Lust of Misanthropy

XVII. Void

"Yuck," I muttered, before turning my head to Yuri as she watched me earnestly. "I'll heat up your gift for me, tomorrow morning. I just don't eat at night."

She nodded her head, same euphoric smile stuck to her face.

As each day passes, ever so slowly, Yuri's anomalous joy seems as if it cannot grow stronger than it becomes. I often have passing thoughts upon her relationships with her parents– or anybody apart from the literature club.

She lie, languished and in comfort on the sofa. She held a firm eye on me, as her snd I met each other's gaze, while I approached her after I had finished cleaning up the mess.

I sat down, and put a welcoming hand on her kneecap. She seemed eleviated by my warm embrace. "You look exhausted," I commented.

Yuri tugged her body up to me, and slumped her head down on my shoulder, her left arm softly patted to my chest. With a quick motion, she pulled me down, bound to her light grasp on my body. It seemed like she also positioned my arm to fall into place with the crease in her breasts– lucky me. What an adorable face.

Morning.

"-kun, will you stay here with me?" Yuri pleaded. I suppose I wasn't going to school today.

A notice arrived in the mail that afternoon, one from the school's administration. My truancy wasn't going to be tolerated for much longer.

Yuri was as quiet as she ever was. Clung to my body, her head nuzzled in my shoulder, her hands riding up my body ever so slowly. Her legs wrapped around my sides as I remained prudent while accomplishing my studies on the sofa. Yet another day where her and I enshroud each other in a clung position, reveling in our fervor.

I sat down my pen, and thought for a moment. With a turn to my back, Yuri peaked over my shoulder. She sat behind me, each limb wrapped around my torso. "How's life at home?" I asked, turning back around to continue my work.

The silence notified me that she didn't exactly have an answer to that. Or, at least, not a jovial one.

"I stay in the dark," she spoke monotonously, "Just so I don't have to see what kind of world it's like, the kind where I'm not surrounded by you."

I remained quiet. I felt her cheek press down on my shoulderblade, as she rubbed it passionately to show comfort. "I take things from you sometimes so I can keep them to myself forever; to remind me of the only reason why I should continue to live."

Another session of silence passed. Me? The only reason to live? I could hear her sniffling from behind me. She must have caught on to how miserable her rambling had sounded.

"Why do you care about me?" I asked, almost in a frustrated way. I had to know why Yuri was this obsessed with me, with how bland I am, and with how unhelpful I am.

Yuri held my face, and stared me, a mixture of lust and vehemence. "Six-hundred thousand..." she muttered.

I was about to intervene, and ask what she meant, but my hesitation stalled me further than intended.

"...Six-hundred thousand words I have wrote about you. Six-hundred thousand words summarizing few thousands of points I have made and will continue to make about why I care about you. Every 'and', 'so', 'it' and 'thus'; it all is only a fraction of the plethora," Yuri's grip with her legs tightened around my waist, "Every hair on your body scapes my mind like a thesis I must spend hours on arguing with myself."

Her voice trembled, weakening with every sentence she spoke. "During class yesterday, I put the tip of my dirty balisong inside of me," she said, as her tone began to curl into a more ribald and ecstatic mutter.