The Tales of Vast

Chapter 2: Happy Birthday, I Guess September 19th, 2022

           "You don't think the headband's over the top, do you?" Iyo asked, tucking the strands of white hair behind the rest of his black hair, pulling it all together with an auburn headband, which accommodated to his irregularly pale skin, and contrast-coloured hair. He was dressed in a frilly white, sleeved dress shirt, dark pants, and formal leather-heeled shoes.

            Maybe the band was silly, by a lot... It doesn't match the formal style I need. Iyo frowned into his long mirror, turning to his side, to admire his profile. Ew. Everyone said he was skinny, but he couldn't see it. He hated his body; the way it was shaped, the way he was curved in some places he didn't want to be, the way he wished he'd weighed more so he wouldn't look like a stick. Yet at the same time, he didn't want to gain too much weight. What if people hated him because he changed too much? What if they talked about him behind his back? (More than he knew they already did) Then he'd really hate himself. For now, he could do nothing but wallow in his own self-pity, too worthless to do anything for himself.

           "I think you look very nice. Such a dapper little man, aren't you?" Rory teased lightly from his best friend's bed. Rory had been lying on his stomach, reading through a short story Iyo had been working on. It wasn't bad at all, but it could use a bit of grammar and spell check. Overall, it was not something that Iyo should have been so bummed out over, as he was.

             I know it's not perfect, but it was fun to write, Iyo had muttered one afternoon after Rory read over an entire short story. They were all based around their town- the main characters obviously being Rory and Iyo, and the cast had been filled up by the fellow townsfolk. Each little story felt so vaguely familiar, it sort of felt real to Rory. 

              Iyo tried to hide his blushing cheeks from the compliment as he immediately raced to his mirror and pretended to apply more eye liner. He had often embraced his more feminine side by wearing eyeliner, sparkly lip gloss, and sometimes mascara. He thought he was rather good at makeup, and he always felt so good when the girls around town would ask for makeup help or guides. Though he knew they were just complimenting him, not actually asking, he still felt happy about it.

            Rory, however, didn't wear a lick of makeup. He had grown up believing it was more of a lady's thing, however, he never batted an eye when Iyo chose to wear any, as it wasn't any of his business what his friends did or wore. "If he wants to wear clothing like that, or wear makeup, that is his own choice. You aren't to boss others around, Rio. Everyone is entitled to one's own opinions." Rory's father would tell him, reminding him to be kind to others, even though he thought otherwise.

           He wouldn't have wanted to tell Iyo that, anyhow. He was very lucky to have an amazing friend like him, and he couldn't risk losing him. He was sure Iyo felt the same.

           "Gosh. What time is it? We've gotta go. Where's the time gone?" Iyo yelped, bounding back towards his bed to retrieve his phone and wallet. 5:23. They needed to be at the mayor's office by 6, no earlier, no later. The mayor had invited everyone to celebrate his 49th birthday with him today, and Iyo was to recite a speech in his honor. Iyo had a way with words. His English had improved greatly (miraculously, even, despite the short period of time. He had all of his writing to blame for that), save for a few frequent mistakes now, but other than that, he was very charismatic and could get almost anyone to agree with him.

             Maybe that was why he was popular amongst the townsfolk. Who knew, with Iyo. 

             There would be an awful lot of people there tonight. Though their town wasn't large, they still had a nifty amount of people amongst it. Everyone knew everyone, so it often made Rory a bit antsy when he attended any of their events. What if he did something stupid in front of them? What if they stood too close, or they coughed at him? His dad wouldn't be attending, but God forbid he comes home with some virus from the party. He and his dad wouldn't be able to take that. Rory's eyes started to hurt. His vision blurred a bit.

             "Rory, did you hear me?" Iyo piped up, looking in his friend's direction, his eyes boring into Rory's direction with an obvious air of worry. Rory's head snapped up, and he found himself making eye contact with Iyo, who had apparently taken off his headband, and replaced it with a loose French braid. "Repeat that?" Rory asked, closing the makeshift book, and he stood up to put it on the writing desk across the room.

           "I asked if you could see my skin patches through the concealer." Iyo leaned over his bed, pointing to where the patches used to be. Rory couldn't see them, hardly. No matter how many times people gushed about how pretty the patches caused by his piebaldism made him look, Iyo still felt so insecure because of them. They made him look 'different and inhumane', as he often said, so on most days that he hadn't felt his boldest, he'd cover them up, and hide his white hair in a ponytail of some sort.

            "I can't see them, Iyo," Rory responded, brushing a loose strand of hair behind his friend's ear. He could see some white, however, it was best to pretend he couldn't, that way they could leave for the party sooner. He opened his mouth to comfort his dysphoric friend, however the bedroom door swings open, and in came Toma.

             "Momma says you two needs to come downstairs, 'cause we gotta go if we're gonna get there on time." He piped up, clinging to the doorway, a big smile plastered on his face. Rory made his way towards him and bent over on his knee. Toma's tie was looped around his neck messily, and his hair flew up in all directions. Though it gave him a cute boyish appearance, it simply wouldn't do for the party.

              Rory runs his hand through the boy's hair and quickly fixes his tie. "We'll be down in a second, thank you for the message, Toma." He murmurs, rubbing a finger across Toma's cheek, rubbing what was either dirt or chocolate off his face. Toma pulled away laughing, scrubbing at his face to get himself clean by himself, before darting around the corner and raced downstairs. Rory smiled to himself.

          He had never been too fond of children, with their uncleanliness and such, however, sometimes he had wished he wasn't an only child, so he could have a little brother of his own. Someone to look up to him in the way that Toma did Iyo. But alas, he had no siblings, just his father and late mother. He sometimes had a pet cat, though she wasn't his; she was just a stray who often slept in his garden. Other than that, no one else.

           As Rory dazedly made his way downstairs, Iyo following close behind, he thought about his family. He hadn't had much and as for his mother- well, he hadn't remembered when she died, for obvious reasons. He didn't remember having her around, either unless you counted the fake memories he had made as a replacement. His father often mentioned her though when he misbehaved. "Put your glasses on, what would your mother think of you?" "Wash your hands before supper, your mother would be very disappointed in you." He hadn't enjoyed causing problems, and learned from his mistakes quickly, so as not to have his mother disappointed. He figured his mother must have been a very uptight, stable woman- and often invented little memories of her that suited that. 

            What would my family be like if she was still here? He thought to himself, grip tightening on the banister. Maybe things would be different. Maybe he wouldn't be such a germaphobe recluse, maybe he wouldn't like gardening. Maybe he'd be a different person, but all he could think about was how he was sort of secretly glad everything was the way it was now and no different.