I'm Only Me When I'm With You

Sensitivity

Boris Airay, the former Superstar of Britain, was allergic to chocolate. Alice thought Gowland, his manager, would kill her first with bare-hands—thank goodness he's still level-headed enough to help the hyperventilating, red-faced Boris before anything else.

"Get his feet! We're going back to your flat!"

"Y-Yeah!" Alice fumbled collecting Boris' feet, and whilst ignoring the stares of passerby, they went off. Everything certainly had escalated quickly...

However, the strangeness of Gowland began to be noticeable as Alice watched the man setting Boris on her bed, taking out all kinds of small bottles filled with weird oil. First of all, was this man stalking them? Creep. Secondly, he's very prepared—he even pulled out a cooling pad from his hiking backpack—which Alice just recently noticed he's wearing—as if he's prepared if anything were to happen to Boris. Next point, how the heck did Alice not notice this guy? He's the epitome of suspicious! Wearing a visor hat and sunglasses, bringing a big hiking backpack and hanging on his neck a pair of binoculars.

"That's what you get, idiot. Why don't you just die, huh? HUHH!?" growled Gowland while roughly stuffing Boris' nose with oil-soaked cloth. Grumbling about 'ungrateful mongrel' and something around 'bloody twat', he paused, turned over his shoulder to glare at Alice. "What are you standing there for!? Make some tea, dimwit!"

"Right!" Alice gladly exclaimed, for she rather be as far as possible from the ginger's reach. While blending some tea powder and a bit of Rosella (she heard it's helpful with allergic reaction), Alice gradually felt irritated by Gowland's presence.

...If that foolish manager had been stalking Boris, why didn't he just take that idiot away? Why? This would save everyone's time. At least if Boris killed himself under Gowland's care, Alice wouldn't feel guilty—

'Nah...' she thought to herself, and hated herself for it. 'No matter how I look at it, it'd still be my fault...damn it. Why do I have such a strong consideration!? I'm an idiot!'

There was a thick awkwardness when Alice set the tea for the two of them, Boris feigned unconscious (the prick was saved from a horrible whopping), Gowland said nothing, glaring at Alice all the while.

Unable to hold herself, Alice cleared her throat and asked; "Why don't you just take him away?"

Gowland clicked his tongue. "And he'll run off to kill himself?"

"But you're trying to frame me for murder!" she protested. "You keep acting like it's my fault that I'm trying to keep him alive—as if I'm struggling to kidnap, and have this—this idiot as my pet for some weird celebrity fetishes!" she waved a hand to Boris' direction. She huffed, ruffling her boyish haircut.

They fell silent again, sipping the tea. The third cup was then covered with a lid, as Boris was showing no sign of revival any sooner. Gowland and Alice simultaneously sighed.

"Say, young man," Gowland began, "I apologize for my confounded actions. You see, I've been his manager since he learned to walk. No matter how much I hate this brat's gut, I have inner-built reaction to suspect and sue anyone around him." He grimly said, and Alice flinched a little when he deadpanned at her. "I'll assume everyone around him criminal. There you have it."

"Have what?"

"Explanation of my action—"

"Wrong," Alice slammed her palm onto the table, tapping her index finger impatiently. "What I want is an explanation of why you can't keep Boris Airay from killing himself! And if you're giving up on the idea of taking him back, why on the bloody earth are you still stalking him? Confounded idiot..." she facepalmed in despair. "Do you know how much he eats!? He does nothing to contribute to his own well-being. It's like having a baby that talks fluently and talented with irritating people."

"I understand you, Liddell. I completely understand!" Gowland nodded, crossing his arms. "I think the most frustrating thing is how long he takes showers."

"Mm, showers," Alice nodded. "The scallywag is piling up water and gas bill, see?"

"Not to mention he's completely good for nothing, as he only knows to dance, pose and sing."

"That explains why he needs a quick course of how to spend time," Alice twitched. "What kind of human—one that can't figure things that interest him? No, what kind of life did he have?"

Gowland stared at Alice in silence, considering whether to tell the kid or not, and glancing to where Boris was still unconscious. He sipped his tea empty and then let out a sigh.

"Well, you can guess his life isn't anywhere near a normal child's life," he smiled bitterly. Gowland had such a serious and bitter expression that Alice fell silent in attention. "The day he learned to walk, every seconds in his life was scheduled. Lessons, photo shoots, exercise, practices..."

~.X.~

Sometimes he saw some people sitting around, doing nothing. How? All the time, he had to walk around following those tall people—he sat to listen, or eat, or pose, or putting on make up. After commercial acting, there would be personality lesson, followed by a quick lunch, then memorizing his lyrics while getting to the photo studio. After photo shoot they would drive an hour to get to recording location, he could sleep during the ride. After that they would ride home for some hours and he could sleep some more, and when he got home, he would have to exercise and eat, then go to another lesson.

So he didn't understand why would there be people sitting around doing nothing.

Sometimes he could see others eating something and said; "Hey, this tastes good!"

And he looked down on his food. Why? His food tasted nothing.

Sometimes he would join the meeting and got prep-talk about keeping up his good work. Good work? He was just doing the exactly the same routine, only with changing lines and expressions.

He had to put a big smile for fan-meeting. He had to practice sad expression for sad music video, he had to use brighter and louder voice for happy songs, and so on and on.

"Boris, you're the perfect superstar, and you will stay that way," that tall man who always led the meeting would timely reminded him. "You will be a superstar in every waking moment in your life, you will act accordingly, a perfect one for this great nation."

If he had to be a superstar in every waking moment of his life...then he wasn't a superstar when he's not awake?

Then...can he just...sleep forever?

~.X.~

The crimson light of sun set pierced through his sleep. Boris slowly opened his eyes and stayed still, staring at the ceilings emptily. A small smile grew on his face, as every time he was reminded that this was how it feels to do nothing. It felt odd. To think that he didn't have to do anything after this or that, because he had no 'this or that' planned for him.

...Wait a minute. Boris narrowed his eyes, recollecting the recent events. He abruptly sat up and glared around, only seeing Al and Julius eating dinner consisting of radish soup and garlic bread and chips. Al seemed to broke his glasses again, judging from the tape between the bridge. Julius glanced coldly at him.

"Oh, you're awake." Said Al lightly, grinning. "You alright? Maybe you should try that Rosella tea, I heard it's good for allergic."

"Where's Gowland?" Boris set his feet off the bed and took the cup set by Al's bed. He felt a bit relieved—maybe he was dreaming about his manager? What a nightmare!

"Ah, he left," Al said, looking rather happy than he had been the past few weeks. "He told me that he would give me some money to take care of you. Ahh, if only he had been doing that instead of stalking us and nearly strangling me to death! Now life would return to normal a bit, right, Julius?"

Julius snorted indignantly. "You still missed a whole day of lectures. We won't be sharing most of our classes anymore, you have to join the follow-up lectures with other people." He glanced again at Boris, blaming the bloke.

Al sighed in defeat, but then tried to bright up that his glasses gleamed. "Well, new people. Anyways, you feel better now, Airay?"

Boris emptied his cup, and, for the first time, he voluntarily and whole-heartedly grinned. "Never better."

~.X.~

From then on, Boris had to put on disguise as an emo-hipster-looking guy (he wore such a thick glasses and emo-bangs) and was free to go out when Al and Julius had lectures. He was still enjoying himself of being unemployed braggart, taking time to look around or wasting time at the diner for their cheap stale beer.

Moving on from him, Alice, as Julius had informed, had to go for follow-up lectures. It was mandatory, since she's in her last semester. She had known some students, so it was fairly easy to blend in. The follow-up members were mostly professional slackers and desperate students, and their number changed indefinitely everyday. Going for a follow-up lecture meant she wouldn't be catching up to the current lecture, so she would be stuck with some same people until she graduated.

"Liddell!" the robotic professor called, looking impatient. "Monrey had finished your auto-car project yesterday, so you don't need to do it from scratch, but you need to partner up with someone else to program a new android for the auto-car."

Alice frowned, fixing the place of her glasses on her nose. "Really? Well, that's kind of fair, I guess. So I can partner up with anyone?" she turned to see the rest of the students, who mostly gave her apologetic smile. "Ah, okay then...Anyone single?"

The heads turned to the back row where an albino, looking entirely surprised and annoyed, was sitting. Alice grinned and walked up, offering a handshake, the other hand trying to fix her glasses frame which was now slightly tilting from the thick tape.

"Al Liddell. Pleasure to meet you."

The albino stared at her extended hand and slightly shook his head. He had crimson eyes and round glasses, kind of reminding her of Harry Potter. "Peter White, pleasure is mine." He cleared his throat, and shifted a bit too far away to give her a place to sit. Feeling slightly weirded out, she shrugged and sat. He quickly swiped through his tablet and showed his auto-car. "This was my project...and this here's the specifications."

Alice skimmed down everything in a moment, and then, slightly taken aback, turned to Peter. "You made this car on your own?"

"Not really," he said, apparently a little irritated. "I'm here merely to complete a company's request. They gave me the basics. I had to start the semester late since I was administered recently."

She gleamed, impressed. "Oh, but you finished it on your own, which is very impressive! The specs are also quite balanced, and you certainly have a great taste for the finishing." She said, her finger swiping back and forth between the specs and the car image.

Peter seemed to be taken aback, but pleased, smiling with a tint of blush. "Thank you. This car can easily apply the latest Lollipop Android, but I suppose we have to program one on our own."

"Well, professor said we can use Android Runtime, so let's start from that and expanding the rest." Alice hummed, again, irritated by her unbalanced glasses. She couldn't stop fixing her frame.

"Certainly." Peter said gently, and watched her taking out the laptop. "Oh, is that personal built?"

"Yes, my baby born from scratch," Alice snickered. "Though I usually left him home. Argh, my glasses are driving me crazy." She grumbled, pressing the tape which was the only thing that kept her glasses together.

"Yo Liddell, how many times do you have to break your glasses?" another student sneered jokingly, patting her back. "You need a new one, from titanium or something, mate." He passed.

Peter hummed. "What happened to them?"

"These?" Alice pointed at her glasses. "I had a fight and the bastard punched me in the face."

"Right, probably tripped." Some other students laughed, and Alice told them to shut up.

After a while, everyone began to concentrate on their own project than no one had been passing around their desk anymore. Peter was encoding and Alice designing on his tablet, using a stylus. She gradually grew tired of her glasses, and took them off, setting them aside.

"There are actually titanium glasses." Peter said, not taking his eyes off the monitor. "It's quite pricey, however."

"I have no plan on buying expensive ones," Alice admitted. "I don't really need glasses to see, but my face is the problem here." She shrugged, eyes still on her design.

Then Peter decided to glance, and he stopped in motion, as the image of beauty beside him was burned into the spectacular hard-disk called his brain. Forever.

The albino, then, albeit his neck didn't feel like moving, forced himself to look at the laptop—glaring at it—and continued his work. He chuckled.

"What?"

"I thought I had problem," he took off his glasses as well. "Looks like I'm not the only one?" he smiled.

Alice raised her eyebrows, grinning. Peter was also beautiful—but Alice knew that he's a real boy, judging from the jaw and toned chest that's visible from his white shirt. She had been wearing a jumper or something to cover her torso, so no one could tell if she had something on her chest.

So, no. Peter was beautiful, but she could openly say that he's quite manly.

"I don't see the problem, actually. You're very handsome, White." She complimented earnestly, and returned to the screen. "If others mock you for looking like a woman, they're just jealous of how handsome you are. But I can see that it's a prescribed glasses you're using."

She didn't notice that her words shook Peter White very much. His neck grew red, rising to his face and branching to his ears, lips a straight line. He's often mocked for his albinism—people thought he's a cosplaying freak or an artificial douche. But this person contradicted those people. He quickly controlled his lack-of-speech and returned to his work, clearing his throat.

"Isn't it kind of weird for a guy to think other guy is handsome?"

Alice hummed boredly. "Nonsense. That's sexist. Besides, I'm only stating my mind. I think you're very charming, Peter White. Well, only a charming person can work on such a wonderful auto-car...haha!"

Peter had to excuse himself to run to the toilet and spent some moments squealing like a fangirl, completely not listening to Alice's last line about his auto-car.

~.X.~

Boris glanced at the clock in the intersection; Al wouldn't be back until evening, and he's explored the small town. He was still memorizing the bus route, so he hadn't explored further, and was running out of interest very soon. He wanted to snack around, but the majority of the sweets were chocolate-related, as they were doing a sale for the remnants of Valentine's day—and he didn't want to risk dying like an idiot.

He gave an irked stare at the boxes of chocolates piled in front of a shop.

'If I were to die, I will choose how I do it.' He thought to himself, and made a promise with that thought.

He heard something, and noticed a coffee shop near Al and Julius' campus was swarming with crowd. Curious, he approached the shop and noticed inside that the crowd was watching Julius Monrey, playing his violin. He felt that he had heard this melody somewhere, but he didn't know the title.

Apparently the crowd were Julius' college acquaintances. When the navy-head finished playing, they cheered and clapped their hands.

"Thanks a mighty lot, brother!" one of them said, waving his smartphone. "Now we only need to adjust it with my game!"

Julius, tired, gave a reluctant smile and tried to shrug off his acquaintances, thanking the shop owner for lending the instrument, and tried to exit the shop with such a struggle. Freed from the crowd, he took the outside air and sighed in relief.

"What was that music title?" Boris asked, and Julius flinched in shock, shame-faced.

"Y-You were watching..." he gritted his teeth. "It was La Campanella."

"Why can't they download that from the internet..." Boris began to follow Julius from behind, noticing that he's heading to their flat.

"Well, they need to see the movements of a person playing that piece—the fingers, the posture and all." The navy-head shrugged, and glanced over his shoulder with a scowl. "Enjoying freedom now, are we?"

"A bit bored." Boris shrugged, and they stopped when the crossing light was red. He then noticed the instrument shop beside them. "I want to learn an instrument, then." He said, sticking himself to the glass, staring at the guitar. His fake glasses nearly crushed. Julius had to pull him back.

"Don't stick your face to the glass like that, it's disgusting."

Boris huffed, adjusting his glasses, but then groaned, taking it off. "They're making me dizzy."

"Don't take them off!" Julius hissed, snatched the glasses and shoved them to Boris' face again right when a couple of girls were passing by. He looked around, hoping no one saw that. "You'll get used to it. Unless you want people to freak out and go back to your super life." He threatened.

Boris glared at Julius, vice versa. He scoffed, and then entered the instrument shop. Julius sighed, and was about to walk away when Boris got out again to drag him in.

"Don't get the wrong idea. I don't need your company or anything, but I don't know which will be a good guitar." Boris said, flustered and irritated.

Julius mentally groaned. "How pleasant." He grumbled as the shop's doorbell chimed.

~.X.~

Peter was in every follow-up lectures Alice had, so she didn't have to be alone when they moved class. She couldn't help but notice the albino's quirks; he had germaphobia, so he refrained from friction or nearly any physical contacts with other—and stood quite far from other people, as if uncomfortable to breathe the same air. However, it seemed that he didn't mind her presence that much.

She cackled when he pulled out a napkin to wipe his can of milk tea and the cover of his microwave tv lunch. Peter looked up at her with a shameful frown, but he then pulled out a bottle of sanitizer to sanitize his hands.

"You're hilariously adorable, Peter White." She clamped her mouth feeling that her canned coffee was heading to her nose.

Peter sulked. "Why do you like calling me with my full name, anyway?"

She hummed in thought. "It's odd to call you 'White', I suppose?"

"Then, you can call me Peter." He smiled. "I'll call you Al, to be fair,"

"Deal. But why the germaphobia?"

Peter deadpanned. "I'm an albino—doctors told me that I am very susceptible to disease and germs, generally alien remnants out of my body."

Alice nodded with a frown. "I see. Well, that's a load of barnacles." She teased, to which Peter pouted. "I mean, I am a believer that if you believe that something will make you sick, then you will be sick. If you believe otherwise, then it will happen so. Being touched can be healing, you see."

The albino gave a very doubtful stare. "Touching is a great way of transmitting germs, Al. My skin is very sensitive, doctors said. I can't stay under the sun for long."

She was a bit taken aback, and smiled wryly. Setting down her can of coffee, taking a pinch of the hand-sanitizer on the table, she wiped both her hands.

"Then, if I do this, it's fine to touch you, right?" she smiled eerily, creepily extending her hands to reach Peter's face. Peter's eyes widened in fear as he slowly backed off on his chair.

"Uhm, I am...not sure about that..." he laughed nervously, glaring at her hands. "Al, can you please, stop...?"

"I am going to kill you, Peter..." Alice dramatically hissed. "I am going to kill you with germs...because hand-sanitizer only works for 99,99% and that 00,01% germ will kill you. Doesn't that sound silly, now, mate?"

Peter whimpered, feeling that he might feel on his back, which meant he would fall onto the floor and he would catch more germs. Groaning, he straightened himself and let her hands touched his face.

He shuts his eyes tight, and waited. He could feel...something soft and warm. He could feel her fingers stroking his cheeks gently and he felt really...he felt...he...

"What is this? Some sort of ritual? Facial massage?" Elliot March asked curiously, taking a seat beside Alice. Peter opened his eyes, glaring at Elliot for ruining his life at the moment.

"Peter is afraid of germs, so I touch him." Alice explained.

Elliot laughed. "You know that explanation doesn't make a bloody sense." He stared at her for a while. "Your glasses look worse than before."

"I'll have to buy a new pair, I suppose. Right, March, we're going to have the same lectures for Programming subject, huh? Why did you have to go for the follow-up?"

"Ah, that, nothing special. I was playing Pokemon and I completely forgot about everything else..."

"That is very you, March."

Peter muted everything he heard, as his eyes were following Al's hands which were animatedly moving while speaking. He eyed the dark blonde with a subconsciously longing gaze. For the first time, he felt warmth, and his insides were burning with want.

That person across him was shining. That person across him was the only thing clean in this world. And Peter longed for Al Liddell's touch.

But they're both boys. Not that he cared for himself, but what about Al? What if Al was weirded out by his unnatural affection? What if Al avoided him for that?

So, clenching his teeth, cursing on Elliot March's presence, he silently ate his lunch, possibly taking his heart into grave.

~.X.~

Boris was humming as he walked behind Julius, hugging his new guitar inside the suit. Julius had chosen a Spanish-made one and he said he would help Boris to set the tone. Boris said that it wasn't like he needed Julius' help or anything, so he'd allow the guy to touch his new guitar. He could learn playing it from watching YouTube.

"Al should be back around this time," Julius said, looking at his wristwatch before they crossed the road and finally arrived to their flat. They noticed the light on the second floor was still off, but the third floor's light was on.

Boris hummed. "A new neighbor?" he said. Julius shrugged.

The auburn-haired male nearly dropped his new guitar when they saw Gowland on top of the stairs.

Julius stood there, between Boris and Gowland, and proceeded to unlock his flat-room, but didn't get in before saying;

"If you're going to kill each other, please be considerate of others and not cause commotion." He said, and closed the door.

Boris and Gowland simultaneously glared at the door that Julius just closed.

"That bloke needs his priority sorted." Said the ginger old man spitefully.