A\N: As much as I hate writing characters who are "16 in dis…" [sic] And motherfuck. Everybody. On this archive. Listen to Beirut. LISTEN. Ok. So now some actual authors' notes, since I don't want to stick them in at the end. First and foremost, this is not meant to be a ~*~*~super continuous~*~*~ story. It's just a collection of thoughts and feelings. That being said, when Seishin is reflecting on Toshio's girlfriend, he wants to switch places with her; and receive Toshio's affection. Not turn into a girl. And the "thing" he buys. Use your imagination. That is all.

He had begun to notice certain things about Toshio Ozaki.

They were things that, in themselves would be entirely ordinary; a smile, a casual wave of the hand. But when Toshio was the one smiling at him, things had seemed different somehow.

These things had made him uncomfortable.

He had tried to draw Toshio's smile. Sneaking the paper away from his house was difficult; typing paper was a precious commodity. He snuck away to the church. The paper was carefully laid across the top of an old bible. It had taken him a while to start. Everything about the task seemed difficult. In the end, it had turned out rather ordinary; not like Toshio's smile at all. He had opted to write about it instead. The paper was shoved into the bible that he was working on top of.

The following day at school was equally difficult. They had moved seats, and Toshio had chosen to sit in front of him. It was difficult to keep focus, when the sun broke through the windows. Toshio's hair was faintly illuminated.

He had almost blushed when Toshio's fingers met his. He had dropped his pencil, and his friend attempted to retrieve it.

Often times, he had found himself wishing that it hadn't stopped there. He had wished that Toshio would take his hand and draw him in. (His cologne would be intoxicating, of course,) and then Toshio would slip his hands underneath Seishin's shirt, and gently tug it off. The school uniforms were rather constricting, so obviously he…

He'd fantasize about things that were never meant to be: children that he and Toshio would have, a house that they could live in, a movie that they should have seen together. And at the end of every single fantasy, he had concluded the same thing.

Toshio was his friend. It was hard to tell him about his thoughts. It was harder still to explain these things to his mother and father.

So he didn't.

He found himself increasingly drawn to the solitude of the abandoned church. He couldn't bear to think about Toshio while he was looking at the other boy. But it had happened anyways, regardless of his own wishes.

And he had gotten a cold stare from Mrs. Ozaki because of it. Did she know?

Seishin was not brave or strong. So he did not know why he suggested it in the first place. Let's run away. And Toshio had agreed. That alone had made his heart flutter. But then he had realized that even in the "big city," Toshio would never be his.

He would find another girl. One who was remarkably similar to the girl dangling from his arms now; in fact, they were all the same. Each and every girl he dated was someone whom his parents disapproved of.

It wasn't like she cared about him in the least. Seishin had always seen her as cold. She used Toshio for his money. And the… things… they did in Toshio's room.

He wished he were her. Toshio's gentle hands on top of his. Long kisses when the lights were out.

She hadn't even made him a valentines' chocolate. The one on Toshio's desk had been a gift from Seishin. He had come to school very early to place it there. Before anyone else arrived.

And she'd taken credit for it anyways.

That day, he had refrained from going home with Toshio. He took the bus to the end of the line. Past Sotoba, past Mizobe. He was in some small city. No one knew him there.

It was easy to purchase the book. He had not felt any regret for doing it. The underside of Toshio's bed housed similar reading material.

Though it wasn't quite the same.

He left it underneath the creaking floorboard of the church. It, like the drawing of Toshio's smile, was easily forgotten.

Toshio had always asked him for the most outlandish things: comfort, food, and a place to sleep. It was strange. It seemed like Toshio always asked for more.

He had already foregone the conclusion that his love would bear no fruit.

And regardless of his own volition, he'd continued to lust after Toshio.

Oh, I'll move for you.