Page 2 of Beneath Cherry Blossom Memories

The interviewer seems less than interested in our origin story, which,fuck youlady.

I’m irritable over this damn interview, and I keep having unwelcome thoughts. I wish I could say that my antisocial behavior was a recent development. The truth is, I’ve always been this way. Most people who grow up with as many siblings as I have are pretty needy. I’ve got two brothers and two sisters, which makes me one of five kids. I’m also smack dab in the middle of everyone. I’m supposed to be desperate for attention, but I got comfortable being in the background because I don't have any other choice.

This one time, I dropped a rock on my pinky toe while playing in our backyard. I’m pretty sure I was about five or six when it happened. I remember looking down, seeing the nail dangling there and blood oozing out onto the concrete path that led to our pool. I don’t know how I dropped it or what I was doing holding such a heavy ass rock, but it annihilated my toe. I didn’t cry or call for help. I just stood there, watching it bleed. Eventually, I got hot or thirsty—something—and went inside. Mom saw it and freaked out because I guess I looked pale.

My pediatrician ran a series of tests on me because she deemed it abnormal that a kid that age wouldn’t cry over such a bad injury. I cried when they stuck the needle in my toe to numb it so they could remove the dangling nail. No one seemed to care about that. I learned early in life that being dramatic didn’t get me anything. Being quiet seemed to work fine on its own. Which later became a fucking nightmare because Ilikebeing quiet. I like keeping to myself. It’s just how I am.

Eli got that.

He gotme.

I wince, forgetting where I am and that Ishould notbe thinking about Eli right now.

“Anything you want to let the viewers know?”

Yeah, that we aren’t ever doing this again.I want to say that, but I don’t.

I let the guys wrap up. They tell her upcoming tour dates and where to find our merch. As soon as the camera shuts off, I jump to my feet. The woman gives me a strange look, but my bandmates aren’t phased. TheyknowI hate this shit. With a mumbled thank you, I leave the studio's too-small room and jet outside. The air is cool and crisp, thanks to the fall weather finally rolling in. I breathe in deep, closing my eyes while tugging my hair free. I can smell my conditioner immediately, and a painful stab hits me in the chest.

I only started using the brand because Eli told me it was good and would keep my hair healthier. But all it does now is remind me of all I’ve lost. It reminds me that last year happened. No one’s forgotten, and neither have I.

Ilove you.

Gently brushing the tip of my finger over his thick eyelashes, he grins beneath me, knowing I’m a weirdo and I like the way it feels.I love you.I think it again. I kiss his eyes. I think I’m going to tell Eli tonight. Working up the courage to say it has taken me months because whenever we can be together, it’s usually spent enjoying our time. I hate that he’s always gone. Sometimes, the distance feels like too much. Sometimes, I wonder if we can make it. But when he’s here, and I can feel his heartbeat thumping into my bare chest, those fears quiet down.

I love you, Elijah.Tonight. Tonight, he’s going to know that I want this forever.

“This song sucks,” I mumble to Kelly while she dances in the kitchen.

I moved in with her about eight months ago after realizing that I was letting myself fall into a depression. She has a broad taste in music, but this song is kicking me in the balls at warp speed. For the past two days, she’s been playing it on repeat, driving me crazy. Some indie artist she found on TikTok. The words are hideously accurate, and I hate it.

Her highlighter yellow and green hair is up in twin messy buns. Wearing a pair of my boxers and Michael’sA Flock Of Seagullsshirt, she ignores me and flips pancakes. Kelly is a clothing thief. It doesn’t matter who you are; if she likes it, it’s hers.

“I can feel your heartbeat while you’re kissing someone else,” she sings loudly, and I want to strangle her.

Swallowing my bitterness, I shuffle over to the coffee pot, dodging a random suitcase in the middle of the floor. We’ve been packing up for the tour—well, I have—Kelly just started. Out of all of us, Kelly is the least organized, which I discovered rather painfully when I moved into her two-bedroom apartment. I’ve lost more things than I’ve found in this twilight zone. But living with her has been good for me. I have this thing where I isolate myself when shit is bad, and Kelly doesn’t know the meaning of the word. She’s removed my door handle a few times, so I can’t lock myself inside my room.

“Please,” I beg her when the song starts over. “It’s terrible.”

Holding the spatula mid-air, she narrows her eyes on me. “Do you really think so?”No.It’s a good song with a great hook. Sighing in defeat, I shake my head. “Then stop complaining and sing along. I made you chocolate pancakes.” She points at the plate of them.

“Thanks.” I offer her a small smile, which means a truce between us.

“The dudelettes want to meet up at the studio for a quick sesh later.”

I snort at her affectionate nickname for our bandmates. “Sure. I need to run by my parents' house in a bit to make sure they’re still okay with watching Helios.” Speak of the devil. He appears at my ankles, rubbing them affectionately in a figure-eight motion.

I squat down to scratch at his ears while sipping my coffee. “How’s your dad?” she asks, turning down the song.

“He has good days and bad days. My mom is a tough lady, though. I don’t know that I could put up with him.”

“You do what you need to when you love someone.”

I don’t say anything.

Sometimes Kelly spouts off shit that hurts far too much to acknowledge it, so I don’t. You’d think that was true about love, that you’d do what was needed. That you’d sacrifice and make compromises, give and take equally. That if your person needed you, you’d be there. Well, I hate to say it, that’s a fucking fantasy reserved for special people. And I’m not one of them.

My dad has always had a bad back, but now that he’s sixty, it’s taken a turn for the worse. He’s crankier than usual due to the pain, and this most recent surgery has him bedridden for a while. Mom is tasked with ensuring he doesn’t cuss out his physical therapist, who comes twice a week to the house. It’s not the most cheery of places lately, but my baby sister Nyx loves Helios and still lives at home. She will be the one watching my fur child while we’re gone. I still have to show my face and pretend to ask for the fifth time, though.

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