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The sight of a shadow falling over their notebook made them pause mid-thought, glancing up to see who was blocking their view of the sun. They were sitting near the low stone wall by the field, scribbling in their notebook like always when a few classmates crowded around them.
“Open it. We made it specifically for you.” The leader, a tall kid with an unnervingly wide smile, shoved a small box in their face.
Their stomach dropped. They knew exactly what was happening.
Their fingers tightened around their pencil. If they opened it, something horrible would greet them. They’d scream, everyone would laugh at them again and they’d be the butt of the joke for another week.
“I… I don’t wanna.” The words came out hesitant and barely audible. “You can keep it.”
“We worked hard on it just for you. The least you could do is open it and say thank you.” A stray hand clamped around their sleeve, yanking them up. Another knocked the pencil out of their hand. They tensed, squeezing their eyes shut as the box was shoved into their hands.
Don’t engage. Don’t make it worse.
It was a mantra they had repeated a hundred times.
It had never worked.
“Hey!”
The voice cracked through the scene like a thrown stone. Their eyes flew open. The voice was brash and unfiltered, like it came from someone who had too much to say and no one willing to listen. A moment later, its owner appeared.
It was the loudmouth kid. The one who always had a sarcastic comment ready, even when no one wanted to hear it. The kid who talked too much, laughed too loudly, and for some reason had never been punched for it.
He grinned, and for a moment their heart skipped.
“Are you bored or just cowards? Only wimps team up to pick on one person.” His voice only grew louder, even as he was surrounded. He stepped closer, eyes glinting with amusement as if he was unbothered by or hadn’t realised the scene he was causing.
“...Whatever, man.” The leader scoffed, backing away. “You two can go be weirdos together.”
The group shuffled off, muttering insults as they retreated across the courtyard. They watched them go, stunned. They didn’t know why their classmates had given up so easily, nor why he had stepped in at all, but for once, someone was standing between them and the world.
When they looked back, he was already standing in front of them, blocking out the sun again. Now it was just the two of them. He tossed them another smirk, offering a hand with a tilt of his head. “So, weirdo, you just gonna sit there or stand up and talk to me?”
Their heart was still hammering, but a tiny smile pulled at their lips. The word weirdo didn’t sting as much, not when he said it. Like it was just another title to be used, a badge of honor rather than an insult.
“...Thanks.” They stuttered, accepting his hand almost reverently. “I don’t know how you did it but thank you so much.”
He shrugged, grin widening. “It’s nothing. The important thing is that I’m awesome and you’re not getting bullied anymore. You can thank me by sharing your lunch with me.”
They laughed—shaky, almost hesitant—but in that moment, something shifted inside them. It wasn’t just gratitude. A sense of belonging that they’d never felt before, even for just a moment.
He turned to walk away, waving a hand dismissively. “You coming or what? I’m not eating my lunch here.”
They didn’t hesitate to follow him. “Do you like orange juice?”
Vesper leaned back against the cool low wall beside the field, huddling under the shade it provided against the sun. They pulled out a small carton of orange juice, twisting the cap open before taking a long sip, savouring its tangy sweetness.
“Hey, what about me?” Drew’s voice cut through their moment, leaning over their side as his eyes narrowed at the carton. He reached out expectantly, already trying to grab a hold of their drink.
“What about you?” They feigned ignorance, leaning away and holding their carton just out of his reach.
His lips twitched up into a grin despite the scowl he wore over it, opting to jab their forehead with a finger instead. “Don’t be stingy. I want some.”
“Okay, okay. But say please next time.” They handed it over with an affectionate roll of their eyes, watching as he took a long gulp. “Why don’t you get your own?”
He flopped back on the grass, staring up at the sky. He stretched his arms out, holding the carton loosely in one hand and swirling it around absentmindedly. “You’ll always give me some of yours, so I don’t need to bother getting my own. You’re reliable like that.”
They took the carton back, stealing a sip before setting it down beside them. “Thanks?” They laid back down alongside him, mirroring his position and following his gaze into the sky. The two of them were quiet for a moment, a comfortable silence filling the air between them.
“...The sky looks better than usual today.” The words escaped before they even realised they had been thinking them. Vesper paused, fingers idly pulling at the blades of grass beneath them as they searched for another sentence to spew. “Sometimes, I wish I could capture things in time. Like with a camera or something. Then I could rewatch it and feel the moment again.”
“You wanna be a photographer?” Drew raised an eyebrow, tilting his head to shoot them a quizzical look.
They shrugged, unsure. “Maybe…but it’s kinda more than that. Like, I want to capture moments no one notices. The little stuff. Stuff that happens when no one’s looking. Stuff that no one speaks about.”
“Well, I can see it. You’re quiet so you wouldn’t like, disturb anything or mess things up. You remind me of a decoration sometimes, in that sense” He tilted his head, an almost thoughtful expression washing over his face
They blinked, confusion spreading through their mind. “Are you calling me an object?”
“A pretty one.” He grinned, raising a hand to poke at their cheek. “I mean, you’re in your own world a lot. You don’t seem to worry at all about stuff outside of you. It’s like you’re part of the scenery sometimes.”
“You think I don’t worry?” Their brows furrowed, hand shredding a coarse bit of grass beneath them. “I do worry, but I just dunno how to show or talk about it. I see a lot of things, people being hurt or hurting but I can’t do anything about it. I can barely even talk about it. I wish there was a way for me to show everyone what’s really happening. I see so many stories play out and none of them get told. Or maybe no one cares enough to.”
He fell silent beside them, the weight of their words sinking into him. Less than a second later, he propped himself up by his elbow, eyes fixated on them with a quiet curiosity. “So, you wanna capture people’s stories and show them to the world?”
Vesper nodded slowly, gaze drifting to the horizon. “Yeah? I dunno. Sometimes, it feels like people only care about it if it’s right in front of them. If I capture things they don’t see or care about, maybe something will change.”
Silence resumed between them once more.
They didn’t say a word as he reached over, fingers gently curling around theirs. He squeezed softly, holding on like he was saving the idea for later.
“Hey, open this.” A shadow fell over Vesper’s notebook as Drew stood over their desk, arms crossed with that typical smug grin smeared across his face. They paused, glancing up at him almost questioningly.
“What?” They squinted at the small, inconspicuous box he had placed in front of them. It had no decorations on it, save for a small stick on ribbon carefully attached to the center of its lid.
“It’s your birthday, so I got you a present. Open it.” He huffed impatiently, lightly jabbing their forehead with a finger.
Their fingers hovered over the box for a moment. Drew always seemed to have something up his sleeve, but this was new to them. Normally, he’d give them their present outright with no wrapping or cover on it.
When they lifted the lid, the sight of a small, sleek camcorder nestled in a bed of simple, black foam greeted them. They blinked momentarily, unsure of how to react.
“What… is this?” They lifted it out cautiously, turning it in their hands.
“It’s a camcorder, a really good one too. I saw it in a shop window and the sign said it was the latest model.” His grin widened, clearly proud of himself. “I got it so you could record me.”
They blinked again. Somehow, they weren’t completely surprised by this. It felt like the kind of thing he would do, over the top and unexpected yet somehow always about him.
“You want me to record you?”
“Yeah!” Drew’s eyes glinted mischievously. “When I get famous, people will want to know everything about me. My early years, my process, my rise to the top. You’re gonna follow me around and capture the important stuff.
“I want you to ask questions too, like an actual news reporter. That’s how people will really get to know me. They eat that stuff up. Personal interviews, behind the scenes footage, all that intimate crap. That’ll make them feel like they really know me.” He reached over, guiding their fingers to the camcorder’s controls as he nudged them to open it.
“Why?” The question slipped from their lips before they could stop it. “Wouldn’t you rather do it yourself? Or get someone better qualified for this?”
This whole thing felt surreal. And yet, something about the idea sparked a flicker of intrigue in them. The simple idea of being able to capture moments in time almost felt…exciting.
He paused for a moment, playful edge fading as his face shifted into a more neutral expression. His voice came out tinged with an unfamiliar softness that seemed almost childish in its insistence. “…It has to be you.”
They froze.
“I want you to be the one to record me and ask me things about myself. If it was anyone else, I wouldn’t be able to answer honestly. And if I did it myself, I’d end up just recording…other stuff instead.” His eyes drifted to their face for a moment, before shooting back down to the camcorder.
“Anyways, if I was the one doing the recording, wouldn’t that make it like a first person documentary? How is anyone supposed to see me then?” His voice lightened up again, as though trying to distance himself from his previous words.
“I guess you’re right. If people want to know about the ‘behind-the-scenes’ stuff, I’d be pretty qualified for that.” They slowly nodded, as if the idea was beginning to take root.
“Exactly. Just think, you’ll have footage of me that no one else does. You’ll be the one who tells my story.” He latched onto their shoulders, pulling them into a loose headlock.
Vesper glanced back down at the camera in their hands again, feeling something inside them click. They pressed the power button, the lens lighting up as they raised the camera, capturing Drew’s face through the small screen.
“…Happy birthday, weirdo.” He flashed a peace sign, grin turning warm and lopsided as he pulled a small carton of orange juice out and pushed it towards them.
The fluorescent lights of the corner shop shone into the lens of the camcorder, and Vesper quickly lowered it, adjusting to the harsh glare.
“They changed the flavor name again.” Drew’s voice cut through the noise of the store, sharp with frustration and exasperation. “It’s getting ridiculous at this point. Do they think adding more acronyms is going to make a basic 6/10 flavor any better?”
Vesper shifted the camcorder’s focus, catching him mid-rant. His back was turned, but his annoyance was clear in the way he gestured at the chip shelves, eyes scanning the rows of snacks like they’d personally wronged him.
They hummed softly in acknowledgement as they adjusted their angle, trailing behind him. He grabbed a few bags of chips and a chocolate bar, then tossed a carton of orange juice carelessly into their basket. They adjusted the focus again, catching the motion in crisp detail.
He glanced over, eyes catching sight of the lens and freezing mid-reach.
“...Are you recording me now?” He tilted his head, voice light but carrying a playful edge. His eyes narrowed playfully as he stared at the camcorder and without missing a beat, his hand shot up to throw a peace sign up.
“You told me to record you. I’m trying to capture all the important moments.” They clicked the zoom button, waiting for the camcorder to adjust its focus.
“Well yeah, but this is boring.” Drew lifted his hands in mock surrender, giving an exaggerated shrug as he gestured broadly at the mundane scene of aisles lined with snacks. “You always record me when we’re doing normal stuff. Who’s gonna care about that?”
“I do.” They lowered the camcorder slightly, voice quiet as if they hadn’t meant to admit it so easily.
When they raised the lens again, he was staring past it. At them. His usual smirk had faded into something warmer, a flicker of fondness staining his gaze. He stepped closer, his face slipping out of the camcorder’s frame as he raised an arm, hand just out of view.
“You’re a sap.” He spoke bluntly, but his tone lacked the usual swagger he carried.
The camcorder tilted slightly as they distractedly adjusted their grip. It unfocused for a moment as a beat of silence passed before they brought it back to eye level once more, capturing the moment again.
“...C’mon. We need more snacks than this for the movie night.” Drew lowered his arm and stepped back, this time with Vesper’s hand laced in his. His lips curled up into a playful grin as he tugged them forward, his other hand waving their basket. “Let’s get some real junk food.”
Vesper stared down at the application form, scanning the paper with an air of uncertainty. The Days Union, a new organisation started by a mysterious figure named Great_Day. They hadn’t heard much about it yet, only whispers and vague rumors floating around the city that always seemed to change every time someone mentioned it.
“C’mon. What’s the worst that could happen?” Drew nudged the slip closer, tilting his head as they raised their gaze to meet his. His usual grin was spread wider than usual, eyes gleaming with a familiar mischief that promised trouble.
They glanced down at the paper again before their gaze drifted up to meet his. “Dunno... Seems kinda sketchy. What if it’s a pyramid scheme or something?”
“It’s not sketchy, just new.” He scoffed, folding his arms and leaning back against a nearby wall like he was already some kind of seasoned expert on the Union. “Besides, I already filled out my form. You just gotta do yours.”
They hesitated, chewing on the inside of their cheek. The idea of joining something—of being a part of a bigger picture—was tempting, but something inside them still hesitated. They were standing at the edge of a pool, water just inches beneath their feet, but their body refusing to take the plunge.
“What’s the worst that could happen? We get unionized?” He pressed on, a playful smirk tugging at his lips as he nudged them again. “Besides, if this goes well, we’ll be rich and famous like I always knew we would.”
They gave him a dry look. “I’m sure that’s exactly how it works.”
With a swift jab to their forehead, he grinned even wider. “Exactly. Now sign it. And trust me—if this goes south, we’ll still be together. If it goes north… well, we’ll be on top. You’re not backing out now, right?”
“...Okay. Only cause you’re joining.” They muttered, grabbing the form from his outstretched hand. “Got a pen?”
He flashed a triumphant smile, pulling one out of his pocket and handing it to them like it was a sacred artifact. “C’mon. Trust me, we’ll be fine. As long as I lead the way, everything will work out for us. Just make sure you can keep up.”
“It’s about time honestly. Of course I’d be the one to get promoted, I mean—have you seen me?” Dreadful_Day smirked as he passed the slip of paper to Vigilant_Day, his other arm hooking around their shoulder with an easy tug. “I told you, it’s all coming together, huh?”
They took it quietly, eyes absentmindedly skimming the page without absorbing anything. A part of them had always known Dreadful_Day would make it. He was everything they weren’t, loud, confident and ambitious. Sometimes, it felt like the world revolved around him and they were just another supporting character in his story.
“Overseer of the Days Union. Sounds kind of boring, but I guess I could get it done.” He continued, his tone as cocky as ever. “Besides, with you as my assistant, we could probably run the whole damn place within a year.” He glanced at them expectantly, fingers tightening on their shoulder in a familiar, reassuring squeeze.
A small, heavy weight settled in Vigilant_Day’s chest.
They returned his look with a thin, fragile smile of their own and set the paper aside. They should have been happy. It was inevitable, after all. But a part of them wished they could’ve stayed as they were—walking behind him, letting his confidence shield them from the world.
“I’m sorry,” they murmured, voice thick with a nervous certainty. “I… don’t want to be your assistant.”
Silence crashed between them. They could feel Dreadful_Day’s arm stiffen around them, his fingers digging into their flesh before he abruptly released them.
“I see.” His voice was unnervingly even, turning his head away from them as he leaned away. “Well, it’s not like you’re irreplaceable. I can always hire someone else anyways.”
Vigilant_Day’s stomach dropped. He wasn’t shouting, they wished he would. If he yelled, the anger would burn itself out. But quiet meant something else. Quiet meant he was thinking. Planning.
“I’d like to, really. But it’s just, I showed my work to Emotionless_Day. And he said it was good, and that it would be good for the Days City to have a news outlet. And I’ve always wanted to be a news reporter—you remember that, right?” They could feel their voice trembling, words tumbling out in a desperate ramble. “I just…I want to try being independent.”
“Right.” Dreadful_Day picked up his promotion slip, neatly tucking it into his coat with a deliberate steadiness that made them flinch. He was silent once more, face still turned away from them.
“You know you’ll have to talk to lots of strangers right?” His voice was completely void of his usual cockiness and swagger. If they listened closely, they could almost hear the delicate strain he was trying to hide. “Reporters get swarmed all the time. People love attention, especially from the news.”
“I’ll push myself. I can try harder…” They were barely able to get their words out before he cut them off again.
“You can’t even talk to Benevolent_Day when we buy pastries. You don’t even say good morning or hello, just freeze up like some stupid deer.” His words sliced through theirs, growing harsher like a crack that revealed the emotions he was trying to hide. His hands tightened into fists, and Vigilant_Day could see they were trembling too. “There’s no way you can handle being on your own. You need me.”
He whipped his head around, grabbing their collar before they could react. His eyes, usually playful and light, were now sharp and defensive. It startled them, how they barely recognised him like this.
“You’re nothing without me.” There was a string of panic threaded through the venom in his words. “If you just stick with me like always, everything will fall into place for you. For us. Like how I told you, remember?” He tugged them closer, his grip gentle despite the desperation bleeding through his posture.
A small pang twisted in their heart. Hearing him spit their insecurities back at them made guilt and doubt churn in their throat. Yet alongside it, a surge of frustration was beginning to grow in their chest. He didn’t understand—of course he wouldn’t. They had always kept quiet and followed his lead, never questioning or straying away.
“I just want to do things on my own. We’ll still see each other, we can still hang out.” They didn’t understand why he was acting like this, as if they would never see him again. They attempted to ease away from his hold, lifting a hand to push at his arm.
“You don’t understand. It’s not the same, it’ll be boring!” Dreadful_Day scowled, shoving Vigilant_Day back—not hard, but just enough to convey the sentiment behind his words. His voice lowered, laced with a desperate, insistent edge. “You seriously think you’ll be okay without me? You’ll fail, everyone knows it. You’re nothing, so just… please. Stay with me, okay?”
He turned away again, shoulders slumping as if the weight of the moment had drained him. When he spoke again, his voice was still tinged with frustration but also a softness—a raw, almost childlike vulnerability that he couldn’t quite hide.
“You’re not ready. You probably never will be, you’re not cut out for it. I’m going places, big places. If you keep following my lead, you’ll be set.”
He paused, eyes downcast as if wrestling with something he didn’t want to admit. Then, hesitantly, he raised his hand. The motion was slow and unsure, uncertainty clear in the way his fingers hovered for a second before they lightly jabbed at Vigilant_Day’s forehead, the touch almost too soft for the harshness of his words.
For a moment, they faltered.
“But…” the words died on their tongue, gaze falling as shame tightened around the throat.
“But what?”
Silence rang out between them once more.
The fluorescent buzz of the store lights hummed in Dreadful_Day’s ears as he tossed another frozen meal into his basket. He glanced down at the contents of his basket as he padded over to the other aisles, the sight filling him with an odd emptiness. A bag of potato chips, some frozen meals—things that didn’t require effort, just quick fixes for when hunger struck.
He hadn’t realised he stopped moving until his fingers brushed over a carton of orange juice. His hand hovered over the familiar brand, bright packaging almost blinding under the store lights. It was the same brand he had grown up drinking, the one he always shared with Vigilant_Day.
His stomach tightened.
For a moment, he simply stood there, staring at it. His eyes traced the familiar shape of the packaging, the bold, childish colours. It would look out of place in his basket. He stared down at the drink, a frown tugging at the corner of his lips.
With a sharp exhale, he shook his head and pulled his hand away from the carton. He didn’t need to be drinking it anymore.
He tore his gaze away, feet carrying him towards the next aisle without a second thought. The coffee section. Something responsible, more mature. His eyes scanned the shelves, skimming over each label, yet nothing seemed to stick out. Fancy names, flashy brands—it didn’t feel right.
Finally, he reached to pick out the sleek, dark packaging of an expensive-looking brand, something that screamed sophistication. He tossed it into his basket, almost with more force than necessary.
This was it.
He made his way to the checkout, trying to ignore the uncomfortable weight of the moment, even as his chest tightened with the memory of something he wasn’t sure he was ready to let go.
It was just orange juice. He wasn’t about to fall apart over orange juice.
But as he stepped behind the queue, his eyes involuntarily drifted back to the aisle where the orange juice was still sitting. For a split second, he almost stepped towards it. Almost reached for it again.
But he didn’t.
Dreadful_Day scowled, tapping the tip of his pen against the edge of the desk in an absent-minded rhythm. His fingers curled tighter around his coffee mug as he lifted it to his lips, taking a long sip. The sky was outside still dark, the first hints of dawn barely beginning to creep over the horizon.
His earpiece crackled to life, a voice cutting through the quiet of the early morning. Something about an update on the Night Coalition ambush on the border of the city. He barely blinked. Dreadful_Day had heard a thousand reports like it.
“The number of injured or deceased civilians is unconfirmed, while one day [OPERATIVE] has been confirmed MIA.”
He took another sip, his mind still lingering over the paperwork in front of him and the half-empty mug in his hand.
Then he stilled as it hit him.
Wasn’t Vigilant_Day in that area?
The voice continued, sharper this time, cutting through the haze of caffeine and fog in his mind.
“I repeat, [OPERATIVE] Vigilant_Day has been confirmed to be MIA.”
The sound of his pen clattering off the desk and onto the floor barely registered in his ears.
Dreadful_Day lingered in the dim hallway outside of Vigilant’s quarters, his fingers wrapped around the cold metal of the doorknob. The house was unnervingly quiet, its stillness pressing in on him. He hadn’t planned to be here. In fact, he hadn’t planned on any of this. But now, standing on the threshold of their room, the weight of the past weeks felt suffocating.
His hand hesitated to turn the knob, fingers tightening its grip as a familiar wave of guilt crept up his spine. This was his fault. All of it. Every single part of it.
He had pushed them into the Days Union, hadn’t he? He'd encouraged Vigilant to join, like he did, like he always had with everything else. Every decision, every path—they’d always listen to his insistence. Choices they may have never wanted, paths that they hadn’t needed to follow.
If he hadn’t been so insistent on having them join or hadn’t pushed them away—or better yet, if he’d never met them at all—they’d still be here. Safe.
With a sharp exhale, he twisted the knob, stepping into the room. His footsteps were slow and heavy, as if he were trying to avoid disturbing the fragile silence. The familiar sight of organised clutter greeted him. The mess of documents pushed to one side, a book with a piece of paper slotted through to act as a bookmark, a jar of bottle caps balanced precariously on the edge of a shelf.
Even now, the absence of Vigilant’s presence hung in the air like a missing puzzle piece.
Dreadful_Day’s feet carried him to the desk, fingers brushing over the edge of the keyboard. He sank into the chair, eyes vacant as they fixed on the computer. He hadn’t come here with a purpose, hadn’t even planned on it, but something was eating at him.
As he turned to stand, his hand brushed against the computer mouse and nudged it unintentionally. The screen flickered to life with a soft whirring sound, almost comforting in the oppressive silence. The desktop was a mess of folders and files, but his eyes were drawn to an open folder, littered with video clips. At first, he couldn’t make out what they were, then it hit him.
These were videos, ones that he had asked Vigilant to take of him. Thousands of clips from before, perfectly preserved and saved. Moments frozen in time, carrying a piece of him he hadn’t realised he’d left behind.
His breath caught in his throat.
His fingers trembled slightly as he clicked on the first file, heart skipping a beat as it opened to reveal a clip of him. His every move, his voice, his mannerisms, all carefully captured by Vigilant. He could see himself, still careless and young and naive about the future.
He clicked on the next file, then the one after that. Each video was meticulously labeled, titled something along the lines of “Sleepover #14” or “Grocery trip for movie night”. There were interviews he had insisted on doing, along with simple, candid moments that he had left behind long ago.
With each click, he saw memories he had forgotten they shared. He saw the way Vigilant recorded him, always careful to capture every fleeting smile or laugh, no matter how brief. But it wasn’t until the last video that he stopped cold.
The file name was nothing more than a single dot, and when he clicked it, the screen came to life with their image.
The footage was shaky and the quality was noticeably worse than their earlier videos. Yet, it was the first one where they were the focus of the video. They sat at their desk, just speaking softly to the camera as if it were a quiet companion. For once, the camera was pointed at them.
“I haven’t done this in a while.” They mumbled, fingers tapping against the desk in a light, rhythmic manner. “I haven’t recorded anything in forever, really. But even though I don’t have anyone to record now, I still bring you around with me. I think it’s muscle memory.”
They paused, camera angle shifting as if they were adjusting the lens, searching for the right words. “...I miss him. Whenever I pass by a shop and see something cool, I wonder whether he’d like it. It’s like my mind still thinks about him even when I’m not.”
There was a heavy pause as they searched for words, gaze tearing away to stare at their monitor. Dreadful_Day felt his stomach drop, chest tightening with the weight of the confession.
They looked the same as he had remembered. Older and wearier, but still carrying the same, distant look in their eyes.
“I saw him again today. There was an incident near the theatre and some housing units were damaged.” Their voice cracked slightly, but they quickly cleared their throat, trying to brush it off. “He was there to help take care of it and I wanted to talk to him.”
“I…I didn’t. Couldn’t. I was too scared. Like how I was before I met him.” Their voice lowered, fingers closing into a fist as a note of resentment crept into their tone. “I was always scared of everything. I never pushed myself into doing anything. I was just… there to exist. On the side, never the front.”
A slight shift entered their voice, softening their words with a touch of warmth. “I only started doing the things I wanted to do because he pushed me. He made me do things I would have never even thought of, and it… it gave me confidence. He gave me confidence”
They were silent for a moment, before a sort of harshly forced chuckle escaped them. “This is so sappy. He’d probably laugh at me if he knew what I was saying.”
They trailed off, words leaving behind a heavy strain in the air before they reached out, hand flipping the camcorder around to face their monitor. For a split second, the lens landed on a simple carton of orange juice. The same kind they used to buy together with Dreadful_Day, before everything fell apart. Then the screen was nothing but darkness.
Dreadful_Day sat frozen, gaze locked on the empty screen for what felt like an eternity. His hand gripped the edge of the desk until his knuckles turned white, feeling another tight knot of unease forming in his stomach with each passing second. His body was still, mind trapped in a whirlwind of regrets and guilt that roared in his ears.
The room felt too small, too suffocating now, air thick with suppressed emotions and unanswered questions. His mind replayed fragments of the video he’d just watched, rewinding each sentence until they merged into a painful loop.
He needed to leave.
His foot brushed against something cold and solid underneath the desk as he stood. Glancing down, his eyes caught sight of a minifridge tucked away in a corner underneath the desk. He moved to open it without thinking, revealing a few cartons of orange juice, the same kind they used to drink together.
The same one Vigilant still drank.
A pang of something raw and sharp twisted in his chest, a mixture of guilt, regret and something sickeningly heavy settling in his stomach. He reached out, fingers wrapping around a carton. He stuck the straw into place and drank, slowly and mechanically as though trying to reclaim something lost.
When the last drop was gone, he stared down at the empty carton, hands trembling as if he was still processing it all.
With a shaky breath, he forced his body to straighten up, palm still pressed against the desk. He moved slowly, lightly pushing the chair back and walking away, heart growing heavier with each step. He didn’t say a word as he left the room.
The door clicked shut behind him with a hollow finality.