Chapter Text
Osamu looked at himself in the mirror of the grungy latrine in his university's main building. The scratches on his arms stung, and the blood on his shirt made it stick to his body.
He felt disgusted with himself.
How could he have done this? Killing someone for a girl who probably didn’t love him anymore. It wasn’t entirely his fault, your mortal enemy just happened to walk into the bathroom as he was leaving.
10 minutes earlier
Location: Ahma school of culinary arts- Murder site
The building was quiet, classes had been over for hours. People in the hall were scarce, and even stoners had abandoned the shitty latrines to find better places to smoke.
Osamu had just returned from his 3rd night in a row of drinking. You had left him almost 4 days prior. God, he was such a mess. He felt like he was going to die - or at the least puke his guts out.
He walked into the first bathroom he saw, disregarding the clear sign on the door that said it was the woman’s bathroom. He ran towards the first stall in the bathroom before bile rose in his throat and he vomited.
He gasped for air, his throat burning. He coughed any remaining substance out of his throat and into the toilet. He was fucked, how was he going to survive this semester without you by his side. The only thing he figured replacing you with, alcohol, wasn’t working.
Nothing was working anymore. His relationship with you apparently, his classes, even his stupid fucking meds weren’t working. The alcohol amped up his nothingness by 1000%, rubbing it in his face that he was alone, practically hung over by now, and desperately in need of a break.
He ran his hands up into his hair and pulled a bit, headache starting to seep into his skull. The cold bathroom contrasted his warm flesh, making him feel more nauseous than before. Ugh, what was Osamu doing? He was just going to mope here without you, sad and pathetic?
Hell yeah.
Osamu got up off the floor and flushed the toilet. The sea of nausea had finally calmed down a bit, enough so he could move around without the fear of vomiting everywhere. He opened the stall and went to the sink, washing his hands and splashing a good amount of cold water on his face.
He dried his hands and face on his thankfully vomit free shirt and looked up into the mirror. Red rimmed puffy eyes, pale everything else. He could even see that his cheeks were sinking in a bit. When was the last time he had eaten something? And when did he start looking like a crack addict?
How had it come to thi-…what was that?
A few laughing voices could be heard from down the hall. Clearly drunk college girls coming back from the bar. Nothing untypical. The clicking of heels stopped for a second in front of the latrine. “Hold on Jane, I’m just going to use the restroom real quick I’ll meet you back in the dorm!”
The latrine! Osamu was in the latrine, a fact he knew well. Well enough to know he wasn’t supposed to be in there. He rushed from the sinks back to the stall and shut himself inside one. Thank the lord these fucking stalls went down to the floor.
He heard the metal door to the latrine swing open and slam shut. A girl stumbled into one of the stalls close by and locked it. Maybe he could just leave while she was in there? Osamu thought about it for a minute and weighed his options, making an escape route. Clearly though he forgot one important factor to this, time. Because by the time he was done thinking about it and had unlocked the stall door to leave, there was a flush and another unlocking of a stall.
He was frozen, caught dead in his tracks. The girl, a short curly haired brunette looked towards him and made a face. “You know this is the girls room right? You’re not supposed to be in here!” She crossed her arms across her chest.
He absentmindedly nodded, where had he seen this girl before? He knew he recognized her from somewhere, he just couldn’t pinpoint whe-…he knew.
Nalia McRoyal, the entitled fucking bitch who had started a rumor you were shittalking your best friend. Osamu knew this wasn’t true, you were an incredibly sweet person and had only kind words for your best friend. You held her in high regard. Nalia just couldn’t cope with the fact you wouldn’t help her cheat on exams, so she resorted to petty drama making.
You had cried over the loss of your best friend for weeks, over the years of friendship gone with just one decision. You hated Nalia for it. You hated her even more for getting in good with your ex-best friend and stealing her from you. All to spite you.
Osamu had been there for all of it, watching shows you and your ex-bestie had watched together, talking about celebrity gossip with you so you wouldn’t feel so sad. He even attended a Taylor Swift concert you and her had planned to go to.
You hated her so much, he could remember the hatred in your eyes brewing every time you saw her. He could feel it boiling in his own veins.
That was it.
That’s how he would win you back. He would rough up Nalia, show you how good of a boyfriend he could be. Taking out your enemy was the perfect solution - to his half drunk half hung over mind. His brain was fogged, unmedicated, and contorted by his love for you.
“HELLO?! If you don’t leave right now I’ll have to get the building manager.” Osamu took a few steps towards her, a dark and crazed look in his eyes. Nalia stepped back a bit, catching on that this guy was not ok. She turned to run out of the door, but wasn’t fast enough. Osamu pulled her back and slammed her into a wall.
Boom. POW. Clank.
Run Run Run Run Run Run Run Run Run
Yank. Slam. Rip.
“HOLY-” Bang. Bang. Bang …drop.
After a few seconds the red rage cleared from Osamu’s vision and he calmed down. He saw a can of bloodied Lysol in his hands, blood staining the wall and floor, even his own clothes, and what seemed to be a dead girl in front of him.
He looked over everything again, Lysol, blood, blood, blood, dead girl. Shit. Shit. SHIT.
What had he just done? He just killed somebody. He didn’t mean to, it was an accident, an honest mistake. But holy shit he just killed somebody.