heartache | t. muichiro ✓

bittersweet

「

"'come on, tokito. why don't you come closer?' the taller male spoke, a cigarette dangling between his two fingers."

」

Dreaming and journaling became an escape from your shit life.

Too bad you'd been staying up thinking about these two things, dark circles contrasting your e/c irises.

You rubbed your eyes sleepily in class, yawning and struggling through the lecture. It seemed that Muichiro shared this testament, the rocking of his foot from under his desk in an attempt to keep himself awake and get himself through this class.

"Just sleep. It's fine! I'll wake you up and take your notes for you."

"You don't have to, Y/N. I can take my own notes..."

"Not when your half-asleep, you can't."

You dug your nails into your palm, the pain shooting within your body as you attempted to write down the last bits of the notes before you'd inevitably succumb to slumber. Your head pounded and throbbed to a rhythm that had you nearly doubling over and passing out.

Once Mr. Iguro left at the chime of the bell, you slumped down onto your desk and put your head down.

Ume found your display of fatigue humorous, a small chuckle passing her glossed lips as she turned her body to face your desk.

"Cleaning time, bitch." She poked at the exposed part of your cheek, her manicured nail digging into your plush skin playfully.

You groaned and rested your chin in your palm. It seemed nearly impossible to keep your eyes open and your head swayed like a rocking chair.

"Come on— up we go— you've got it." She spoke, pulling you up by the hand and letting you fall limply onto her shoulder. Your current state seemed to be akin to one of a ragdoll's. "Or just rest like a potato sack. That works too. I'm gonna let you fall in three..."

"I'm up!" You stood upright for a quick moment before hunching back down again. "Nevermind."

Your glance moved to Muichiro. He seemed to be holding his phone and grabbing an insulated cup from his bag, steam rushing out from the open lid. The smell of roasted coffee beans wafted into your nose and alarms began to raise in your head.

"He has coffee..." You said, similarly to how a lunatic would speak to herself. "He has coffee!"

Ume noticed your desperation. "Woah, slow your roll. You really think he'd give you any of that drink? He looked pretty tired too."

"What drink did you order with the last of the money?"

"Black coffee. It's cheap. Not any better than tea, if anything I prefer tea, but I really need a pick-me-up."

"Give me some of that."

"... Fine."

And suddenly, any confidence you had to ask him to share some of that liquid Heaven perished.