Chapter Text
After Yuri took her leave from my house, I felt somewhat exhausted. We barely did anything too physical, but putting up an interaction with the girls became quite of an exercise itself—not negatively. I find myself acting different towards each one of them that I didn't notice I was high on adrenaline until I was left alone, or with Sayori. Now that I think of it, I act differently towards each person I know.
Due to Natsuki and Yuri's fight two days ago in the clubroom, we had resorted into the decision of me, their new, lousy only-boy member helping out not only one of them, but both of their tasks for the festival preparations.
I thought it would be quite a work, but I ended up only buying all ingredients and tools needed for both the tasks, instead of actually working on each one tirelessly. But the two were surprisingly fine with it that I couldn't bring myself to complain about being almost useless.
My room was spotless even after the crafting shebang with Yuri; she insisted on cleaning before she left—so did Natsuki about my kitchen yesterday. So basically, I didn't only buy things for the preparations, I also facilitated it. Thankfully. Not so useless, am I?
I stood up from my bed with a bound, taking in my clean surroundings—even cleaner than how it was before Yuri came. Whenever I was alone like that, I tend to just stare or wander with nothing in mind; meanwhile, whenever I was in club or with Sayori, I find my mind racing and active. It almost felt like my life was vacant other than the times I spend with the girls in the club nor alone with them.
Checking my phone, it was a few hours into afternoon, and the sun had slightly leaned away from its throne in the sky's axis. I mentally decided that I would have nothing urgent to do for the day and I could relax, but something was tugging in the back of my mind.
Check on Sayori.
I feel like there was something I actually needed to do, in hopes to change what would happen tomorrow.
Check on Sayori.
"Oh, shit, I almost forgot," I said to myself under my breath. "Did I leave the microwave open?"
Wait, that's not how the plot is supposed to go, isn't it?
My breath was ragged; I had run with all my might, as fast as I could, to reach her house from school. I didn't get where I had left her hanging, I clearly told her that we would have fun on our first date in the festival. I didn't bother knocking on her front door and just barged in like I always used to. She never locked the door unless she was at school anyway. That's what I was worried about: she didn't go to school today. She hadn't gone with me like usual these days.
I held my breath—
I practically leaped towards the staircase leading to her room. My sweaty hand shook as I reached for the doorknob.
Why was I so scared? Why was I so frightened of the thought of what might be waiting?
Check on Sayori. Check on Sayori -
but I didn't,
yesterday.
My hand slipped, but I managed to push the door open.
The world held its breath—
and Sayori didn't,
the plot wants that.
I saw my reflection on the window in her room, and it gazed at me in mockery, in pity, as it hugged fate hung by a loose thread. A crimson trail trickled from my best friend's fingernails in a futile last attempt at survival. The sunken eyes staring back at me, the metallic odor of blood that hung about the room, the cold, damp air that emanated from her lifeless body, the breath that was taken out of her—
the world held its breath.
What did I do wrong? Why was I so selfish? This is my fault.
Screw the Literature Club. Screw the festival.
I just... lost my best friend.
Nothing in my life is worth more than hers. But I still couldn't do what she needed from me.
Now, I can never take it back.
This isn't some game where I can restart and do something different—
RESTART GAME?
> Yes
No
NEXT CHAPTER? ↓