Lavender | Wakatoshi Ushijima

29 | Grieve

"Hello," he whispers below his breath. His hand is slightly rising, almost completing the shape of a waving hand.

Wakatoshi is walking down the main hall of the third years' building, on his way to literature class. He begins his habitual 'hello' with a wave. He isn't the outspoken type, meaning he'd say it in a low voice, and she would complete it. She's usually start the conversation with her audible 'Hey!' Then, he'd respond.

That beginning of his customary greeting takes an uncustomary stop. It isn't completed. Rather, it isn't reciprocated.

It takes him a second to register her pass by. She is in a throng of people rushing to their next class, yet he spots her.

Maybe she's stressed, he thinks. Though, she always finds him and greets him in the hall.

He can't deny the crawling feeling that the play could be affecting her. She's been distant since then, not responding to his texts in her recognizable manner. That's the last thought that comes to mind. It doesn't make any sense to him. It doesn't, but it's a hunch.

He walks to class in silence, holding onto his textbook. He can't feel his pulse elevating and his positivity coming around like usual after he greets Hana in the halls. She always leaves him thinking of a blossoming new idea or a question every time.

I wonder when our next tutoring session is.
I think I should visit Mrs. Suzuki.
I wonder which flowers are going to bloom soon.

He lets it go and steps into the classroom, less uplifted than usual. Hana, on the other hand, is in the torturing hell of her own brain.

I have to leave him alone. I can't bother him anymore. He doesn't need me, so I shouldn't need him. I shouldn't want to be around him. Forget him. I have school to worry about right now.  I'm in school to learn. Did I bring my extra psychology research in? Yes I did. I checked. I'll check again, to be sure. Okay, I have it. Focus, Hana, focus. Detach.

It all loops between doubts, regret, guilt, and brewing exhaustion in every corner of her head. It won't leave her alone.

She enters the school's gates in a composed matter. The kind of composure that doesn't allow her to fall apart. The composure where she has to please everyone but herself. The kind that won't give her time to care for herself. Rather, she never tries. She has never believed in a person 'taking care of themselves,' as Kiyomi stated briefly in a conversation. It's simply a waste of time. 

How do you take care of yourself? Pamper yourself with worthless luxuries? That's an even bigger waste of time to her. The work she can invest her time in instead may be the same work getting her into the best university in the entire country. All of it could be waiting for her. She's chasing it from now on, she has to focus on the bigger picture.

Her stress and gloominess are the easiest things to try to let go. She's used to bottling them in an opaque glass bottle that floats away into the sea of her memory. 

Who could've imagined that an individual thought can be reincarnated as a physical tear to be shed?

She knows Wakatoshi doesn't love her. She doesn't have the blond hair. The kind that would look its best with no effort. She has bland brown hair that she anxiously fixes in every mirror she finds. She doesn't have the ultimate complexion or the athleticism. She's not enough for him nor will she ever be. So why should she try?

She's eighteen now, an adult. She's fully capable of taking care of her own problems. Her stress and sorrow are relinquished in the the form of salty tears into her softest pillow. Tear after tear after tear, they keep on going. She waits all day to let them out. Slowly, she breaks into strong sobs.

You'd think she's hallucinating. She never fully lets her feelings go, because they come back each night to pester her heart, again and again.

She gets a throbbing headache after the cries that strain her. Still weeping, she washes her face with cold water and lets her hair down. The water relaxes her. Rather, it forces her to relax and stop crying. Momentarily, it takes her thoughts away too. Deep into the night, it's around three in the morning when she decides that she'll fully detach. When she's torn into shreds. 

She takes her pills as gently as she can. The damage is done, she's too exhausted to care. Throwing the damp pillow under her bed to dry over night. She gets under her oddly thick blanket, tucks herself in, and lays her head down to finally drowse with burning eyes and a pounding head.

This is her new routine. And, soon enough, she remains that way for a week. She picks listening to her self-consciousness and drowning in agony, rather than reading to make her fall asleep, as she used to do. This is her life, and she has no way to escape her own mind. The silence of the walls of her room won't save her. She has to salvage what's left of her willpower and move forward.

As of now, two weeks since the play, the weight of her schoolwork, health, body image, and all else are stronger than ever. She decides to give him distance, so she can let him be. So she can learn to detach from people who don't need her. She needs to focus. Her parents would be disappointed to see her heartbroken. Love stories are pointless. They don't grant you success.

'Focus on your academics right now, Hana. Don't be stupid,' she repeats to herself, pressing her eyes shut.

She heads to her next class, mentally drained and physically exhausted, dragging herself down the hall, obliviously walking past a confound Wakatoshi who awaits her colorful greeting.

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Author: Hello everyone! I'm so exhilarated to present to you, the 29th chapter!! We're almost at 30! I'm super happy you've made it this far.

Happy reading! <3