Chapter VIII - An Elegy For My Insanity

Three days passed in a blur of routine and regret. I attended classes, submitted paperwork, and fulfilled my obligations as class rep. But it was all mechanical, like I was watching someone else control my body.

Akise and I hadn't spoken since that day.

The earbud in my pocket had become a makeshift talisman of mine. It was a small plastic anchor that I touched compulsively throughout the day. My fingers would drift to it during lectures, tracing its smooth curves, checking that it was still there. Sometimes I'd pull it out under my desk, examining the tiny speaker mesh for microscopic traces of her—a strand of crimson hair, perhaps, or some invisible residue of her existence.

It was pathetic. It was utterly gross. Perhaps some would even call it perverted.

Utterly repulsive. But I couldn't stop.

Sleep had become a theoretical concept I remembered vaguely from some distant past. Each night, I'd find myself on that rooftop, waiting. The melody that had saved me refused to return, leaving only the wind and distant traffic to fill the silence.

By three or four in the morning, I'd trudge home, slip past my father's sake-induced stupor, and collapse into bed for an hour or two before starting again.

Regrettably, the effects were becoming noticeable.

"Kagami-kun."

Fujimiya-sensei's voice broke through my mental haze during morning homeroom. "Could you stay after class briefly?"

I nodded mechanically, ignoring the curious glances from classmates. Inoue leaned over with a low voice.

"Are you okay? You look terrible."

"Just tired," I said, offering the standard smile, one that required minimal effort and convinced no one who was actually paying attention. She frowned but didn't press further.

That was the thing about Inoue Yui—she cared enough to ask but not enough to insist on a real answer.

It made her the perfect barometer for how well my mask was holding. Therefore, if she was worried, I was slipping.

Essentially: what a mess.

The classroom felt overcrowded and airless, and yet despite that, Minazuki-san's presence was like limelight pulling at my awareness no matter how hard I tried to focus elsewhere. She hadn't acknowledged me once since that day. Though, she rarely acknowledged anyone.

Today she wore her uniform with the usual calculated disregard—tie missing entirely, top buttons undone, skirt short enough to make Fujimiya-sensei pretend not to notice. Her gaze remained fixed on the window, as if the world outside held answers to questions no one else was asking.

I remembered seeing strands of scarlet as I ran out of the Old Music Room. I wondered if she knew. If she'd heard us fighting in the club room. If she'd seen me after, stumbling through the halls like a wounded animal. I wondered if she'd care.

"The Cultural Festival committee needs the final submissions by tomorrow," Fujimiya-sensei was saying to the class. "I hope everyone has agreed on the theme for our class as I'll be expecting a proposal from our class representative. Oh, and if anyone's interested, there's a call out for volunteers to help decorate the front gates. Please speak with me if you can spare some time."

My stomach dropped. Between everything else, I'd completely forgotten about the festival preparations. The maid café proposal sat half-finished in my bag with missing details and the budget still unresolved. Another failure waiting to be discovered.

When homeroom ended, the class filtered out for first period. I remained seated, watching as Fujimiya-sensei organized papers at her desk. From the corner of my eye, I saw Akise leave without looking in my direction. His pink hair was uncharacteristically flat today. His movements seemed to lack their usual theatrical flair, though I wouldn't have particularly noticed beforehand since I was trying to avoid him at all costs.

And yet, I'd done that.

I'd taken the one person who believed in me, tolerated me since Elementary School, and crushed him with words I couldn't take back.

"Kagami-kun."

Fujimiya-sensei gestured me forward, interrupting my mental stupor. Up close, her eyes were kinder than I deserved.

"Are you sleeping?" She wasted no time getting to the point. The question was so direct and unexpected that I almost told the truth.

"Yes. Just stressed about exams." I lied instead.

She studied me momentarily as her oversized cardigan sleeves slipped past her wrists right before she folded her hands. 

"When I ask if you're sleeping, I'm not just asking about rest. I'm asking if you're taking care of yourself."

"I'm fine, sensei."

"Are you?" She tilted her head slightly. "You've been absent from our counseling sessions. You look exhausted. Nanahara-kun mentioned you two having a disagreement of sorts."

"...Akise said that?"

The thought of him confiding in Fujimiya-sensei rather than me stung. We'd always kept our problems between us, shielded from adult intervention. But then, I'd broken that trust first, hadn't I?

Regardless, she'd given me the perfect opportunity to avoid this topic for a little bit longer. 

"It's nothing really, just a stupid argument."

"Sometimes those hurt the most." She opened her desk drawer and pulled out a small card. "My phone number. If you need to talk, even after hours."

I accepted the card reluctantly, nodding.

"Thank you, sensei. I'll be fine, though."

She sighed while tapping the card. "Kagami-kun, what you're going through isn't unusual. Many students face similar challenges, and many find themselves in situations where they can't see a way forward. But it doesn't have to be like that. If you ever feel lost, please call me. Even if it's at 3 in the morning and you can't sleep."

"I'll remember that."

Unmistakably, she was a good person. But in the same breath, she was a person. People had their own lives to worry about. It would have been selfish to burden them with mine. Yet due to that very same premise that we were people, sentient creatures with private, precious, and fragile internal worlds, she silently understood that I'd never take her up on her offer.

And so, all she could do was leave me alone.

As I headed to first period, my hand returned to my pocket as my fingers closed around the earbud.

Three days without that voice. Three days of silence and sleeplessness, and shame.

The morning classes blurred together as they seemed to do so nowadays. English, Mathematics, and Classical Literature. I took notes without processing them and answered questions without hearing them. The earbud remained in my pocket, a small lump of plastic carrying the weight of salvation.

During the transition to fourth period, I caught sight of Akise in the hallway. He was surrounded by a group of first-years who seemed comically enraptured by whatever story he was telling. His hands moved animatedly as his voice worked in tandem to convey his theatrical storytelling ways. But when he saw me, the performance faltered—just for a second, just enough for me to notice.

Then he turned away, continuing his story as if I were invisible.

I deserved that.

"Trouble in paradise?"

The voice made my skin crawl.

Midou Rintarou leaned against the lockers beside me, uniform blazer unbuttoned to display the karate team t-shirt beneath, with a smirk playing at the corner of his mouth.

"What is it, Midou-san?" I kept my voice flat and neutral. I didn't have the energy to deal with him right now, nor the interest to fuel his amusement at my expense.

Quite irritably, his smirk widened.

"Just checking on our diligent goody two-shoes class rep. Heard you and your little boyfriend had a lovers' quarrel. Nanahara looks positively heartbroken."

I should have walked away. But exhaustion had worn my defenses thin, and the comment about Akise hit a raw nerve.

"Forgive me, but don't you have something better to do?" I snapped.

Midou's eyes flashed maliciously. "Oh? What's this? The perfect Kagami Shouma has an attitude?" He stepped closer, voice dropping. "Careful now. You don't want to forget your place."

"..."

The threat hung in the air between us. I held his gaze for exactly five heartbeats, then looked away—the expected response, the safe response. But something had shifted. He'd seen the crack in my mask, and Midou never forgot a weakness.

"That's better," he said, clapping my shoulder hard enough to make me stumble. "See you at lunch, class rep."

I watched him leave, his laughter echoing down the hall, mingling with the chatter of other students.

As I took my seat for fourth period, I realized my hand had been clenched around the earbud so tightly that my palm bore its imprint.

Seemed like I wouldn't have an appetite today.

Or perhaps it would just be easier to vomit.