Chapter Text
I could be another fool,
Or an exception to the rule
-
Sakura stared at the school building and hesitated before entering. Sakura has a very poor memory of his childhood. When he tries to think of his past, only few, select memories resurface, the rest, seemingly lost to time in the depths of the swamp in his brain.
He read somewhere that your mind often blocks out bad memories and experiences, so why was it, that all the memories he had were tainted with a visceral, grim disposition?
With every step he took towards the building, he felt weighed down, like his feet were tied to the ground and he had to put all his energy on each step forward while his ankles burned and pleaded to stay put and not move forward.
The boy he came across earlier, Nirei, he vaguely recalls, walks beside him going on and on about some random stuff about the school. Sakura figures he won't survive a day here, if what he heard about Furin was true. Excitement and passion can only get you so far. Resilience is what you need more than that. Sakura wasn't sure Nirei had much of that.
The coffee shop girl said he made assumptions too quickly, but how was he supposed to survive otherwise? In any case, none of that mattered. It was meaningless whether or not he made assumptions about people because none of these people mattered to him. It's not like he wanted to be someone who was completely isolated from the rest of social interaction, but it wasn't like he had the luxury of ever experiencing it.
And he supposed that if he did, it would hurt a million times more when he lost it.
So he figured; it was better to just be alone from now on. No one needed him, and he needed no one.
Sakura tuned out most of the boy's chatter as they reached the classroom. Sakura entered and internally winced that the amount of people and the overstimulating noise, which, very unsettlingly, died down the second their presence was registered.
A boy with an eyepatched stared curiously at the pair. Sakura kept his guard up. He soon learned that the boy's name was Suo, and that the story behind his eyepatch was an ancient chinese spirit that was sealed away. Suo appreciated him with the sincerest of smiles for the day before and the entire class seemed to be as interested and congratulatory.
Everyone seemed so cordial with him. And it made him feel revolted. How could they all act so chummy with someone they hardly knew, much less, someone that looked like him. Sakura's teeth would grind against each other and his fingers itched at compliments and praise. His stomach churned and groaned with unease whenever they treated him warmly, with thought and kindness.
Because he knew, deep down, that it would never last. He'd internalised this long, long ago. He'd learnt this the day he was born - a signpost of which, shone through in his discoloured iris.
It ran much deeper than just his physical appearance of course, but that was how it all unfurled.
_
See how it is
They want you or they don't,
Say yes.
_
Sakura stepped into his dingy apartment and a grimace took over his face. It was abundantly shabby. The door creaked open with a sickening, aged groan, almost as if it were begging to be let go from it's occupation yet it was bound by rusted hinges that carved into it's very being. The windows were of a similar condition. Cracked glass in the corners as it swung back and forth, first gently, then forcefully as the wind picked up. Sakura flinched as the glass banged back against the windowframe with a grievanced vigor.
Sakura sucked in a sharp breath. At least it was far better than the lousy excuse of a 'home' his parents provided for him.
After all, cold water feels warm when your hands are freezing.
He dragged himself inside, head throbbing from the exhaustion of the day. His stomach burned with a desperate ache of hunger but he ignored it with a trained acceptance. He hardly had anything in his fridge anyway.
Shower. Yes. That's what he needed right now.
Actually, he needed much, much more than that, but he'd never acknowledge nor admit it.
He sluggishly got undressed and meandered towards the bathtub. He winced and his breath picked up as the harsh and unforgiving cold water shot out of the shower-head. His throat closed up and unprecedented tears pricked at his eyes as the numbingly chill water seeped into pinkish red abrasion on his thighs.
Shame crawled up from his stomach and wrapped around his throat with a bitter, sharp pain.
He scrubbed at his body harshly to rid himself of any remnants of the day. He realised he's overdoing it when his skin turned red under his fingernails.
He got out, dried himself off, changed into his slightly tattered, cheap pyjamas and layed down on his stiff, sad futon and shut his eyes, falling into a dreamless sleep.