Forbidden (A Vocaloid Fanfiction)

Introduce

It's hard to know if I'll ever be okay again.

Every day I got up, showered, put on some random clothes which hopefully didn't smell too bad, smothered myself in Lynx and headed out to the poorly-paid job I had been keeping for the past year since my parents had stopped sending over money, claiming that "They were going to come by and check to see how I was doing". They never did, but then again I hadn't seen them since I was 16 when they decided to live in some other "exotic" country.

I doubted America counted as "exotic".

I was just out of the hellhole that was known as "High School", just to be thrown into another one entirely.

My girlfriend and best friend of several years, who was considering whether she wanted to spend the rest of her life with me, lying unresponsive in a hospital crib, hooked up to life support for god knew how long.

The day at work was quiet, and frustratingly so. I needed something to distract me from the situation Miku was in.

My colleagues could tell that there was something wrong, but never asked me. In a way I was grateful for it, yet at the same time I wasn't. I wanted to talk to somebody who wasn't Rin, Len or Neru, and at the same time I didn't want to remind myself by speaking the words out loud. By keeping it locked up, you're able to think it's just one helluva bad dream, but saying it out loud just lets the reality set in more.

It was almost a relief when the first customer walked in. As though it was ingrained into my muscles I moved over to the tubs of salad and took out a pair of plastic gloves from under the counter. I then looked at the customer straight in her rich brown eyes and put on a smile. Happy worker, happy customer. Simple.

She brushed a strand of her equally rich brown locks out the road of her face and began to order, daintily pointing to her orders. I grabbed a 6-inch Italian and put her choice on it, and put it in the toaster behind me. I leaned against the counter, and waited for it to heat up. Meanwhile, the girl at the counter was counting out her money. I tried not to watch her as she tried to open a compartment on her purse which had gotten stuck. I had to pay attention as the compartment suddenly burst open, scattering coins all over the desk (which doubled as an entrance to the kitchenette I was in) and on the floor on my side.

I laughed a bit, peeling off the rubber gloves and moving to pick up the coins which had fallen. I knelt down on the well-used linoleum flooring, and scooped them up one by one. A single coin had fallen in the area under the desk, and I could see that some coins had fallen on her side as well. I put my hand over it to pick it up - and she did the same thing.

Her hand was really warm. And soft. Kind of sweaty.

She moved her hand - and I swear she left it there for a few more seconds than needed - and I picked up the coin. I stood up and handed all of them to her, and then the toaster pinged. I put on another pair of rubber gloves whilst moving over to the toaster. I wielded a pair of metal tongs and used them to pull the 6-inch Italian roll out, immediately putting it in a paper wrap. She paid for it and went to sit in a corner booth on the other side of the bar. She was alone.

I peeled off my rubber gloves and stayed at the bar. The clock above me ticked slowly, making me glance at it every so often. It was a relief when I was given the call to go home.

The next day, she came again and ordered the exact same thing at the exact same time. She sat in the same booth, and seemed to be continuously typing on her phone. Her eyebrows would always furrow in concentration, and occasionally she'd put the phone down until it vibrated. She'd always leave exactly half an hour after arriving, and she seemed to discreetly take out her frustration on the paper wrapping before tossing it in the bin.

It was a month after she started doing this I noticed her slam down her phone and put her head in her hands. It was yet another quiet day, so I was able to hear a slight sobbing noise come from her booth. I took off the work-supplied apron I was required to wear and hung it up on a hook to the side of the salad bar. She had started shaking, making it more obvious that she was upset. I make my way over to her booth, and sat down across from her.

"Are you okay?" I asked in a quiet voice. She sat up, and wiped away some of the wetness which had collected on her face.

"Yeah, I'm fine." She sniffed slightly. "Just stressed."

"Do you want to talk about it?" I knew how she felt to a certain extent. The whole Miku situation was starting to take it's toll on me.

"Yeah. I'd appreciate that, Kaito." She said, reading my name tag.

So we talked. I found out that her name was Meiko, and she ran a small business which collected money for people who had been in accidents and were in need of money to help them with medical help. I couldn't help but notice how soft and pink her lips looked as she explained that recently people had been starting to con the charity out of their money, saying that they needed more money than they did. The business had started to go bankrupt.

I explained to her about Miku, and how by a freak accident she was now in an unresponsive state which we weren't sure if she'd wake up from. I told her that for the next couple of months her health insurance would cover the costs of her life support, but afterwards we didn't know what would happen. She said that she'd like to see Miku, and see if (although funds were limited) they could help any. I said that I'd help donate to the charity, and help set up fundraisers. She seemed to perk up a bit.

We agreed to meet at my house the next day.