Rin - Change

(I just had a random bout of inspiration with this, so I wrote it.  I don't think it's quite as powerful as I imagined but I still like it a bit.  Slight spoilers for Rin's route and generally unpleasant subject matter.  KSFFWriter@gmail.com)

Change is scary.

I know it.  You could say I'm an expert on it.  Not only sky but changing.  I told Hisao that a long time ago.  It's still true.

But even if it's scary I still need it.  Hisao doesn't like change.  He likes things still.  Or stable, or something.

Things have changed a lot since then.  We dated for a while.  I changed some and he changed some.  He went to a university and I painted.  First at Yamaku and then at our apartment.  Sometimes in my room and sometimes in his room and sometimes in other rooms.

Hisao asked me to marry him and it was okay.  I don't mind calling us husband and wife instead of friends or girlfriend or anything.  Being married isn't different much.

But then things stopped changing.

Hisao was happy.  He said he wanted a calm life.  Calm like grass or like a lake.  It was okay for a while.  I painted some and he did his work and we spent time together.  We did that for five years.

When nothing changes, there is nothing to say.  I painted less and less.  Now I never paint.

Hisao is still happy.  I am not.

That is why I am here now.  This part is easy.  There are always people I don't like.  The kind of person that sees me and only sees my arms.  Or my no arms.  That is the kind of person that will work today.  I haven't done this before, but I know that already.

I met him at a bar.  I was drinking and people watched me.  I use my feet.  He looks okay.  He is tall like Hisao but wider.  I don't think he has that heart thing either.  His muscles are better and he has darker eyes.  It looks like he smiles less than Hisao.  I saw him watching my feet a lot.  There was that look.  It's the look Hisao gets when he sees me.  But this one is different.  It's not warm like Hisao's.  It's hot.  Or maybe cold.  Maybe it's hot and cold.

We talk some.  He doesn't understand what I say.  He only understands enough when I tell him what I will do.  I tell him the things I have to tell him.  It's just once.  I'm married.  I keep talking until it's late at night.

He pays for my drinks.  I had a lot of drinks.  That part was easy but I was drinking because the other part will be harder.

He doesn't live far away.  So we walk together.  His steps don't match mine.  It's like Hisao used to be.  I didn't have enough drinks.   I feel bad.  My head is hot and my stomach is tight.  I don't want to even if I have to.  But I have to.  It reminds me of painting for Nomiya.

I don't talk but he keeps talking.  People do that.  They think they have to have talking happening even if no one listens.

We climb the stairs and go in his apartment.  It is messy and there are beer cans empty.  He starts talking about having wine.  I just sit down on his couch, and then I unbutton my shirt.  He sees me moving and grins.  I don't like his smile.  I can't do all the buttons but he takes over fast.  It takes him a few minutes.  Hisao is better at this.  I try to stop thinking about Hisao right now.

Soon my buttons are open and my bra is off me.  He undoes my pants and removes them.  He says something about my no underwear.  I didn't want whoever I picked to see those.  They are for Hisao only.  I am supposed to be for Hisao only but now I guess I'm not.

I help him take his clothes off too.  It doesn't take as long.

Now I try really hard.  I have to try really hard to do this part even after the drinking.  I don't want it.  I want what might happen from it but I don't want it by itself.  The gold ring on my toe makes me stop for a second but I don't stop for long.  I make myself stop thinking about Hisao.

I use my feet at first.  He likes it.  I have a lot of practice with this.  Then I use my mouth for a while.  When that's done I use my feet until he's ready to do it again.  Then he uses me.

That's what it is.  Using each other.  Sae told me once.  People use each other to be less lonely.  He is using me for that, maybe.  I am using him for the opposite.

After a while we are done.  It takes a couple times until I'm sure I'm done.  He is tired but puts my clothes back on me.  He asks if he can keep my bra.  It's fine.  I have other ones.

Then I am out of his apartment, and alone again.  I walk slowly down the hall and down the stairs.  My eyes hurt.  I don't like crying.  It never feels right.  It isn't what is inside of me.

Usually.

But now it's right.  It's what I want to do.

I cry and I walk.  It isn't far until I get home again.  The lights in the house are off.  I wipe my eyes on my sleeve.  I stand on the doorstep for a long time.  Until my feet hurt.  I want to look normal.  Not like crying or like I'm sad.

I unlock and open the door and there's Hisao.  He was waiting for me in the dark living room.

Usually he smiles.  He hugs me and kisses me.  He is always happy to see me.

He is sitting on the couch, with his head in his hands.  He looks up at me for a while and then just looks back down at the floor.  He saw me standing on the door.  He can see my shirt inside out.  He can tell no bra and maybe he can smell my sweating from earlier.  He knows what happened.

I don't hide it.  That is why I did it.

He says my name but I walk past him and into the painting room.  I close the door behind me.  I can feel it.  Behind my eyes.

I see Hisao's face.  I hear him say my name like he did.  That hurt voice.  Those eyes looking at me.  Different than ever before but kind of the same.  Like he used to be when he went to Yamaku.  Like the world was ending.  I hate it.

I hate it.

It's perfect.

It's what I needed.  I can feel it again.  I sit down and gather the paints, and I pick up a brush in my toes.  The wood clinks against my gold ring, and I stop again.  For longer this time.  I stare at my toes with the paint brush and the gold ring.  It doesn't look as bright as before.  I ruined it.  But I had to.

I had to.

The canvas is blank, and I get some paint.  I put the brush to the canvas and it flows.  It works.  My mind works and my feet work and the painting is starting.  I work hard.  I work fast and my eyes burn and tears fall over my cheeks but I am painting.

Change is scary.

But even if it's scary, I still need it.