During his manic episodes, he would always make many irrational purchases, such as buying every dessert in an entire cake shop—so many that they couldn’t even fit in the car. Once, passing by a pet store, Eric Wright bought all the small animals kept in the glass cabinets and brought them all home.

There were too many instances like this.

Eric Wright still remembers the look of his grandfather erupting in fury one day after seeing the electronic bill, remembers how he was scolded as absurd, and how his mother was ordered to give him a fixed amount of cash every day during his manic phases to cover only necessary expenses.

Eric Wright is a very uncontrollable being, longing for freedom, but because he isn’t healthy enough, he’s been confined under a hard glass dome to this day.

Fortunately, Edward Harris is a kind person, who seems very easy to get along with, and is also generous.

So when he said, “See you next time,” Eric Wright felt happy.

That “next time” came even sooner than he expected, and it happened while Eric Wright was still in what he considered a “good phase,” so he felt grateful. Deep down, he realized he was reluctant to face Edward Harris in a bad state.

Even though that’s how they started. Even though he crossed the line from the very beginning, meeting Edward Harris at his most manic, forming a connection in a rather unhealthy way.

Author’s note:

One reason there are fewer scenes from Eric Wright’s perspective early on is that I feel writing from Little Eric’s point of view would be too heartbreaking. But honestly, writing from Edward Harris’s perspective isn’t much better—they’re both pitiful kids.

To everyone reading this, whether you are healthy or not, no matter what insurmountable difficulties you’ve faced, or how much pain you feel life has brought you, please remember to cherish yourself, to love yourself. Cherish not just your life, but also the countless possibilities folded within it. In at least one of those [possibilities], you are happy and joyful.

Chapter 8: P. Crossing the Line Soda

Eric Wright doesn’t really like taking medicine, especially during manic episodes.

He’s attached to his passionate, creative self, and every time he complies with his family and takes his medication, it feels like an excruciating withdrawal—so many problems, so little resolve.

Compared to being at home, going to school actually became his only time of freedom. Even though the driver always followed him, keeping an eye on him, at least on campus, Eric Wright could move freely and didn’t have to care so much.

Professor Martin, who taught his major courses, looked after him—not just because he had good grades, but also because he treated him like an ordinary student, not some special case.

After not seeing Eric Wright for a while, he made a point to ask after class, “We have an interdisciplinary research project coming up, and the paper might be submitted to a top conference this year. Want to join?”

Eric Wright was very willing, but worried he might drag down the whole group. But Professor Martin didn’t see it that way.

“We’re missing someone with strong English writing skills in this group. Good results are important, but the paper also needs to be well-written so the reviewers enjoy reading it.”

Persuaded, Eric Wright agreed. Professor Martin suggested he and a few other students hold a temporary meeting.

At four in the afternoon, Eric Wright arrived at the small classroom for the meeting as instructed. The door was half open; he knocked, intending to go in himself, but unexpectedly, the door was suddenly pulled open from inside.

The next second, he was face-to-face with Edward Harris without warning. The other was clearly surprised too, pausing for a moment.

“You’re also writing a paper with Professor Martin?” Eric Wright spoke first, unable to help but smile.

Edward Harris nodded, “Yeah.” He smiled as well, pulled the door open, and stepped aside to let Eric Wright in.

“This project needs us to develop statistical tools. Professor Martin teaches us statistics, and he asked if I wanted to try this interdisciplinary project, so I came.”

He explained a bit, then regretted saying so much, since Eric Wright hadn’t actually asked.

Turning back, Edward Harris caught sight of his own laptop on the desk, which he’d picked up from a secondhand market—the logo on the back was already worn off. He usually didn’t mind, but at this moment, it felt especially conspicuous.

Eric Wright always sat alone in the corner during class, never sharing a desk with anyone, so this time he instinctively sat in the row in front of Edward Harris.

“I see. I was only called over by Professor Martin today too.” Eric Wright turned and smiled at Edward Harris. “Cross-disciplinary work must be tough, right? If I had to do computer science stuff now, I probably wouldn’t have a clue.”

It was an easy comment to respond to, but as Edward Harris looked at his face, he blurted out, “You don’t look like you study finance, either.”

He simply couldn’t imagine Eric Wright like one of those Wall Street elites, dressed in a full suit and tie, striding through office buildings, making money from the shrewdest people.

“Really?” Eric Wright’s pupils were bright, like the eyes of a small animal unaccustomed to the concrete jungle. He leaned in a little, and whispered to Edward Harris, “Actually, I don’t like it either.”

They were so close that, in a daze, Edward Harris could catch the scent of tropical fruit on Eric Wright—rich and sweet. He clenched his hand on the desk and smiled, “Then why study it?”

Eric Wright’s expression was calm, as if it were only natural. “Because I don’t get to decide.”

Looking at his face, Edward Harris was a little dazed.