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The future.
That was the talk nowadays. They were seniors now, he supposed. Everyone was busy applying for college, or planning some extravagant celebratory showcase for all the graduating idols. He heard them talk amongst themselves in the classrooms.
"I hope I get in... what if I stand out too much?"
"...oh, we should write new songs..."
"-and there'll be tons of-"
Midori didn't care about any of that. He didn't really care about anything anymore.
All this talk of graduation just stresses him out. The hell was he supposed to do? Ryuseitai had more promising first-years. What good was such a useless senior if his juniors could do his job ten times better than he could? Midori couldn't continue his idol work, not when other prospective members deserved the spotlight so much more than he did. They actually want the attention. It's not fair of him to take it all.
One of his rowdy classmates bumps into his chair, not even bothering to apologize. Midori sighs. Does everyone in this class have to be so annoying?
"Midori-kun!"
Yes. Yes they do.
"...what do you want?"
Tetora frowned. "What are you so down about? We're almost outta here! We're adults now, just like taichou! Isn't that exciting?"
No, he thinks. It isn't. It's terrifying. I'm scared to acknowledge the possibility of me making it out of here alive because I never expected to live this long.
"I guess," is what he mutters instead.
But it's impossible to really believe that. He just can't, not when every graduation party he pictured ended with him on the wrong end of a gun, or the unanchored side of a rope (if he could even wait that long to end it.) All this talk of future plans made just made him more depressed. He'd already failed.
Growth terrified Midori. Change is scary.
Late nights and early mornings he spent sat in the bathroom, blade in hand, staring his horrid reflection in its dead eyes, he couldn't even recognize the man staring back at him.
What happened to him?
-
Midori can't recall how he even got here. How he became an idol, a model, a superhero, any of it. How could he, of all people, be a hero, a figure to look up to, to be respected?
He gripped the cold rail with trembling hands and peeked over the ledge, gazing down upon anyone unfortunate enough to notice him.
He wished he had the gall to jump right then and there.
Midori nudged one of his shoes with his bare foot. What was he even thinking? On campus? Really? He must be exceptionally stupid to have expected this to go right. He should have checked the club schedule. He should have asked Anzu some innocuous questions regarding the afterschool closing routine and fleshed out an exact schedule and picked the perfect day to kill himself so as to cause the least amount of hassle to anyone. He sighed.
He was stalling again.
He kicked the worn shoe and watched it fall to the ground as he counted the seconds before it landed.
1...
2...
The door leading to the roof opens much slower than he'd expected considering the circumstances. Not that anyone had seen him up there, as far as he knew.
"Hello?"
His head whipped around to see a very tired-looking Mao scanning the roof for any stragglers. A loud smack echoed from the school's entrance as the shoe hit the ground and it drew Mao's attention over. Midori was startled, but enough to look the other way- something he regrets the moment Mao locks eyes with him.
"Takamine?" he tilted his head. "What are you still doing here?"
Midori sputtered. He couldn't just act like he was there for fun, but he can't tell him what he was really doing. If he knew what he was there for, he'd tell someone and his parents would hear, rumors would spread about Midori Takamine being an ungrateful little prick who has nothing to actually be depressed about. What would Shinobu think when Mao told him who he'd found barefoot by the railing after hours?
"Uhh... n-not thinking about anything..." he trailed. "... in particular...?"
Mao raised an eyebrow at that. He can't quite figure out how to ask about his shoes, how one fell from the roof, what he'd been doing up there in the first place- he supposed if Midori didn't want to tell him, that was his business. As long as he's fine, right?
"Well, uh, we should- we should get going then," Mao stumbled over his words. "I, uh, we- uhhh campus. Close. Down." He winced. God, he really can't think right now. Whether it was shock or exhaustion, he'd probably never know for sure. Luckily, Midori seemed to understand well enough what he was getting at and nodded. "R-right," he mumbled, shuffling away from the railing awkwardly. Mao glanced down at the one remaining shoe, sitting on the very edge, but said nothing about it. It was late and he was tired and confused and just wanted to crash at his dorm, roommate be damned. He couldn't help worrying, though. Mao was a worrier. He always had been. It was probably just the insane lack of sleep making his brain go nuts. Yeah, probably just that.
Midori was indescribably relieved that his upperclassman was either too lazy or didn't care enough to read into anything. For his own sake, he chose to believe it was the latter (it made him feel much less selfish for thinking the way he did about himself.)
-
Midori stared at the plate in front of him. Am I really supposed to eat this? I mean, it didn't look bad, but it was very... meaty. That was the last thing he wanted.
"Ah, s-sorry, but I'm, uh, I'm not too hungry right now. You can have mine, so it doesn't go to waste."
Tetora looked at him, shocked. "Midori-kun, you said the same thing yesterday! Are you sure you're alright? If you don't eat, you won't get better- we made a lot, so you can have as much as you want!"
Ugh. There's that little twinkle in his best friend's eye. He hated it with a burning passion.
"No, I'm fine, Tetora-kun. I just- I had a big lunch, so I'm not hungry." He pushed his plate towards the other and stood up. "I'm going back to my dorm, so... bye." Tetora watched silently as he padded out of the dining room and up the stairs.
It wasn't a complete lie, he was not, in fact, hungry, but it had nothing to do with any prior meal.
-
To say he was worried would be a bit of an understatement.
Mao couldn't stop thinking about that evening. Midori couldn't stop thinking about how Mao couldn't stop thinking about that evening.
What else could he know? What does he not know? It was absolutely killing him.
That's it, he can never see Mao ever again. He can't make eye contact with another human being just to be safe. If he looks at the wrong person the wrong way, God knows what kind of watchlist he might be put on. Fuck, he's probably told everyone in the student council and probably the rest of Trickstar by now and now the whole campus is on Midori's suicide watch team.
...okay, he was overthinking. Totally. Yeah. There was absolutely no way Mao could possibly suspect anything. Just because Midori was an openly depressed kid who constantly wished he were dead out loud didn't mean he actually wanted to die, right?
"Ah-!"
A whistle blows obnoxiously loudly. Right, practice, or something. Not that Midori ever came to club activities out of anything but obligation, but still. He was there. As per usual, it wasn't long before he found himself spacing out again. He caught a glimpse of the others enthusiastically playing along with whatever weird rules Subaru had made up that week. Without Chiaki here to force him onto the court, Midori was free to let his mind wander to wherever it may without interruption. Sometimes he'd think about his schedule, ruminate about how many or how few jobs RYUSEITAI had coming up, or wonder how his plushies were doing at home (he couldn't bring them all to the dorm, at least, not safely.) Today, as was also a common occurrence, he was thinking about the day before.
Why the hell did he even come here? It's not like seeing Mao is gonna help anything, if anything, considering how carefully he'd been avoiding the other boy all day, it could only make everything ten times worse. Maybe he could still sneak out midgame, he doubts anyone would notice. No one greeted him when he came, so what would they care if he left? If he just got up now...
But before he could even try, a ball flew at his head from across the court and knocked him out for a moment. He came back to, head pounding against the cold rubber flooring, his clubmates crowding around him.
"Takamine, are you okay?"
Midori groaned, sitting up and rubbing his temple. He could barely even register any of the shouting in his ear. He grunted some sort of response in hopes it would get them to shut up.
Mao waved off the others and sat closer. He placed a firm hand on his back, repeating the question. The taller boy nodded slowly.
"I don't know what he was thinking with these rules, it was only a matter of time before someone got hit. I don't know why we still let him make the rules, I mean, really? Game, Set, Match? That's not even the right sport! And it basically calls for volleyball but with balls the weight of human skulls! Who would even think-"
Midori groaned, gripping his head maybe a little dramatically. "Could you shut up?" The older boy quickly stopped, remembering that oh yeah, his friend over here could be concussing as we speak, he probably needs medical attention!
"Right, sorry, I'll, uh- I'll take you to Sagami-sensei.
Though the trip was taken in complete silence, the worried looks the older boy kept giving him rung louder in his ears than any words.
-
Midori hadn't shown up to class the next day.
Or the day after.
Not the one after that one, either.
And debatably, it was completely of his own volition. There was no head trauma, no internal bleeding or concussion or whatever the other kids assumed. He just... couldn't.
What kind of lame excuse is that? 'Sorry I couldn't come to your rescue earlier, I wasn't really feeling it. Some invisible force had me hogtied and I couldn't get up. My bed was feeling sad and asked me to stay a little longer.' What kinda stupid bullshit-
Knock knock.
Oh, great.
Did Mitsuru forget his key again? Goddammit, why can't he just drop it in his bag or something so he never loses it? It's too much of a hassle to deal with. Maybe he just doesn't wanna dig it out and if he waits a few more seconds, he'll realize that no one in the room is gonna help him and he's gonna have to burrow it out himself.
Knock, knock, knock.
Come on, just take the hint already. Use your own damn key. You have one for a-
"Takamine? I know you're in there. Please say something."
...that was most certainly not Mitsuru.
The voice called for him again. He stayed silent.
It's all obligation, he told himself. They're from the same agency, the same school, the same club, he has to see your ugly face day in and day out. He doesn't want to think I killed myself because of him. He doesn't care, Takamine, he doesn't care. He'll leave in a minute and forget this happened. Hell, he probably already forgot what he really came for and is here because he remembered he was coming here for some reason. He doesn't even remember he came to check on me. I know it.
"Takamine, I'm coming in."
Midori didn't hear him, couldn't over the volume of his own voice in his head. Who cared, really? No one. Not his roommates, not the rest of RYUSEITAI, and certainly not some random dude in the same club as him. As student council president, he had to have more pressing issues to attend to than a single stupid kid. He'd be willing to bet he's about to get fired and kicked out of Seisoukan for being incompetent and a waste of Starpro's assets.
"Takamine...?"
There it is, that fake pity. That forced tone of voice to make him think he even cared. Maybe it worked once, but Midori had learned. People will flock to you when you're in need, but the second you're fine, they leave. Why? Because they hate you, but they still don't wanna be the reason you kill yourself. It makes them feel like good people.
"Are you okay?"
He really can't do this right now.
"Go pity me somewhere else."
The other boy froze. "Pity... you?" He knelt down beside the bed. "Takamine, I'm here because I'm worried about you. You haven't left the room in three days! That's, you know, kinda concerning!"
Midori just groaned. He didn't get why the redhead was so adamant about caring. No one did.
"Stop acting like you care, I know you're way too busy to care about me. Just go already..." Midori whined, following with a "so annoying" under his breath.
"Midori, I mean it, I'm really worried. After hearing the way you talk about yourself and how casually you say you wanna die, and then seeing you up on the roof earlier this week -"
He knows. Mao knows. Oh my god, Mr. Student Council President knows he tried to kill himself and told everyone.
"Get out," Midori spat.
Mao sputtered. "Taka- Midori, what- did I do something wrong?" He stood, but refused to back away from his bedside.
He wanted to rip his hair out so hard it practically scalped him. "You know what you did." Acting all dumb wasn't gonna help. "I bet everyone in Trickstar knows, and the whole student council. And that Akehoshi can't keep his mouth shut for more than five minutes. And now everyone knows and it's your fault and I don't want anything to do with you now that-"
Mao placed his hand on Midori's shoulder. "Wait, wait, hold on. I never did any of that, I would never talk about something so personal to someone else. And I didn't know for sure what you were there for, so I wouldn't wanna jump to conclusions like that, I -" he took a deep breath. "I know how it feels, and I would hate for someone to tell other people about it if I didn't want them to. So I wouldn't do that to anyone else."
"Yeah, right," The younger boy huffed. "Like I'd believe that."
Mao was Mr. Perfect. Mr. Straight A. Mr. I'm So Important Even Eichi Tenshouin Cares About Me. He doesn't know shit about how Midori feels.
"Just... go away."
If he even thought about entertaining the idea that Mao had struggled like this, he'd lose. He'd lose the weird mind game the other was trying to play with him, and he was better than that.
"I don't wanna see anyone right now."
Push him out. It's the only way.
"So get out."
He roughly shoved Mao's hand off him from under the sheets and he relented with a sigh.
"Okay, if that's really what you want..." he paused. "But please, don't keep it to yourself. The rest of RYUSEITAI is worried sick about you. So at least let them know you're okay." With that, he gently closed the door behind him. Midori scoffed.
What, he should lie to his friends' faces?
-
It was here. He was here. The time had come to put an end to his miserable existence. It was nothing grand, Midori was not a particularly special person, why make it a big deal?
So there he lay on the floor, eyes wide but unfocused, heart pounding in his ears. His insides felt like mush as they gurgled in his stomach, threatening to spill out. He could faintly hear his roommates scrambling around desperately trying to find something to keep him from seizing before medical help could arrive over the ringing in his ears. A cold hand pressed itself against his neck and he retched. Even the slightest pressure made him feel sick. Ugh, this was such a bother. He should have just jumped from a bridge or something, that way he wouldn't have caused so much trouble for everyone. This was worse than his plan to jump at Yumenosaki.
A hiccup forced its way out of Midori's throat, with it the bile it held back. He felt even more faint than before now, the hand comfortingly running through his hair didn't help. It was almost like he was floating down a river, something Kanata might recommend to calm him down. And you know, he thinks that sounds great right about now. A nice nap in a cold riverbank...
Well, it was too late for that now, but it was a nice thought.
The ringing only got louder, his vision blurrier, and it only got harder and harder to think. Not about anything, even his inevitable death. He could only smile internally at the feeling of everything ending. It was, for once in his life, a welcome change to his awful, uneventful schedule.