heartache | t. muichiro ✓

cajole

「

"her eyes were blankly on him, watching each burn mark manifest and bubble as if he were a monster. he called her name over and over again like a broken prayer, only to be met with indifference and silence."

」

Your pencil scratched against the paper under the dim lighting, the yellow hues of your desk light shining down onto your words.

You sighed gratefully at the last sentence, ripping the sheet out of your notebook with a victorious laugh and holding it like a medal. The thinness of the paper made it possible for you to nearly see through the paper, the light shining onto it from behind.

I finished it! The assignment! You jumped around and quietly squealed before tossing the paper onto your school bag without checking to see if it slipped through the opening.

But before you could pass by your notebook once again, you stopped in your tracks.

Your hands itched to write. Looking down at the mechanical pencil in your hands, your gaze flickered between the led and the notebook laying innocently on your table. Rays of fluorescent light shone perfectly down onto it, your eyes twinkling at the revelation of this.

You cautiously moved towards your desk once again, as if it were unexplored and dangerous, and plopped back down onto your seat.

What the hell am I even doing?

A small ripped sheet of paper caught your attention. You jumped up with the agility of a cat, outstretching your paw towards it and snatching it with ease.

This was a polaroid photo, not a piece of paper. The cheap film was thin, floppy, and a bit yellow.

However, your breath hitched once you noticed the image on the photo.

"I have a bad feeling about this, Y/N... Can we just go home?"

"Jiro told me he wanted to talk to us. It'll just be a moment, I promise!"

"If you promise..."

"When have I ever broken a promise?"

Oh, loads of times.

"What's this, Y/N?"

"A camera!"

"Aren't these super expensive?"

"Digital, yeah. But this is a polaroid, so it prints the photo out onto film! Here, try it!"

This photo.

This photo was taken on the last day of your friendship, the day you'd never wanted to come.

The biggest promise you'd ever broken.

You could still remember it in your head. Like a broken record, he kept calling for you. Begging for you to help him, pity him, ...

... save him.

Instead of pleading with anyone else, he cried out your name like a prayer, or a broken record. His hand reached for yours, yet you never took it.