Work Text:
`22:15 ,
15th April`
He’s shaking.
He’s crying, and shaking.
They’re just so cruel! How could they? How could they defy him?!
He’s tired.
He’s so, so tired.
“Don’t slip up~”
Junko’s words slowly come circling through his brain.
He hates it.
He hates it so, so much.
Those words were supposed to be encouraging, right?
right?
Wasn’t Junko’s words supposed to be helping him? Wasn’t Junko the one that helped him with so much? Wasn’t Junko the one that helped him recognise who he was?
Or was that someone else?
Pale, shaggy hair—
“Argh!”
Just let the ringing stop.
He grips his neck.
It hurts.
He chokes himself even tighter, waiting for the air to stop coming through.
It hurts.
His face starts to pale, and his vision starts to distort.
It hurts.
He’s done it so, so many times, so why does it still hurt?
It hurts.
Where’s the demon that always looked over him?
(it hurts.)
“You're Izuru Kamukura. You're Izuru Kamukura. You're Izuru Kamukura. You're Izuru Kamukura. You're-“
Hajime’s body collapses. The “demon” (as dubbed by Hajime) looms over it.
He’s too late.
He couldn’t help softening the pain.
Why does Junko’s voice ring so much in his head?
("-Izuru Kamukura. You're-“)
Izuru leaves Hajime’s limp body.
Hajime woke up.
With a smile on his face, he looks over to his digital alarm clock.
`10:15 ,
15th April`
(Izuru leaves Hajime's limp body.)