Work Text:
The faint light of the lamp on his desk illuminated Ritsu's dark bedroom. He could only hear his strained breathing and the cries of the cicadas outside. His hand gripped the spoon, eyes peering at it, at his reflection. He had tried a hundred times to no avail to make it bend, to manifest a power that should by all accounts be his. He would accomplish much greater deeds with it. He could be something else as an esper. He could become somebody. He was tired of being the good kid, of never crossing a line, always subservient, always compensating for his brother's lack of talent; bringing balance to the household. The task of making his family proud fell squarely on him, he could not fuck up, could not be a fuckup. It's okay that he still disappoints those around him with his lack of powers because at least he's decently human. He can play the role well, very well in fact. Now, if he could be both an esper and good, that would be truly impressive but, we are modest in our expectations and will settle for what we have. So long as he stays the way he is because if he stops being the smart and reliable kid, there'd be nothing to celebrate anymore. So be careful, don't let your grades slip, don't bother your brother, you should set an example.
He hated the predicament he was in. The feelings of injustice and shame ate at him. They gave him tremors before he slept and made him bite at the pads of his fingers when nobody looked. But he was tired of this image everybody had of him as a compliant, smart and good student. And these are not bad things to be, but this is not who he is nor wants to be. For once, he wants to live for himself and not for others. To not walk on eggshells, to make mistakes, and to disobey. The only way to express this is to act against expectations, and to disappoint those around him. He has contemplated hurting himself however, when the time came to use his instrument of choice, fear took over because he is a coward. He is selfish too, so hurting others seemed like an acceptable alternative. If only he could derive pleasure from it like his co-conspirator does. In the end, even when he tries to run away from himself, the same instincts still gnaw at him.
Though it does not matter anymore. Because he has squarely become a loathsome and terrible person for what he has done. When the truth comes out, he will be functionally a different person in the eyes of his peers and his family. His brother won't look at him the same way. Their reputation will be worse than that of the delinquents they targeted. Ritsu did not expect that such a small moment would escalate to such proportions. He wished being a good kid didn't make him a doormat that goes along with plans that still make him feel nauseous and retch on the days he remembered. If only he could lock the door and shut out everything and everybody.
Perhaps he was being dramatic. Maybe his classmates will forget and forgive him for his actions. He could almost imagine a world where he is not a bad person. He's changed a lot since he'd begun to worry about himself after all. They say there's hope for the future. He'd hoped he could have psychic powers years ago, he doesn't have them now. But maybe the future will bring his wishes to fruition. He just has to wait. He is young and life hasn't even begun. Life will not pass him by as he waits and waits. He's heard it all before: you need to be patient because you can't have everything in life. And maybe what you want is bad for you anyway, like a poison. Even though waiting is withering your heart and mind slowly.
The contemplation breaks the illusion, you remember that what you seek is definitively out of sight unless a miracle descends upon you, which is another way of saying, you will never have it. A future where you are a decent person and have powers does not exist. You have nothing to look forward to, not even an end to anticipate. His eyes hurt and throat constrict. A fever is coming on. He has a meeting in a few hours. Many already hate him and his secret is only his. He'll look everybody in the eyes and pretend he is okay with this state of affairs. Even those who commend him for what he did will make him feel even more disgusted with himself.
You can't let others get close to you even as one the "popular" boys. If anybody's gaze descends upon you, they are locking you into this persona you hate. If they recognize that something is beyond the facade, they will almost likely turn away at what you really are: a nobody. When they realize it, they will feel betrayed, led on into an fake life when they could have been with a real person. And you're not just saying this because you were born a... you're not. In a flash, you're back in your room.
You're seated at your desk, your posture poor and back straining. Your eyes fall on the metallic surface, heavy eyes and a subtle grimace glare back at you. Your eyes hurt. You hate what you see. It's all your fault, so you can't blame everybody for turning out to be a fuckup and cheap imitation of a human. He smashed the metal against the ground with a scowl. Nobody will worry enough to ask him about the noise.