Work Text:
He forgot.
Even that.
Sometimes he happened to read that phrase in the books.
“It hurts"
But those were empty words to him, without any sound.
What is wrong? What is good? What does pain mean?
He had seen Ryouta Kawara folded in two, sitting at a desk in the library, with his arms clasped on his stomach. He didn’t like his unreadable, hurtful expression, despite not knowing its meaning.
"Something’s wrong, mr Kawara?”
“My stomach hurts”
How much he must have seemed absent? Confused? Frustrated?
He didn’t understand.
He couldn’t.
Something, however, suggested to him that himself had been connected to that suffering too, so long ago.
Who knows how long.
He was looking from afar his own pain.
Now it doesn’t hurt anymore.
Now he doesn’t feel anything.