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"The trembling fear is more than I can take awhen I'm up against the echo in the mirror."
Tick ... Tick...
Time echoes with incessant repetitions, marked by ticking architecture of turning cogs and jagged shards of metal to portray it.
Tick ... Tick ...
Echoes reverberating through her head like the incessant pounding of the heartbeat. It just marked the ends approach, one echo at a time.
What do you do when all you see are echoes around you? How do you save yourself from their tyranny?
Ignorance is bliss. You don't see the echoes, the repetitions that just get louder and louder every second.
Nothing was different, it was always the same, echoing throughout her head to the point of making her scream and cry inside her little box.
She wanted to escape the incessant ticking, to run so far away and never look back. She wanted to escape all the echoes that continued to drive her to the brink of despair. But there was never anything for her to hold onto in the end, nothing to help pull her into that escape she wanted.
Tick ... Tick ... went the clock.
Her hell resumed itself the moment she awoke despite her desperate wishes that she could stay asleep.
Her first echo was the most prompt – The cursed clock with its ever-routine marking of time.
(F/n) opened her eyes as she found herself entirely conscious, all traces of sleep gone vanishing the very second she looked up at the ceiling of her bedroom. Out of habit, she turned her head to look at the clock hanging from her bedroom wall.
17 seconds past 6.01am, exactly the same time it read every morning she looked at it. She'd only been conscious for less than a minute, and she was already over the day.
Pushing her frustration aside, (F/n) dragged herself out of bed to begin her mornings routine. Getting dressed in her school uniform, she pulled her hair back in the usual style, and made her way downstairs after washing up. Just like every morning, breakfast was already made, and (F/n)'s mother was sitting at the table, dressed and ready to head to work. Her father had presumably left already, as usual.
Monday morning's breakfast was as routine as usual – a single fried egg sunny-side up, a piece of toast, and a glass of juice. Everything was exactly the same, in exactly the same organization with nothing out of place.
She was sick of it.
Silently, (F/n) took her seat at the table, sparing not a glance at her mother as she instead went about her breakfast in a different fashion to the last. She had to do it different every time, otherwise she would never truly know if she was just reliving a past echo.
'(F/n), why do you insist on massacring your breakfast every morning?' Her mother questioned after a minutes worth of watching her dice up her egg and smear it into her toast like jam. 'Can't you just eat it like a normal person?'
The same question, word for word.
'I am sacrificing this unborn child to the dark powers at work.' (F/n) replied monotonously, her attention still upon the task at hand. 'Sacrifices are never meant to be glamorous or mundane.'
There was no answer, like usual.
Once (F/n) felt like she'd massacred her breakfast in an appropriately different way to every other Monday morning, she ate.
Just like every morning, her mother left for work right in the middle of breakfast, leaving (F/n) to silence. No farewells, no fleeting glance back as she walked out of the house, nothing.
There was never much of a family, instead more like strangers living under the guise of a family – Everything was repetitive, echoed, nothing new ever happened, and it just began to get worse every day. Nobody ever talked, it was all everyone could do to just keep to themselves for a peaceful coexistence.
At exactly 6.39am, (F/n) had packed her lunch, gathered her gear and left the lonely house, locking the door behind her.
It was bright, the air already warming up as (F/n) walked on the right side of the street towards school, her headphones in place, connected to her music player, which blared (Favorite Band) through the speakers loud enough to drown the sounds of the world out. Clouds were brewing however, a sign that there might be a storm in the afternoon, but for the time being it was bright.
But to her the world was colourless, shades of grey, white and black, lifeless in spite of everything she tried to remember. Three houses down, the man who lived there was mowing his lawn, just as he always did every third day, every other day he'd water instead. The ninth house after that, the family dog had just made his getaway while the front door was open. On other days, it was likely to be the toddler that escaped instead.
Familiar faces going through familiar routines, never stepping out of the echoes they created for themselves. They were all just so content to continue with it – To keep repeating the same old spiel like they didn't have the capacity to think outside of their featureless little box. It honestly terrified her to consider that her life was going to be the same set of echoes over and over again.
After so many repetitions, the people around her looked less and less like people, and more like featureless, soul-less entity crammed into the skin of a human.
Ignorance is bliss, because if she'd never realized just how many echoes there was taking place every minute of every day, she might not continue to tip-toe along the line between trepidation and detestation.
She'd practically forgotten what it was like to be carefree and happy. But in a sick, twisted way, she didn't know if she missed it or not – It sickened her to see everyone else so blindly happy.
Three streets away from her house, another echo took place with glaring presence.
A familiar form dressed in grey pants, a yellow jumper, and a white shirt with a black tie walked along the opposite side of the street in her direction, his warm, orangish features standing out with great contrast. Walking hand-in-hand with him was a girl with rather normal features of dark hair and dark eyes, dressed in a sombre grey uniform of the same school that he attended. She'd seen that girl every morning for the past week in just the same manner, however the week before, there was a different girl.
However, despite the fact that the girl in mention was different from week to week, it didn't change the fact that they were all the same - Echoes of echoes, even worse than that incessant ticking of the clock in her room.
(F/n) kept her gaze firmly ahead, her expression neutral, as if she had never noticed him. Though it didn't stop the clenching of her heart in her chest, just like every other morning she glimpsed him in this very same echo.
His name was Maehara Hiroto – She knew him, or at least she used to know him. It had been so long since she'd spoken to him.
I'll wait however long it takes for you to come back out of your shell. Words spoken almost a lifetime ago - They echoed in the back of her mind, as if tormenting her with their falsities. I'm here for you. Whenever you need me, I'll be right here. I promise.
'Liar ...' She whispered soundlessly to herself as she pressed on towards school.
A world of echoes waited for her the very moment she arrived, classes taught by teachers who didn't think past the course guidelines they were given, and students who seemed to just talk about the same old thing like it was brand new.
A celebrity just made some announcement, a scandal of some kind, or even just a small mention that they ate cheap ramen for dinner. Which of the students were the biggest heart-throb, player, or just freaky.
Nothing ever changed.
She was asked the exact same questions by her peers. The same group of jocks would rip her headphones off her head just before lunch-time as if it was the first time, the biggest joke in the world, though they did it every second morning. The same teacher gave them detention for their actions. The same two girls she sat next to in class complained about the same topics.
It was the way that the echoes just grew louder and louder that robbed her world of colour.
During the intermission between fifth and sixth period, the monotonous repetitions she called echoes grew just far too much. She thought that after so long living like this, she would have gotten used to it, that she would have grown a tolerance to it.
Instead, it got harder and harder to handle.
She took her belongings with her and retreated to the female restroom to wash her face, to try and regain at least a small semblance of her tolerance before that final class of the day where the echoes got so loud they started screaming at her.
It was as (F/n) rose to her feet to leave the classroom that whispers began to echo, following her out of the room like incessant mosquitoes.
Splashing water over her face, (F/n) remained hunched over the running faucet as she struggled to reel in her unraveling composure. The odd few voices echoed around her, those of girls from other classes who had nothing to do with her, talking about the exact same things the girls from her own class were just prattling on about.
Her fingers clenched tightly against the ceramic basin as her temper began to rise in place of her absent composure, and she struggled to contain it.
'Cha-cha!' One of the voices sounded in harsh laugh, a sign of sarcasm that pierced (F/n)'s ears and caused her to grind her teeth in agitation. 'There's no way he'd fall for that girl! The whole school knows she's a fake!'
'Come on, Mio-chan, have a bit of tact.' Another voice sounded in response, a laugh in their own voice. 'You're going to come across as flakey as Suzuki if you keep that up.'
Pathetic.
(F/n) had heard that very same topic just ten minutes ago.
Was this all there was to life as a human? Empty, repetitive words, echoes of actions with no change in sight?
She looked up at the mirror in front of her, her sharp eyes taking in the sight of her own reflection staring right back at her. It was the one echo she loathed more than anything else in the world.
It always felt like the echo in the mirror was constantly scathing, judging her every thought and whim with nothing but contempt. The echo would constantly remind her of things she didn't want to recall, as if it enjoyed tormenting her so - As if its mission in life was to make her even more miserable than she already was.
Why can't I see all the colours that you see?
Her fingers crackled as she clutched harder against the basin.
It's because you won't let yourself remember, you stupid child. A voice echoed, burning her head like tongues of fire.
Instinctively, (F/n) lifted a hand to strike at the piercing gaze staring straight back at her, however she managed to stop herself from actually hitting the mirror. She took a deep breath and lowered her hand back to the ceramic basin of the sink.
No, she would not unleash her temper on a mirror – it wasn't the surface of reflective glass that she wanted to hit.
She wanted to do so much worse, though. She wanted to burn the place down to an ugly black, maybe then something would finally get rid of these echoes?
She could feel herself trembling against the strain of keeping up an emotionless front. She needed to do something before she cracked, and she was so close to that already.
The wind outside was starting to howl – (F/n) could hear it through the walls. She guessed now was as good a time as any to leave – she didn't fancy being stuck at school if it started raining buckets before class finished. So with that, (F/n) pulled her headphones on and left school.
The skies above let out a reverberating rumble, as if echoing her turbulent emotions to the world, and the droplets of water began to sprinkle upon the world. It was as if the sky was crying for her, because she couldn't do it herself. It was comforting to her in a strange way, the gentle droplets hitting against her as she walked without a care for the fact that her clothes were starting to soak. It cooled her face and soothed the agitation that lurked beneath the surface.
In the distance on the opposite side of the street, a familiar form jogged through the rain, a bag held above his head to try and protect himself from the rain. This time, he stopped at the sight of her walking without concern for the rain, her gaze straight ahead of her, as it always was. Her ears were preoccupied with the sound of music blaring through her headphones, so she didn't hear what he'd shouted out to her.
However she instinctively knew what he said.
He'd raised a hand to try and catch her attention, though he hesitantly lowered it at a thought, and he fell silent as she passed him. She felt his gaze break away from her as she'd turned at the corner and disappeared from his line of sight – No sooner.
How odd.
That was the first time he'd seemed to notice her in months. But it wouldn't do to cling upon fleeting inconsistencies – They always became echoes in the end.
Why can't I be colourful and free? Why can't I see the colours that you can see?
Those questions plagued her every time she let herself drift to thoughts at any point - It was the one question that tormented her. And yet she always found herself returning to the same answer in the end.
Surely, it was because she was trapped in the echoes.
It was all the echoes fault - If they weren't here, she'd be free, right? She'd be able to smile and enjoy the world, regardless of what came her way. Yet she always found herself wondering if she'd ever come close to answering those questions. They danced just out of her reach, an illusive firefly that floated just within sight.
Never resting, never retreating. It was just always there, tormenting her with its presence.
The house was empty when (F/n) arrived, locked and completely untouched. Like clockwork, she discarded her shoes at the door, discarded her bag onto her chair at the dining table, and cleaned up the mornings dishes.
Nobody was ever home - The only time (F/n) ever saw her mother was when she sat down to breakfast, and she only ever saw her father on Friday nights. A family of strangers, living under the same roof, never seeing one another unless it was by mere coincidence. (F/n) honestly couldn't remember the last time her mother had said anything truly meaningful to her, and her father even less.
Was she lonely? Most likely. It was normal for humans to feel loneliness, after all.
Did it bother her? She honestly couldn't say. She'd grown so used to living her life like this that it didn't feel abnormal or new.
She was used to this, so why would it really bother her? Why did she want to burn everything to the ground, and why did turning everything to an ugly black seem so appealing to her every day?
After exhausting everything she could physically do around the house, (F/n) left the house long enough to get take-out, and put herself to bed.
She was sick of living like this, but there was no way she could change it. She didn't know how, or even if she could.
She drifted into a world of black the moment her head hit the pillow, and her connection to her current day of echoes was severed. Darkness speckled with words that made her heart clench, reminding her of the heartbreak she couldn't bring herself to forget.
She'd known him for a long time ... perhaps not to the point of being childhood friends, but certainly to the point where she had grown quite fond of him and made the step to friendship. Being neighbors living three streets away from each other for as long as she could remember did a lot to promote coexistence and friendship, even though they never went to the same school.
Always schools in the opposite direction, forcing the two to walk past each others houses every day just to get to and from school. He never spoke too much about his life at his own school, as was the same with (F/n). Their friendship was based purely on their close proximity to each others residences. A boy with black hair and deep gold eyes was his best friend, one whom (F/n) had met once or twice, but no more.
Every other time, it was only (F/n) and Maehara.
Back then, her parents had far more to do with her as well - In fact, her mother pushed her to be friends with the orange-featured boy, unlike her father who would do his best to find loop-hole after loop-hole to separate the two.
It was probably about that time when her parents stopped getting along.
Maehara was always very popular, even in grade school, though he'd never been anywhere near as prominent with the female gender as he was now. While (F/n) was more inclined to keep to herself, listening to music and drawing in her notebooks. Through their friendship, (F/n) had developed feelings for the boy, though she never dared to think too much on it – She'd be mortified if he ever suspected anything of her, and if she ever did slip up, there was no telling what he'd either say or do.
But they'd drifted apart right after he said those fateful words to her – words that truly meant the world to her at that time. Now, they jabbed into her heart like a knife in a sucking flesh-wound, tormenting her with years of echoes and agony.
Why had they drifted apart? They'd been so close, right up until they started middle-school.
She couldn't remember much of anything – the Echoes took residence in her thoughts, drowning everything out of her sight. All she knew was that the sight of him with all those girls made her want to curl up in a corner and cry.
But she would never let herself fall to such a state. Because the moment one crack took root in her, she'd fall to pieces within a week.
She couldn't escape the pain the memories in dreams created – They repeated themselves over and over, reverberating like those echoes that refused to leave her. He'd haunt her dreams in such a way that it was horribly painful, and yet it was a momentary reprieve in comparison to morning.
Her personal hell was always ready to start once again come 17 seconds past 6.01am. Over and over, and over again.
And her echoes compounded.
Days turned into weeks, and soon it had been near a month since that coincidental rain.
She was honestly starting to run out of options - She'd slipped up twice, repeated the same way of vandalizing her Wednesday breakfast of porridge with the week before, and repeated her Mondays Egg Massacre in exactly the same way three weeks in a row, responding with exactly the same response to her mothers repetitive question, even worse.
These were things she meant to nail down to a fine art – These were things she couldn't mess up! Shouldn't mess up!
It wasn't like anything threw her for a loop – it was the most predictable of predictable echoes, and she should never have managed one mess-up, let alone all the others.
Everything was exactly the same, and she was starting to wonder if she'd finally cracked. In fact, she was almost certain of it.
What was worse was that another echo had arrived to join the sea of hundreds that she saw every single day.
Every time she'd walk past Maehara on the way to school, he actually looked at her. Regardless of whether he had a girlfriend with him at the time, he'd always look at her. Always like he wanted to call out to her, as if the girl holding his hand at that very second was the only thing stopping him. And every echo, he looked more and more agitated, frustrated with something in the back of his mind.
There hadn't been another rainy day since he'd first tried to call out to her, so he'd never been alone enough to attempt again.
It looked more and more like all he wanted was to be alone, every time.
However (F/n) didn't have it in her to wonder why this was.
The mere sight of the orange-featured boy, the thought of him was enough to remind her of words sharp like shards of glass, words that reminded her just how miserable she'd become. The more he looked at her, the more she really did want to run away, at long last.
The more she just wanted to scream in the end.
The first rains since that first one the orange-featured boy tried to catch her attention in came, whirring, howling as it pelted rain against the earth. It was a Friday evening, sometime where the sun had been gone for a while, and nobody else was home. (F/n) lay alone in the house atop her bed, staring up at the darkened ceiling of her room.
She hadn't gone to school today – There was no will left inside her to sit through all those echoes again.
Her mother wouldn't be home for many hours, and there was never any telling when her father was going to come home, either. It wasn't like they were ever here to begin with. It wasn't even like they wanted to be here, either – There were other places they could go.
And it wasn't like they weren't already doing that.
Even if she burned down the house to an ugly black, it wasn't like they were dependent on its presence – They were already basically gone.
The only person who was trapped here was (F/n).
The clock stopped ticking forever ago – How long had it been gone? She didn't know. The incessant marking of time had driven her to sporadic fits, and in the throws of an emotional crumbling, she did away with the little timekeeper.
She smashed it into tiny little pieces to spare herself from its tyrannical ticking, separating every cog and splitting every hand.
One by one, the other clocks had faced the very same fate in an equally as violent manner. But her mother neither noticed, or really seemed to care about the absence of the clocks – If she had, she didn't show it. It wasn't like its presence wasn't felt anymore, however – the constant trembling of her hands had grown so constant that it merely replaced it.
Knock knock ...
The sounds of something hitting against the wood of the front door echoed throughout the silent house, speckling the raging storm outside. She lay there motionless at first, her gaze tracing the lines of the ceiling as she vaguely registered that something was amiss.
Knock knock knock!
The knocking echoed once again, a little louder this time, drawing a small breath from (F/n).
That wasn't her mother and father – they both had keys, and nobody ever visited.
Reluctantly, she lifted herself from her bed to head downstairs whilst keeping her gaze averted from all those mirrors her mother loved hanging around the house.
The knocking was louder, and if possible a little more insistent the longer it took for (F/n) to reach the door. It was almost like the person there knew that someone was home, at the very least. Through the frosted glass of the door, she could see a silhouette that was familiar, though in her current state of mind, she couldn't quite put a name to them, nor a face.
Reaching out for the light-switch, (F/n) found herself momentarily wondering if she even wanted to open the door, though she'd flicked on the light before she could have thought too much on it.
And immediately, she could see the orangish features of the person standing on the other side once the light had come on.
Oh ... it was him.
But why was ... No, what was more important than the reason why he was even standing there on her front step was the question of why was it in the middle of a rather volatile storm?
The knocking had immediately stopped the moment she'd flicked on the light, and reluctantly, (F/n) began to unlock the door. There was no point in pretending nobody was home anymore.
(F/n) sucked in a deep breath, ignoring the clenching pain inside her chest as she finally forced herself to open the door.
Standing on the other side was the heart-wrenching sight of Maehara, trying his best to shelter under the awning of her house to avoid the downpour that came from the skies. He was completely drenched, his clothes clinging to his form as water dripped from him almost just as fast as it fell from the skies.
A peculiar look danced in his gaze for just a second as he took in her appearances, however it was gone so fast she was questioning her eyes. He fixed her with a bright, goofy grin despite the deplorable conditions.
'Yo, (F/n)-chan~!' He greeted her, though his voice trembled just the slightest from what she presumed to be the cold.
Ignoring the painful clenching inside her chest, (F/n) opened her mouth to speak.
'Can ... I help you with something?'
'No, not really.' He responded immediately, still casting her that goofy smile. 'I just wanted to talk to you. Say hi, you know? See how you're doing and stuff.'
'...Why?' She eventually asked, her confusion beginning to eat away at her.
'I didn't see you today, so I kinda got worried.' He answered, his smile fading ever so slightly. 'Of course, you shouldn't be out here in the rain like this. Its freezing out here, and I wouldn't want you to catch a cold or anything.'
Despite how much she didn't want to, eventually she gave in and stepped aside, holding the door open as she looked away from him.
Why did he have to talk like nothing had changed?
'... Hurry up.' She spoke, keeping her gaze averted.
It was a few seconds before a sheepish chuckle escaped the drenched boy, and he stepped inside.
'Thank you, (F/n)-chan.' He thanked her.
She wanted to tell him not to refer to her in such a familiar way, but she didn't. She didn't say anything as she let the door close, a breath escaping her as she turned to head back into the depths of the house.
Even with the clocks gone, their presence was still felt. She could still hear their echoes in her head, ticking away to mark time in their place. It felt like their ticking was growing louder, in spite of their absence.
'Do you remember where the shower is?' (F/n) brought herself to ask as she glanced back at Maehara's sodden form.
He seemed surprised by her unprompted question, though he answered her after a few seconds.
'Y-yeah, third door at the top of the stairs, right?'
She nodded in response.
'Use it - I will leave something dry to wear by the door.' She responded, giving the final word on the matter.
'Yes Ma'am.' He responded immediately, leaving her standing in the dark hallway of her parents house.
She did not like this situation. She should be happy this wasn't another echo, that it was something different from everything else that repeated endlessly inside her head. And yet she did not like this at all. It reminded her of how much it hurt for him to talk to her.
After all this time, it just made all the pain so much worse.
Sucking in a deep breath, (F/n) turned to find something wearable that Maehara could borrow while his clothes were drying.
Her footsteps echoed a dull sound against the stairs as she walked, running a hand over her face as she decided to detour towards her parent's room. She paid no heed to the light filtering through beneath the bathroom door as she passed. The door at the end of the hall stood closed, smothered in darkness as the rain pelted against the tile roof. She lifted her hand to open the door, only to fall motionless as she caught a glimpse of the interior.
On the other side of the door was a moderately empty and lonely room, It's had-been lavish furnishings absent beyond a single bed and a lone closet. Two packed suitcases remained against the wall next to the door, the only items that held a portion of the personal belongings that once remained in the closet. She could see that it was emptied out, for the doors had been carelessly left open.
(F/n) stared wordlessly at the emptiness before her as her breath caught painfully in her throat. Even though she had entertained the thought that perhaps her parents really didn't care all that much about her, it still hurt tremendously to find physical proof that they meant to leave all this time.
Even so, the tears didn't well up as she swallowed dryly and merely closed the door.
(F/n) stood there for several long seconds as she forced herself to walk back towards her room, scarcely recalling that Maehara was even here at all. She picked the baggiest and most plain pants and tee shirt she owned and hoped that he wouldn't complain too much.
Everything was painfully numb as she found herself downstairs lost in thought, though her hands trembled as she tinkered with the jars atop the kitchenette. Her mind repeated the discovery of the empty room to her, over and over as she struggled to make sense of it.
Why couldn't somebody tell her what was happening? Why didn't her parents even say anything to her?
It grew harder and harder for (F/n) to breathe as the questions repeated over again.
And then there was a sudden crash as the storm grew worse outside. (F/n) felt her nerves bristle from fright as she heard the side door open, allowing the crashing of rain outside to reverberate with near-deafening volumes for just a moment. The clacking of heels across the wood floors echoed heavily, as if the volume had been turned right up.
And within an instance, the cup of hot chocolate (F/n) had just finished preparing was snatched right up off of the counter as the woman walked right past.
'M-Mom, you're back?' (F/n) barely managed to speak as she looked up in response.
'I'm not back, I'm only here to get my things.' Her mother commented as she marched right past (F/n) towards the stairs, her tone blunt and careless as she walked.
(F/n) took a deep breath as she merely pulled down another mug and began to resume her previous task. The clattering of luggage knocking hard against the stairs echoed as (F/n)'s mother eventually returned, with a disgusted remark of 'Must you make things this sweet?'
(F/n) bit her lip to halt the immediate string of words she wanted to speak – She couldn't utter those words.
'...That wasn't mine.' She murmured.
'Of course it was, you don't have friends, (F/n).' Her mother responded carelessly as she wandered right past with her needed belongings and dropped the cup right into (F/n)'s hands. 'And that was absolutely terrible.'
(F/n) didn't bother to say anything as she watched her mother walk out, again, with both suitcases from upstairs in tow. The lump that had risen in her throat made it hard for her to breathe as she watched her mother leave her without so much as a farewell.
Just this once, she wanted her mother to so much as wave a hand over her shoulder, just something.
But it repeated just as it always did.
The storm outside raged on with the howling wind rattling the windows in their frames, just as the light from her mother's taxi disappeared completely. Leaving everything in the suffocating darkness again.
(F/n)'s hands around the mug trembled as she struggled to breathe, to break out of the frozen state she had fallen into. It all echoed on repeat, driving her to the brink of screaming out loud.
'...(F/n)-chan?' She heard Maehara's voice echo from the door leading towards the stairs, reminding her that she wasn't entirely alone in the dark house. And from the tone in his voice, it felt like there was something on his mind.
'You're welcome to put your clothes in the dryer, if you'd like.' (F/n) spoke up softly, taking the cup her mother had left to wash it up.
However, there was no response from the boy at all, and instead, she could feel his piercing stare upon her small frame.
'How long have you and your Mom been like that...?' He questioned, his tone cautious. 'I mean, I've never seen your Mom talk so coldly to you before, and your house is practically empty!'
With every word, his volume raised bit by bit, a show that he wasn't liking what he was witnessing right now.
And yet, there was nothing (F/n) could say about it – she kept her mouth shut as she continued along.
However it didn't appear to please the outspoken boy, who let out a frustrated huff as he approached with haste.
'Oi! Don't think ignoring me is going to help anything!' Maehara ground out with frustrated grit, a hand closing over her left shoulder the moment he could reach. 'What the hell's even going on, (F/n)?!'
What right did he have to ask her that now?
How did he think after nearly three whole years, he had any right to have her spill her guts to him just because he wanted to know?
'It's none of your business.' She responded softly, maintaining her averted gaze.
'The hell it isn't (F/n)! I'm your best friend, damnit!'
Best friend?
He was her best friend?
Liar.
'No, you're not,' She responded, practically throwing the words at him with contempt. 'You've been gone for years!'
If he was, he wouldn't have left her all alone in this nightmare for all this time!
There was no immediate response to her sharp words, and the hand that was to her shoulder had actually twitched slightly. It was almost like the words had actually hurt him.
'What are you talking about?' He responded a little softer with confusion seeping into his words. 'I've never been gone, (F/n)-chan.'
Those words struck her hard, stabbing hard into her chest. And in spite of the pain, it didn't bring her to let out a cry. Instead, she felt her self-control shatter in its entirety, allowing all of the frustration, hurt and anger inside of her to bubble over all at once.
She was astonished that he could even say such a thing.
'Since when have you been here for me, Maehara?!' (F/n) practically shouted as she rounded on him, shocking the boy witless as her voice raised octaves with every word. 'All I ever wanted was just five minutes of your time, and you didn't even have that as soon as you started at Kunugigaoka! I waited and waited, and I even tried for months to get so much as a glance from you, and you just conveniently looked the other way! And now it's been three whole years of this and you're now saying that?! You've never once even looked at me! Do you even know what it feels like to be invisible?!'
'But (F/n)-chan, this ...'
'This what?! What about this aren't you comprehending?!' (F/n) snapped. 'Can't you see?! This is what my whole life has been ever since you left me here!'
The words she'd slapped him with left a painfully jagged silence in its wake, all the while he seemed absolutely stunned.
He didn't try to break the silence, nor did he try to defend himself.
With every passing second as her words sunk in on him, he looked even less like that grinning, flirtatious boy she had seen in her echoes every day.
'Did I ...' He eventually tried to speak up, though he paused as he found himself unable to continue looking at her trembling, emotional form. He lifted his hand away from her as he seemed to think on his words momentarily. 'No, you're right ... I guess I really did just disappear on you...'
He looked as if everything was starting to fall into a sickeningly painful form of sense, and worse was seeing that look across his face.
It honestly made her feel even worse.
'I have a bit of a confession, (F/n)-chan...' He spoke up before long with a low breath escaping him. His form seemed to slump slightly as he struggled to look up at her face. 'Will you ... hear me out?'
She did not speak a word, though she remained motionless in the dark kitchen none the less.
He seemed to take that as a sign for him to continue, for he lifted a hand to gently rub the back of his neck almost anxiously as he glanced back up at her face.
'I kind of noticed when you stopped trying to talk to me. Well, I didn't, but Isogai-- you know, my friend I went to school with? He asked me if I'd heard from you, so I realized you'd stopped trying to talk to me. I think that was just when we started second year at Kunugigaoka.' He admitted, shame filling his tone as he looked away from her again. 'I kind of already knew you liked me back then, so I thought you'd just gotten jealous... So I tried getting your attention.'
He hesitantly reached out to take her hand, though he hesitated as he continued his "confession".
'I thought about talking to you when I'd see you... but you just walked right past me as if I wasn't there. I guessed you might have still been mad at me for not spending time with you, so I tried making you jealous...' He shook his head slightly as he actually made the move to grab her hand, and in spite of how much she wanted to rip it out of his grip, she let him do as he wanted. 'I deliberately walked past your house with them trying to get you to notice me.'
'I noticed.' (F/n) replied quietly.
It may have been kinder if she never did notice. It wouldn't have hurt so much to see him like that every day.
'Of course...' He chuckled without humor as his grip of her hand tightened. 'All I really was doing was hurting you when you really needed somebody here for you ... wasn't I?'
His grip seemed to tremble around her hand, and her ears picked up on the small tremor to his breath.
'All I wanted was your attention ... to be honest, it's the only reason I started dating all those girls in the beginning...' He almost seemed to whisper. 'But I guess that was stupid, huh? I should have just called out to you instead of playing these stupid games all this time...'
He was sincere – She could tell as lines of warm liquid fell upon her freezing hand in his, and the trembling of his voice grew worse.
(F/n) let out a breath as she watched the boy usually brimming with boundless confidence and sass crumble to a guilt-ridden mess of regret, struggling to keep herself from speaking those words that her conscience willed her to speak.
I forgive you.
Her conscience demanded, but her heart full of nightmares and pain refused to go down without a fight.
There was just too much hurt for her to forgive him just like that...
'I don't want you to forgive me, (F/n)-chan....' He spoke as if he'd heard her internal warring spoken aloud, and he lifted his head to fix her with a look brimming with conviction. 'I want you to hold this against me for as long as you can possibly manage so I can make up for every shred of pain I've forced on you the whole time we've known each other.'
His hold of her hand tightened as she stared blankly back at him.
'I promise, (F/n).'
The sight of his guilty, yet determined expression remained firm in her thoughts like a plague, answer enough to her conscience that it quelled its demands for forgiveness.
As soon as the source of her pain and anguish had left that night, she was returned to the world of echoes to suffer once more.
The ticking of an absent clock, the lack of colour compounding the effects of the echoes.
Everything remained black and white in a world that pulled her apart at the seams.
She awoke as she always did, to the ceiling above her bed as the light began to filter in through the curtains. The same second past the same minute, over and over on repeat. Seventeen seconds past 6.01am.
And yet, in spite of the time, a hiccough in the echo was already making its presence known.
The faint sounds of knocking reverberated through the empty house, tugging at her thoughts more with every repetition. It was the only sign of life within the empty house. Almost like deja vu, (F/n) dragged herself from her bed and began the gradual move towards the front door.
No impatience could be heard in the comfortable knocking as she reached the door, and in fact the silhouette on the other side of the door she could see seemed rather content there on the step. Her thoughts were nonexistent as she grudgingly tugged open the door and peered at the person on the other side.
'Ah! Good morning, (F/n)-chan!' Came Maehara's bright greeting instantly, drawing (F/n)'s attention right away. 'Sorry to drop in unannounced. I hope you're feeling a little adventurous today!'
(F/n) stared at the playboy standing on her doorstep at no later than six in the morning as she tried to figure out what was even going on.
But then he cast her a gentle, sincere smile as he pulled a jar filled with labelled pop-sticks from behind his back. It was packed so tightly that not a single one could be added to the vast majority of them.
'I want you to pick one out of these every day, (F/n)-chan, and we're going to go and do whatever is written on it.' He announced, that sincere smile strengthening as he watched the disbelief gradually filter across her face. 'I promise, I will never leave you alone, ever again.'
And as (F/n) hesitantly did as he instructed and drew a pop-stick to determine their activity for the day, Maehara cast her a bright grin as he ushered her inside to go get ready.
Finally, for the first time in years, (F/n) saw the first glimpse of colour fill her world – A warm, honey-gold.