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Everything was going way too fast, Hiroaki didn't have the slightest notion of pretty much anything, and he still couldn't find Takeshi, much to his annoyance.
It's been at least five minutes since the body announcement went off and the only thing he got out of Yanagi was that he was apparently sent to be partnered up with him for the investigation.
Which, like, confusing because usually he pairs up with Takeshi, but whatever. Works out for him since now he doesn't have to drag the moron around while he's the one dealing with the fallout.
He's getting worried though… Ojima was likely fine, he's probably with one of the others instead of just spaced out in a random room since he hasn't seen him even once this whole time they've been exploring the kitchen.
Speaking of, “Yanagi, why are we even exploring the kitchen? Isn't the body upstairs. Like, I don't even know what I'm looking for.”
“Well.. He- T-the body was stabbed and there's a cut across the neck, but that's all I know. So, currently, we're searching for anything that might seem like it's missing or placed wrong.”
“... You're acting weird.. Like, weirder than usual weird.”
“Rude.”
“Whatever.”
“Who's dead.”
“...”
“Yanagi?... Who's.. Dead?”
Takeshi really needs to pop up soon, it's so awkward doing this with Yanagi of all people.
Why can't he find Takeshi?
“Hiroaki… let's.. Let's just focus on the investigation right now.”
Where the fuck is his Takeshi?
Where is he running too?
He doesn't even know where the body is.
Everyone is gathered outside the art room. It sounds like someone is yelling his name.
The door is closed to the art room. Didn't he tell Takeshi he could come relax in here and he'd check on him soon?
He doesn't usually close the door.
He's probably fine. He's gonna open this door and Takeshi will probably be completely out of it, off in Takeshi-Land and he'll have to drag him out of his little sanctuary and explain… explain something.
Someone is screaming, that's not gonna wake Takeshi up. He's pretty much dead to the world when he's like this, give it up buddy.
His throat hurts.
He's screaming.
There's so much fucking blood. He feels sick.
Oh God.
He needs Takeshi.
He's right there.
He's crying. His sweet, soft, ever so dense Takeshi.
He wouldn't hurt a fly. He couldn't hurt a fly. He would sooner let his own mind consume him, embrace him in a sanctuary of his own making, than raise a hand to another.
So why?
Why is this happening to them?
Fuck. Fuck, fuck, fuck.
Where's his head?
Mai is pulling him away, he thinks he hears Kamimura too.
He can't leave Takeshi. He needs to wake him up, he's vulnerable when he's spaced out like this and without Hiroaki.
He can't breathe.
He can't breathe, he can't leave Takeshi like this.
He can't hold on either.
Fuck.
Everything goes black.
He wakes up to Tsuno laying next to him, she's crying for some reason. He starts crying too.
“What.. Happened.?” He grunts out, slowly sitting up.
“Nagawa…” She gasps out, before more tears end up spilling. For some reason, he can't find it in himself to comfort her. He feels empty, like half of his brain is just cut off from the rest of his body. So he just stares at her, blinking slowly but never letting his gaze drift.
“T-Takeshi… W-we.. Hasegawa found him in the art room, his head was cut off and he had hundreds of gashes all over him..” She has to take a break to get her breathing somewhat under control, gripping her legs so tightly he thinks she'll cut herself somehow. “At least, that's what Kamimura said when I came to get you. I.. I don't know everything yet but.. After we brought you here I left with Masa to check out the woodshop a-and…”
She trailed off after that, her whole body shivering even after the cold had long since left the building.
He felt cold too.
“How much time is left to investigate.”
“Uhm, maybe an hour..? We can't really do anything.. Everyone else already did everything so… just.. Stay here. Okay? If.. If not for yourself than for me.”
Dammit. He didn't exactly have a choice now did he?
So, Hiroaki lay in what he wished was his death bed. His breaths were coarse and deep as he ripped and tugged at his hair.
“I-I- f-fuck. I sent him to that god damn art room. I fucking sent him, alone, I even knew he was going to be completely out of it and- and.. Now… he's…”
He's gonna be sick.
Hiroaki closed his eyes.
“Attention students
The time allocated for your investigation has ended
Please report to the trial elevator immediately.”
He doesn't know what's being said.
His ears feel like their ringing and throbbing at the same time.
All he can focus on is the blood coating Okazaki's coat, there's so much blood.
He's gonna vomit.
He needs Takeshi.
Takeshi is dead.
God.
There is no God actually, otherwise the only thing keeping his head above that fuzzy haze it so desperately wished to fall into would not have been taken from him.
He's starting to sound like Takeshi now.
He's gonna be sick. He thinks he already is.
He can see Okazaki shaking through the glass. They can't die fast enough, he personally thinks.
He blinks though, and then he's in his room. This is Ojima's thing, he's the one who's supposed to black out for hours on end while Hiroaki drones on and on about something miniscule because Ojima can't actually listen. If he could though, Hiroaki knows he'd probably only partially be listening anyways.
He can't do this anymore.
That was the final thread holding the sweater together. His last straw after having tried so many different things to stay above water.
Hiroaki Nakamigawa is not a good person. Ojima Takeshi might not have made him a good person, but he made him whole. Ojima Takeshi did not make Hiroaki Nakamigawa a good person.
He made him live. He made him want to quit shoving stuff near his nose and stabbing his veins with liquids that made him feel like the center of the hurricane and the brunt of it all at once.
So what the hell is he supposed to do in this shithole without him?
Nothing.
Because Hiroaki Nakamigawa is now nothing more than just a name; if that name cannot be accompanied, by Ojima Takeshi.
At least this time, he won't be leaving any pathetically sentimental notes behind.