[Short Story] Rain-Sheltering Literature Club

*This short story is an entry for a 5,000-character BL novel project using three specific themes.

Boris Vian supposedly said that there are only two things important in life. A lovely girl and the music of Duke Ellington. Everything else is ugly because it is.
I think he doesn't get it.
What life needs is Lumonde.
The delicate crepe layers that crumble with a light, crispy texture are gently wrapped in cocoa cream.
You should read Le Monde while eating a Lumonde. You should boldly spill the crepe crumbs over an article lamenting the decline in the number of French speakers. Like a broken world map.
Let a house mouse lick your fingers stained with cocoa cream.
The world is perfect.
If you can open the Lumonde wrapper correctly.

...That was the poem that Doi-senpai from the Literature Club read on stage during the freshman orientation, and by the time May arrived, he had become a 'Box Man'.

The high school I enrolled in allows casual clothes and has loose school rules. Even so, surely one shouldn't be able to attend class while inside a cardboard box.
I think Senpai puts the box over his head after arriving at the club room. Rather than getting into a box.
In the Literature Club room, which only has Doi-senpai and me, it's hard to deal with when one person is inside a box.

"Don't mind me."

No, no, I do mind.

"I just want to try being Kobo Abe's Box Man."

There are two slits, one in the middle and one about a quarter of the way from the top of the box. Senpai is looking outside through them.
Since Senpai is sitting on the floor right now, I think he's looking at me through the middle slit.

"Doi-senpai. Where did you find that? Such a huge cardboard box."

Senpai named a suburban electronics retail store. It seems to be a box for a single-person-sized refrigerator.
It's so reinforced with packing tape that I can't read the writing on the sides.

"Even though we're in the Literature Club, you can't write if you're in a box, can you?"
Senpai countered my complaint.
"You're the one who doesn't really have any intention of writing, aren't you? Why didn't you join the soccer club? You were scouted, after all."

I was a little surprised that Senpai knew I had been scouted by the soccer club.
Instead of answering that I got injured in my third year of junior high, I gave my impressions of Boris Vian's work.

"Froth on the Daydream was really fairy-tale-like, wasn't it? Like eels coming out of the water faucet."
See, Senpai, I'm motivated to do Literature Club activities.
I had never read novels other than the narrative passages in entrance exam Japanese tests, but I've been reading quite a bit lately.

"I read The Box Man too, but isn't that a story about a foot fetish?"

"It's a story about how to keep your distance from society."

"But isn't it messed up to say that the legs of a boy before his voice changes are good?"

"Was that written in there?"

"It was, definitely."

I wish I could have asked, 'So, what are you trying to keep your distance from by getting into that box?'
The school-wide broadcast interrupted my words.

"A heavy rain warning has been issued. All students, please return home immediately. The central entrance will be locked at 17:00. I repeat..."
Outside is a spring storm.

I stood up.
"Let's go home, Senpai."

"You go home first."

No, no. That's impossible, right?
I peered into the box through the middle slit. The inside of the box was dark, and I couldn't even tell if I had made eye contact with Senpai.
"Let's go home together. There are only ten minutes left until the final departure time."

Senpai walked down the stairs precariously while wearing the box. His lower legs were sticking out from the box.
When we changed into our outdoor shoes at the entrance, I helped him. If he kept the box on, he couldn't take his shoes out of the shoe locker.
In Senpai's shoe locker were sneakers so worn out that the toes looked like they were about to rip.
When he was standing, I thought he was looking outside through the slit opened about a quarter of the way from the top of the box. Then, he almost bumped into a pillar at the entrance.
Can he even see outside?

"Thanks for getting my shoes out. You can go home first."

I stepped out of the entrance and sighed. Senpai is stubborn.
In the eastern sky, lightning flashed within rain clouds that hung low like a thick blanket. Outside my vinyl umbrella, water droplets turned into rivers and dripped down.

I decided not to take the bus.
I didn't think Senpai would get on a bus while wearing a box.

I walked ahead, looking back from time to time.
Even if he told me to go home first, I'd feel bad if Senpai got into an accident or was struck by lightning.
He can't even hold an umbrella like that. The top half of the box was already starting to turn black.
Cardboard soaked in rain must be heavy.

I walk along the sidewalk by the tracks. I walk holding an umbrella.
Rainwater soaks into my pants, and my knees feel like they're catching.
Senpai walks along, ragged, wearing the cardboard box.

The Odakyu Line passes by us.
The train lights. A swarm of rain shining as it's illuminated.
The inside of the passing train looks warm and orange. The destination display flows by like a streak of light.
That train is surely the one where the back four cars get detached.
Can Senpai get on the train while wearing the box? Can he pass through the automatic ticket gate?

Even after asking for the umpteenth time if he wanted to share my umbrella, Doi-senpai just kept repeating for me to go on ahead.
Does he want to distance himself from society that much?

Because of the humidity, my right knee starts to ache. When I stopped to stretch my calf, the box bumped into me from behind.
Whoa.

"My bad."
Oh, he looked dejected.
I could feel Senpai hanging his head inside the box.
I really don't think he can see much in front of him.

"Is your leg okay?"
Doi-senpai asks from inside the soggy box.

"It's not like it just started, so it's fine."
I accidentally answered with the truth.
I remember the doctor's words that ligament damage basically doesn't heal naturally.

"I'm going to talk about something."
Suddenly, Senpai declared.
"If I don't hear something, it'll be dangerous if we bump into each other, right?"
It seems Senpai finally acknowledged me as a companion.

"Since when has your leg not been okay?"
A direct question. I can't hate that about him, though.

"Let's not talk about that."
Even though Senpai brought it up, I didn't have the confidence to talk about it pleasantly.

"Let's play shiritori."
Doi-senpai proposed.

We had been walking in silence, and it was around the time the second Odakyu Line train bound for Enoshima had passed by.
My sneaker slips on a manhole cover.
Both my shoes and Senpai's cardboard box have soaked up quite a bit of water.

"Sure. What should we start with?"

"Lumonde."
Senpai answered immediately.

"Hmm. Then, dribble."
The fact that 'dribble' is the first thing that comes to mind—I wonder if I still have lingering attachments to soccer.

"Lumonde!"

"What's that? Is this a Lumonde shiritori?"

That's right, Senpai said, looking somewhat proud.

"Uh. Then, dodgeball."
"Lumonde!"

"Do... Dragon Ball."
"Lumonde!"

Senpai returns with Lumonde without a moment's hesitation. Somehow, I start to get stubborn about it too.

"Dollar."
"Lumonde!"

My sneaker splashed into a puddle.

"Drum roll."
I manage to squeeze it out. Something that starts with 'do' and ends with 'ru'.
"Lumonde!"

"Donut hole."
I made something a bit like Haruki Murakami.
"Lumonde!"

"Dotonbori fall."
"Lumonde!"

"Saturday's Aeon Mall."
"Lumonde!"

"Call to Doraemon."
I'm about to run out of ideas.
"Lumonde!"

"German pole."
Uh, who?
"Lumonde!"

"Doi-senpai, I love you."
"Lu...!"

The cardboard box collapsed with almost no sound.
Doi-senpai stumbled and stepped in front of the cardboard, and the box, weakened by the moisture, tore right along the center slit.

Senpai shook the box off his head.
It had been a long time since I’d seen his upper body.
I could see his face, too.
Eyes half-hidden by a mushroom cut and a high-bridged nose. A lanky frame.
Like a rock star from the sixties.

I held my umbrella over him.

We took shelter from the rain at a supermarket.
While Senpai was trying to figure out how to fold up the limp cardboard, I went and bought some Lumonde.
Not the luxury Lumonde, or the Lumonde ice cream, or the Lumonde drink, just regular Lumonde.
A single purple package. Inside, there were individually wrapped Lumonde sticks.

"Are you really okay with quitting soccer?"
Straight to the point, huh.
I can tell that Senpai is concerned about me, though.

At the edge of the supermarket entrance.
We were taking shelter under the eaves in front of a vending machine.
I looked up at the gray sky. I felt like the color of the clouds had changed from a deep gray to a lighter, mottled gray.

"Senpai. I really did read 'The Box Man'."

Kobo Abe wrote repeatedly that legs that carry nothing and feel no gravity are wonderful.
I felt like I was carrying something, or perhaps that I was planning to carry something from now on.

I watched Senpai’s hands as he opened the Lumonde.

"Lift the center film section on the back of the individual package to ninety degrees. Then, slowly pull the film section down as if unzipping a zipper."
I recited it to myself.
I had even watched a video on how to open Lumonde perfectly. Properly.

Senpai looked at me with a genuinely bewildered expression.
I gently placed my hand over his.

"Because, Senpai, you said it yourself, didn't you? You were reading that kind of poem. That if you could open a Lumonde correctly, the world would become perfect."

Senpai’s right index finger and thumb were pinching exactly the center film section on the back of the Lumonde.
I pressed down near the edge of the film with my left hand. According to the video instructions, holding it there makes it easier to open.

I was in a position that looked like I was hugging Senpai from behind.

I’ve been playing sports for a long time, and my build is decent. The slender Senpai fit completely within my arms.
I couldn't see his eyes well because of the mushroom cut, but I could see his mouth.
Senpai was gasping like a fish landed on shore.

"Senpai, please breathe properly."
I couldn't help but think he was cute.

"You’re... too close. The distance."
Senpai looked like he was struggling to breathe.
Could it be that the reason Senpai was wearing a cardboard box was...

"By any chance, Senpai, did you want to keep your distance from me?"
A slight shock.

"Obviously. If I were with someone like you, who always seemed to have the sun as a friend..."
The Lumonde was trembling in Senpai’s hands.

"If you were with me?"
I asked, feeling like I was cornering a small animal against a wall.
For the first time in a while, a sense of tension and exhilaration welled up, like when I faced an opponent one-on-one.

The discomfort of shoes and socks dampened by the rain. My aching knees. Even now, water droplets that the small eaves couldn't block were wetting our shoulders.
Various things were coming in clearly.
I didn't even have to think about what to do next; it just came to me.

"Now, slowly, pull the film section down as if unzipping a zipper."
I whispered softly into Senpai’s ear.
I let him imagine it with his trembling fingertips.

What do you want to do with me?

The Lumonde was opened with the beauty described in the instructions.
I brought the snack to Senpai’s lips.
The delicate crepe fabric was bitten off by Doi-senpai’s front teeth. There was cream on his lips.
In the damp atmosphere, the crumbled fragments danced away.
The pieces of Lumonde fell onto the crushed cardboard. Slowly.

I watched the perfect moment.

"When I heard your poem, Senpai, I thought that maybe there was a world for me outside of soccer."
I want to open the door to a new world with this person.
I licked my fingertips coated in Lumonde’s cocoa cream. Senpai’s shoulder was wet.

I recall that in 'Froth on the Daydream', there was a scene where a small cloud enveloped two lovers. Inside the cloud, it was warm and smelled sweet, and the two inside couldn't be seen from the outside.
Don't go into a box all by yourself, I whispered to Senpai.
I’d rather we be enveloped by a cloud together.

"I’m a troublesome person, you know. I have social anxiety."

I knew that even before Senpai got into the box.

"Say that thing from earlier one more time."

I think he’s a cute person.

"Doi-senpai, I love you."
"Lumonde!"

<< The End >>

I participated in Nami-sama's BL project!

The three themes were as follows:
・Love on a rainy day
・Lumonde
・Cardboard box

　I watched videos on how to open a Lumonde neatly many times and thought about it!　As for the cardboard box, I thought, I have no choice but to put it over them... 📦

　Nami-san, and everyone participating, thank you for such a fun project!!