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The day had been shit. Complete shit.
He was late, some group of idiots laughed at him, the teacher made him explain the lesson, and that damn thought that Momo felt better with Jiji came back like a punch to the gut — even though it was a total lie.
Someone bumped into him. His glasses fell.
Scratched.
The person apologized.
"Oh— sorry!"
But they didn't sound genuinely sorry.
They ran off laughing right after.
"...It's fine..."
Okarun muttered, awkwardly.
A little annoyed too.
I mean, who wouldn't be annoyed by that?
He kept walking. Went to class.
Didn't even have time to talk to Jiji or Kinta anyway.
Straight to the lesson.
5 minutes.
10 minutes.
30 minutes.
40 minutes.
It's not like he cared about the class.
Seriously, who the hell is interested in geography at 7 AM on a Friday?
"Takakura."
The old, annoying teacher's voice cut through his thoughts.
"Huh?— Yes?"
The old woman tapped the board with a piece of chalk.
"Answer question five."
He stood up.
That feeling of being watched by nearly thirty students had haunted him ever since seventh grade.
It never got better.
Honestly, it seemed to have gotten worse, even after the bullying stopped.
The heat burning across his face felt exactly the same as when he was twelve.
Even after all these years, his stomach still dropped the same way.
"Uh..."
5 seconds.
His hands were sweating.
10...
15...
"Uh..."
20...
"Took too long. Next. Kageyama!"
Okarun POV
"Shit! Damn it..."
He sat back down and lowered his head.
Pulled his notebook closer and started writing again, only now with frantic, nervous movements.
And if only that had been the worst part.
A brutal headache started hammering against his skull during sixth period, pulsing behind his eyes.
"Ngh..."
Damn it. A migraine again.
He stood up and asked to go to the nurse's office.
Approved.
Thank God.
Cleared to go home, blah blah blah.
The nurse said a bunch of words and he understood maybe ten percent of them.
"You can go home."
"Okay... thanks..."
Home.
Key.
Footsteps.
The entire week seemed to weigh as much as his backpack.
"..."
Okarun let out a long sigh.
"...man..."
He walked into his room and stopped in the doorway for about twenty seconds.
The drawer was there.
Harmless.
He stared at it for a few moments, then looked away like it was something criminal.
He knew exactly what was inside.
But the pain was screaming louder.
He sat on the bed.
Rubbed his face.
"It's okay... you don't need that. It's okay."
That lasted until he noticed his hands trembling a little.
"Ridiculous. Why can't you just be okay for one damn day?!"
He leaned forward slightly.
Made his decision.
"...I can't."
He stood up and walked to the drawer.
Hand on the handle.
He picked up the box cutter.
Red.
Ridiculously simple for something capable of causing so much damage.
He stared at it.
"...No."
"...But..."
He rolled up his right sleeve.
His arm, covered in scars, was exposed.
His wrist exposed too.
He sat on the edge of the bed.
Stared at his arm for long seconds that felt like years.
His hands trembling more.
The pain squeezing tighter.
His eyes burning.
He clenched his teeth.
Hot tears running down his face.
His expression falling apart.
"Shit..."
"What the hell is wrong with me...?"
The blade already pressed forward.
With a clumsy movement, he dragged the cold blade across his arm.
The cold metal contrasted with how unbearably hot he felt.
Like parts of him were boiling while others were freezing.
A thin line of blood appeared.
Then a little more.
Burning.
Warm.
Painful.
Strangely comforting for a few seconds...
But only a few seconds.
Okarun dropped the cutter like it was burning him.
His hands shaking badly now.
The crying faded for a few seconds...
Only to come back stronger.
More desperate.
Almost hyperventilating.
"I-I...!"
This time it felt worse.
His body shook with small involuntary spasms.
He pulled his arm against his chest, trying to protect himself from something that couldn't be undone.
The crying was almost convulsive.
Everything he'd been bottling up for weeks crashing down on top of him.
One disaster after another.
A sudden wave of dizziness.
The tension in his face making the migraine worse.
Feeling nauseous.
"You idiot—
You pathetic—
You're seventeen years old and—"
He grabbed his head with both hands and curled up as tightly as he could.
Almost screamed.
Didn't.
Held it in.
Got up.
Walked around the room.
Blood stained his shirt and sleeve.
A tiny smear on his face.
His fingers stained red.
At some point his legs gave out.
He dropped to his knees, hands on the floor.
Breathing fast and shallow.
Fingers tingling.
Lips slightly numb.
Tunnel vision.
Everything hurt.
He endured that hell for minutes.
Several minutes.
Broken on the floor of his room.
Then it slowly started fading.
Little by little.
Until his heartbeat finally slowed.
A sad, exhausted calm swallowing the collapse that had come before.
He stayed sitting on the floor for maybe ten minutes.
Then got up.
Washed his face.
Changed shirts.
Tossed the dirty one into the laundry.
Grabbed whatever he could find in the fridge.
A cold piece of leftover cake from a party neither he nor Masaru had even attended, but someone had given it to them anyway.
He ate slowly.
It was funny how something cold, sweet, and colorful could still bring such gentle comfort.
For a few minutes, it made him forget everything.
Finished eating.
Washed the plate.
Went back to his room.
Sat on the bed.
The headache felt softer now.
Almost polite.
He picked up his phone.
5:30 PM
"...Whatever."
He didn't even have the energy to think straight anymore.
He just lay down.
Not necessarily asleep, but the cool air from the AC felt nice, even if it occasionally made him shiver.
The smell of ointment and bandages reminded him a little of what had happened.
But he didn't want to think about that right now.
Didn't even want to exist right now.
He closed his eyes.
Opened them again ten minutes later.
5:43 PM
He wasn't sure if he'd actually fallen asleep or if his brain had simply shut off for a few minutes.
Either way, it felt good.
Finally.
Some rest after weeks of pressure spilling out in one horrible breakdown.
Just a tiny bit of peace.