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It’s times like these where one questions how close they really are with someone.
When two people bond, they tend to learn many things about each other—personalities, hobbies, boundaries, likes, dislikes—you get the idea. And yet, it’s as if there’s a whole other thing when it comes to one’s emotions and stability. You can help them get better—it’s encouraged—but that also means you have to learn through experience what to do when your partner is at their lowest. You may as well be a guiding light to them at that point. Assistance in healing helps strengthen bonds in numerous ways. You don’t have to be the nicest person in the room, but you need to have enough empathy for each other that you can be both likeable and tolerable as a significant other. (The trade-off should be close to mutual. If you can’t do much, do what you can.) Who knows, you may as well be saving your lover or friend’s life just by giving a few words of affirmation.
For someone like Okazaki, it’s hard being an apathetic imp of a person. Most to all cases she can’t enjoy nor understand the feeling of assisting others at such lows. She simply can’t bring herself to care as much as others.
It’s always been like this—there’s genuinely no possible way for Okazaki to explain why she has an empathy deficiency. She isn’t a narcissist either; she doesn’t believe to be full of herself nor selfish towards others. She simply can’t fit in to the concept of emotional empathy or true “connection”. It makes it harder to form close relationships with the other cast members but at least it’s easier for her to move on from catastrophes than others. Okazaki herself likes to think of it as akin to being a star in the sky that’s nothing but a hollow glass shell projecting light. Or, a fleshless fox—the skin is still there, which means the fur is still there on its person. The fur helps blend in and keep warm—in the majority of cases that’s all that matters. That’s one of the several basic reasons why that fox is considered a basic outcast in the group; the fox has something on the outside for others, but any further internal warmth is completely absent. She can’t care for something she can’t possess. Okazaki doesn’t want to have a million close bonds with the others, but she can’t take the lack of attention either. Once again, it’s merely in her nature.
One of the people Okazaki managed to actually grow close to (to hers and his surprise equally) Harada. If a polar opposite to the fox existed in this world, it would be that upbeat zoologist with the pet tiger named Harada. Okazaki fell for his appeal—and imperfect perfections—tenfold. His knowledge with mammals (or animals in general), the way he’s always determined to work hard, how sociable and kindhearted he is, his radiant energy, his strength, his roaring laugh, how he’s always playful with others, his eyes, that long strand of hair she loves tampering with… Even that crooked smile of his both makes him shine like a star and makes Okazaki all flustered in fascination. For someone who rarely grows awestruck at people alone, the zoologist may as well have been an angel of death coming down for her. The so-called “crush” on him developed rapidly and after some communication successes (and errors) the two gained mutual affection for each other—they were rather close according to everyone else. Even so, neither of them could agree the relationship was platonic nor romantic; what they had transcended any regular label. The two weren’t entirely made for each other, but it is a good thing the two grew close. They pair up well enough with their own respective differences, like cherries and oranges. You don’t see the pair anywhere else naturally, but it still appears flavorful and refreshing.
It was one night like this where the phrase “weren’t entirely made for each other” made sense in an emotionally-driven context.
The dormitory hallway was close to pitch-black save for a strobing light coming from a room located near the end of the hall. It was several minutes to midnight, with nobody but one person lurking in that elongated hallway. Okazaki has an erratic nighttime routine; everyone knows that. With no keyholes available, she likes to get close to the thin walls in an attempt to hear anything coming from the other side. From there she stayed for five minutes or so, and on some lucky days came enough gossip to overthrow ten reality shows and some board games. It was a favorite pastime of the fox’s, for many of the other “students” preferred not interacting with her in general. She does the procedure with everyone, but saves Harada for last. The best case scenario is that he’s only sleeping after Okazaki passed the other fourteen. Otherwise, his room would often be on the noisier side, either blaring one of his favorite documentaries or is busy playing around with Sawa. She finds the little amber rascal unpredictable.
Tonight was no different than any other. Hiroaki’s starting his own drama, Tamba and Watari seem to be in the latter’s dorm giving commentary on some yuri manga Wada recommended them, Isono sounds like she’s busy playing a miscellaneous game… There was nothing out of the normal at first. The outlier just so happened to be the last door of the night that she would eavesdrop on.
There wasn’t a single light coming from the room. Okazaki found that odd, considering he always liked to leave even a small light on in such a dark room. There wasn’t no noise coming from any television or speaker, either. It’s likely that Sawa was asleep but the lack of vitality that she sense from Harada’s room was intriguing. One would think that she’d be more worried than interested. Worrying is just not the term she would use to describe herself here. To Okazaki, this was akin to solving some mystery. Perhaps tonight is a good night to learn something new.
“Knock knock. Harada, are you there?” the fox asked in that telltale playful tone. She always added a little accent to his name, usually to indicate she’s bored or willing to talk. She hesitated before planting two light knocks upon his door. In actuality, she just said the onomatopoeia first. If he doesn’t answer immediately, she proceeds with literal knocks.
“It’s far past Sawa’s bedtime but I wouldn’t know if you’re asleep yet~”
This time around, Okazaki made four knocks on the door—she knocked harder on the last two in case he didn’t hear her the first time. She can wait, though. It’s rare that the fox gets impatient with Harada. He may as well have his reasons.
“Apologies if I’m ruining your sleep, Harada, but I still want to know whether or not you’re there.”
Four knocks, all at a high volume but not enough for it to sound annoying to those close by. Okazaki waited about ten seconds and then repeated the same motions. Still, no response came from the room. The worst case scenario is that Harada was brutally murdered by someone, had a freak accident, or committed suicide. The best case scenario is that he decided to be a heavy sleeper today.
The pure white, thickly-padded trenchcoat was no more, and now the fox wore a long, thin cardigan-type coat with many deep pockets. From these Okazaki took out a copy of Harada’s room card and debated on whether or not she would casually break in like a slasher. It’s hilarious, but would be unnecessary considering the overall situation. She came to the conclusion that she would use the card, but walk in like any normal person. As if she invited herself to his room. The pair may as well have gotten to that stage after some couple months.
It took a second and a half for the fox to be dumbfounded. The door is already unlocked. A key isn’t required. Everyone else is in their rooms, and Okazaki didn’t hear anything about Harada having some midnight company. He never leaves his door unlocked like this at night. Something was amiss, and curiosity soon got the best of her mind. She is one to fall for impulses, after all.
Around the corner of the door entrance was the actual bedroom part of the dorm. Even with good night vision she couldn’t see anyone in the living room area.
He knew she was in the room, and he knew she was knocking. Such a shame the fox can’t understand why he didn’t answer.
In the dimly-lit side of the room lay Harada. At least, from looks alone. His eyes appeared foggy and darkened, eyebags heavier than usual, hair frazzled and unkempt, limbs limp and motionless over the bed. He was even frowning. A tired, hopeless, despairing frown, Okazaki thought to herself. He was conscious, awake, and breathing. Still, anyone would think they walked into the residence of a corpse. The fox has never seen him this miserable before. He looked so dead it’s as if it hurt Okazaki to even look at him. She stared at him with curious silver eyes—not like mirrors or statues of angels, more like the very silver that kills vampires. He didn’t stare back. Perhaps he was debating it. The fox and the zoologist laid in silence for a moment or two before Okazaki brought up another question.
“Are… you okay, Harada?” she asked him slowly and inquisitively. There was no added accent this time, she simply rotated her head to the side a little and tried her best to appear “normal”. She’s socially incapable, yes, but she isn’t blind. Acting like a her villain persona or some eccentric individual now wouldn’t make this any better. From the zoologist came no response. He moved his arms slightly, bending them and placing his hands somewhere on his torso.
Wait… isn’t he prone to having these bouts of hopelessness? Isn’t he clinically depressed? Isn’t he *also* prone to burnout? I’m enough of a psychologist, I should have known this. Through this train of thought the fox knew she arrived at an undesirable time. God knows what this guy can do if I leave him behind like a dead dog. I’m gonna have to comfort him now, aren’t I? He’ll come at me days later saying how much of an asshole I was if I don’t. Am I even supposed to comfort him? -No matter. You came here for a reason, you wanted to know why Harada wasn’t answering you now of all times.
She awkwardly walked over to the side of the bed, face blank and eyes wide, not having the slightest clue of what to do next. She wasn’t worried, but she doesn’t know how to comfort people using words. She doesn’t know how to give hugs properly. She doesn’t know why she doesn’t care that Harada is in this pitiful state. —At least she found pitiful as the right word.
Okazaki found herself sitting on an open section of the bed before asking, “What’s gotten into you? How long have you been laying like this, Harada?” The fox grew just a few inches closer to his face, and upon further inspection saw him with such drained, puffy eyes. A glimpse in his eye implied he was zoned out in some way.
“Oh, dear… * tongue click * Alright, tiger boy. Let’s get you up from the bed for one moment.”
Okazaki improvised a plan: she would get Harada to come to his senses and get up, and then she could talk with him about why he’s so tired and depressed. Just like a therapist! Without a second thought she lifted up his bulky figure from the bed and set him down sitting up. Harada had lifted his eyes and looked towards her for the first time but didn’t make a noise nor change his facial expression. Now the two were even closer, but this was no place and no time for romance. Okazaki had to host a therapy session. The only issue is she can’t really find anything reasonable to say. Pressure, threats, guilt tripping, and misinformation were all off the board. Should she just assess this outright with him?
She couldn’t have found a way otherwise. It was at that moment that the zoologist gave up physically one again and collapsed onto Okazaki’s body, his head toppling over her right shoulder. It felt like he was restraining her in some way. Other than some stuttering, the fox was left speechless in confusion. Has he passes out? Did he want a hug from her? Why would he want a hug from Okazaki Hanano of all people? And he just won’t move.
The fox placed her left hand on Harada’s right and began to speak to him. She only hoped she wouldn’t run her mouth and spoil it all. This is the last person she would rather do this to.
“I know you’re depressed, Harada. At the oddest of times you grow into this miserable corpse of a person from burnout. You’re just exhausted, and you feel as if you can’t do anything about it for hours- even days.”
This, she said in a less playful voice. It’s the kind of serious voice she likes to use on Tsuno to scare her. Okazaki can’t control her tone well; hopefully, the tone should sound better with Harada because of the context here. The zoologist said nothing, made no human expression, but gradually grew more and more limp in her “arms”.
“You know I can’t help you much here, Harada. It’s too late to call up anyone else. Still, you’re such a pity to look at. You don’t mean to look sad—you can’t control that feeling of dread after being so cheerful for so long. Your mental stamina I admire.”
“It’s only courtesy that I try to help you here. It’s because nobody else is awake. You can grow even more upset and hopeless in the coming hours, after all. You know I can’t compliment nor praise people properly. I can’t give you any affirmations. It’s but a shame—you always adored getting that loving, sweet-talk treatment, don’t you? And yet you right now can’t even fend for yourself. It’s like you’re stuck in a spiral, right?” Perhaps she unknowingly started running her mouth—the one thing she didn’t want to do with her partner Harada. The worst part is that she won’t care a few moments after doing so. That’s what apathy can do to a person.
“…What, did you use up too much energy? Were you exhausted from being the brightest star in the room? It’s a dreadful feeling, that thing. A secret killer—you just happened to be its latest victim because you tried a little too hard. You probably don’t even have the power to get yourself out of this bed. That’s why I came to you instead. You’re an odd one for that, you know? I don’t hear you telling your problems to anyone else. And here you are, facing the consequences. I never knew being a try-hard was your strong suit.”
By now, Okazaki could feel some wet stains on her cardigan and shirt. She knows the zoologist well enough to know that the tears often come before the noises. Without him shedding tears, nobody would know he’s actually crying. Listening close enough, the fox could hear him sadly whimpering a little. She could feel his hands grip her arms and shoulders, sinking his face closer into her. The fox thinks he’s finally letting it all out.
Okazaki held him by his hips (more like his ribs) as gently as she could before reluctantly continuing her speech.
“It hurts me as much as it hurts you, dear zoologist. When you can’t see a light at the end of the tunnel and all you have is the devil on the hotline. You could just stay here, you know. I could convince Tsuno to give you counseling instead or Hayashi into giving you a little pep talk. Maybe you’d enjoy seeing Hasegawa again, who knows. You’re nothing but a sad sack right now, needing some comfort. It’s painful seeing you look like a weeping monster. You’ll look disgusting after you get it out of your system, but I’ll help you clean up and get back to normal.”
Harada continued crying. He didn’t know what else he could do then. The notes Okazaki said fell flat, but that’s what he expected. It’s just a shame he didn’t have the voice to tell her that she could leave. Now she’s giving him an unprecedented, passive-aggressive therapy session. This counseling bit was enough coming from me, Okazaki thought. You know I can’t save you here. I don’t care enough to talk to you like this—you know that. But people take whatever they can get when they’re desperate, can they? You’re saddening, Harada. Somehow you make me sad just looking at you like this. You might as well have cursed me.
The fox soon held up the zoologist’s head softly with her hands, analyzing the damage. Tears were still streaming but he was quiet, and appeared drained. Harada can’t bring himself to smile, not like this. For one who used to have so much energy, he just looks up at her in paralyzed exhaustion. It was eerie. Nonetheless, Okazaki began to caress his cheek, wiping the tears away without actively touching his eye socket. With the other hand, she scratched at his hair (similar to petting a dog). It’s worked many times to cheer him up. Harada’s hair is nice and soft, and Okazaki loves playing with it. She believed doing these would increase his mood.
After a second of pondering, Okazaki decided it was best for her to stay with Harada for the night, in the case something happens to him while he’s alone. Even if moderate, she’s still aware of the stakes. This isn’t the first time they’ve slept in a bed together. The fox found herself slowly hugging the zoologist, which was weird. She always hugs people to the point of suffocation, digs her sharp nails into their skin, or does more of a “two palm touching the person” move as opposed to an actal hug. Harada’s head lay atop of her chest this time around—it felt odd but sweet having such a reversal of roles. She always loved cuddling with him too, no matter his mood.
“…I hate when you look like that. So sad, like you’re dying but it’s all somatic because the mind is just too dangerous on its own. I pity you. You’re stuck talking to an apathetic fox who pets you like a dog. Goodness knows whether or not you’d like that. Just know I won’t be able to actually save you when you’re in these episodes. I love you, and I love seeing you happy, but this isn’t my strong suit. Again, you know that by now. I’ll leave you with one of the other proclaimed counselors tomorrow, and then we can do something fun. You’d like doing things again, wouldn’t you? You’re always so active.”
“It’s just a shame empathy’s not my field of work.”