Just having to be in this bus makes my skin crawl. I listen to music to ignore the panting of the people behind me. Don’t use me for wet dreams.
My name is Anthony D’Angelo. I’m not some angel or an incubus. And yet, no matter your gender or your species, you will all be subjected to what my mother calls my “sexiness”. She says it’s genetic and on my paternal side. Thanks, Dad.
Of course this never happens to him. Sure for his age he’s kinda handsome, I guess. Wait, I’ll take about this later. Someone really copped a feel. Don’t touch my butt.
“Pervert,” I shout.
They usually stop at that point. Knowing that I’ll call them out and I will call them out, people tend to stop touching me on public transportation. However, if all of them joined together to attack, this method would immediately stop working.
The bus stops at the last stop and I run out the bus. (I will be doing a lot of running. A LOT.)
I reach the ferry terminal and see that the next ferry is in three minutes. That is still too long. There are mounds of tourist here and I see their eyes become more animalistic. I enter the bathroom and lock myself in the stall. I’m okay with whatever they think I’m doing as long as they don’t touch.
“Ant is that you?”
“Tom?” I say to myself.
I slowly unlock the door and it’s him.
“Tom” I said through half crying eyes as I slam open the door.
Tom is my only friend. He is one of the only people that can escape my blessings (curse).
“Dude, I told you “hoody, glasses, all long sleeves” and never look anyone in the eyes!”
Tom is scolding me. It’s so normal.
“Dude, stop crying. Here,” he says as he hands me all new protective gear.
“Will we make it through today?” I ask.
“As long as you’ve got me,” Tom replied. “And stop crying.”
We race for the ferry and I try to not hit anyone while I look at floor to not “look anyone in the eyes.”
Tom grabs me by the arm and brings me onto the boat.
On the boat we hid in the bathroom inside the handicapped stall. I apologize to any handicapped person that needs the bathroom, but this stall is my savior.
“Don’t move, don’t speak. You throw out pheromones when you move and your voice is like honey to suckers.”
“Tom, I know you mean well, but gross.”
Tom shrugs and hands me the homework and notes I have to copy from my current absents.
Leaving my house is still difficult for me. If I could, I would be a hermit with 2-Dimensional girls as my wives. Yes, I said wives.
“You’re not going home. I’m dragging you to class. End of story.”
I click my teeth. Tom and I have been together since 2nd grade when I transferred schools. Okay, that was the 12th school that I transferred to since preschool, but it wasn’t my fault. There were incidents that made me transfer:
Preschool: ALL of my teachers tried to touch me during nap time.
Kindergarten: ALL the girls and guys in my class fought over who would be my wife.
1st grade: I got bullied on several occasions for having a pretty face and body. The excuse was “there’s no way you’re a boy.”
I was already used to transferring and I had no trust in anyone because of how they behaved. When I met Tom I thought now that’s a great guy, but still can I go watch anime?