuckles it, then carefully takes it off and places it on the table. He looks up at me.
I blink. Clear's face doesn't look remotely strange. It's actually a pretty attractive face. He has pink eyes, two moles on his chin, and his features are delicate and very pretty. With looks like that, he could be an actor, or the lead in a boy band or something. Why on earth would his grandfather have said his face was strange?
His cheeks get pink as I look at him. "Ah, it's really horrible, isn't it?" he asks, flustered, "I'm sorry, I'll put my mask back on!"
"No, don't do that," I say, and catch his hand as he reaches for his mask, "Your face looks normal to me. I can't tell why your grandfather would have said it was strange."
"It's... normal?" He sounds like he doesn't believe me.
"Yeah," I say, "You've got two eyes, a nose, and a mouth, and they're all in the right place. There's nothing weird about your face at all."
He gingerly touches his face, "It's not weird... you're not scared?"
I shake my head, "I told you already. Even if your face had been scary-looking, I wouldn't be scared of you. I know you're a kind person, Clear."
His eyes fill up with tears. Really, I'd been bracing myself for disfiguring scars or something, but Clear looks just as kind and friendly as I know him to be. I reach over and pat him on the head. "You're a weird guy in a lot of ways, Clear, but you look fine."
"Aoba-san," he says, "Thank you~!"
He's so expressive. I've gotten so used to guessing how he's feeling from the tone of his voice and the set of his shoulders that it's really weird to see his emotions written all over his face like this. I kind of like it, though.
"Aoba-san," Clear says, shifting uncomfortably in his seat, "I'm really grateful that you don't mind my face, and I'd like to hug you, but I know you don't like to be touched, so I won't do it. I just wanted to tell you that you made me happy enough to hug you."
His earnest words make me laugh, "Right now, I don't think I'd mind if you hugged me." He's weirdly adorable, and I'm grateful that he refrained from just hugging me out of the blue.
"You wouldn't?!" he asks excitedly.
"You can hug me," I say. Almost immediately, I regret my choice, because Clear catches me in a bone-crushing hug that knocks the breath out of my lungs.
"Thank you so much, Aoba-san~!" he cries, "I'm so grateful that you consider me your friend and that you don't think my face is scary and that you let me hug you!"
"Can't breathe!" I gasp.
He lets me go immediately, "Ah, I'm so sorry~!"
He looks so distressed, but it's so him that I start to giggle. All of a sudden I can't stop the laughter from coming, and I don't try to hold it in. Clear looks confused, and I keep on laughing until I'm out of breath and my sides are sore.
My giggles finally die down and I gasp for breath. I can't remember the last time I laughed like that.
"Aoba-san, are you okay?" he asks.
It's almost enough to set me off again, though I don't know why. I smile at him, "Thank you, Clear."
“You're welcome!” he says with a smile. I can practically see little flowers floating around his head. Then all of a sudden his face falls and he looks confused, “For what?”
I'd forgotten how good it felt to laugh, but I'm not sure how to say that without making Clear feel sad, so I just smile at him, “For being you.”
He still looks confused, but he smiles back at me anyways, “Who else would I be, Aoba-san?”
The front door opens.
“I'm home!” Granny calls. Koujaku will be with her. He hardly ever lets her go to the store without at least offering to come along and carry the groceries for her. I wonder how they'll react to Clear's unexpectedly attractive face.
“Welcome home,” I call back.
Clear bites his bottom lip and looks nervously at his mask.
“I'm not lying to you, Clear,” I say, “They won't be afraid of you. Come on, let's help them put the groceries away.”
I stand up and offer him my hand. He takes it and gets to his feet, and leaves his mask on the table as we go out to greet them.