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It should've been me. Nanami thought, as he continued to stare at the wall by his bed, his eyelids were heavy and begging him to just go to sleep, but he couldn't. Tears marked his face leaving an itchy, dry feeling on his cold face that didn't show emotion other than the occasional quiver of his lip when his tear ducts threatened to flow. He had barely gotten up in days, his flat stomach growled frustratedly and his ribcage peeked out from under his skin but he ignored it, not having the energy to want to feed himself.
Nanami's head buzzed uncomfortably, the headache he got from crying was annoying but whenever his mind went back to what happened, he couldn't help himself. In his lonely, quiet room there were no distractions. Only the nightly chirping of the crickets outside and the check-ins from the others interrupted his seemingly endless sorrow. Even then, he couldn't even muster up the energy to speak, as if his jaw was locked and his limbs were as heavy as stone.
“Do you need anything?”
I want Haibara.
“You're strong, and I know you'll get through this.”
Not enough.
“Im always here for you.”
Haibara isn't anymore.
The worst day of his life flashed before his eyes repeatedly, torturing his psyche. He felt like he'd been rotting for days now, plaque coated his teeth and his routine of showering now occurred occasionally. He hated feeling dirty, he hated himself for being so weak to let this happen. But the weights on his body wouldn't let up and he eventually closed his eyes. This felt like the only way to escape this feeling. Sleep.
The next day, Nanami's eyes fluttered open, he slowly pushed himself to lift his arm to rub the crust out of his eyes. The sky was mixed with dark blue and gray outside as clouds slowly swirled throughout the atmosphere, shadows darken his room and he was comfortable that way. It made him feel even more tired but he desperately needed to drink something so he took a few deep breaths through his nose…and after trying for a while he finally got himself sitting upright on his bed.
His eyes adjusted to the darkness in his room, though there was a sort of fuzziness in his vision he carried on anyways. Pushing against his bed, he slowly began to stand up, trying his best to balance himself but his world seemed to be slightly moving another direction with every step he took. He made his way carefully to the kitchen, his head had an unexplainable sensation on its sides, but it wasn't pleasant. His feet would sometimes give out and he caught himself on the wall. Get..up...He scolded himself until he finally reached the counters of the small kitchen. He reached up for a small glass cup and brought it to his chest with a sigh, he leaned down in his small fridge and put water into it from a water filter dispenser.
He stood back up, stumbling slightly as he still struggled to maintain his balance as if all the time he's spent sleeping was for nothing, a temporary remedy for the torment from his memory. Unfortunately, he couldn't trust his own mind as his dreams would steer into that territory of the nightmare that was that day. He could hear Haibara’s upbeat and sweet voice echoing in his mind, encouraging him as always before they went on that mission. He appreciated him for that, but he never got to show how much and he cursed himself for letting that opportunity slip away from him. Now he'd never hear his voice again.
The sound of glass shattering snapped Nanami out of his daze, he let out a small gasp of surprise before immediately ducking down to the floor to clean it up. “Crap!” Nanami grunted, taking his hands back and looking at the palm of his hand…a slit was revealed in a crooked diagonal line, blood quickly pooling into the wounds and dripping down his wrist. The resemblance was sickening. His eyes began to water and his heart pounded in his chest painfully, he clasped his hand over his mouth tight to keep his cries in but he couldn't take it anymore. His chest rose and fell rapidly as he tried to catch his breath, a choked sob escaped from his throat against his unharmed hand as he doubled over.
The scar was like a mocking reminder, every time he would glance at the skin of his left palm he was forced to think of what he'd lost and everything seemed hopeless at this point.