heartache | t. muichiro

driven

emergency a/n: graphic depictions of violence.

「

"but, a merciful part of him screamed at him to refrain from doing so. so, he let the bitterness of this contemplation slide down his throat as he swallowed any remainder of remorse."

」

As soon as you slid the door to the classroom open, you could feel everyone's searing gaze on you. You stood idly in the doorway as your eyes flickered to meet each of your classmates', taking note of Muichiro's empty seat. A mix of disgust, curiosity, and judgment clouded the air of the cramped space, a silent tension present.

"Fucking skeezes." You muttered, just quiet enough to leave everyone curious about what you'd said.

Ume anxiously twiddled her thumbs as she watched you approach your desk, the one directly next to her. Her eyes remained averted as the room grew loud once again with gossiping and whispers.

"Who rammed a stick up everyone's ass today?" You asked whilst hanging your bag on the back of your seat.

"It might seem crazy what I'm 'bout to say," Ume began. "But..."

"But?"

"EveryonethinksyousleptwithJiroandMuichiroandJirotoldeveryonethathavingsexwithyouwashotasfuck." Ume's hands moved to cover her mouth as soon as she was done, blue eyes wide and horrified. "Sorry." She blurted.

Words failed you as you found yourself nearly dropping the pencil in your hands, the utter shock of it all making you freeze and blink slowly. "What?"

"Yeah..."

That's why... You furiously shut your textbook and stood up, grabbing your school bag. "I'm skipping. Wanna come with?"

"Skipping in this economy?" Ume looked up at you before nearing falling out of her seat. "Oh shit, you're serious. Y'know what? I'm down. I have an plug if you're really looking to get fucked up--"

"Yeah, yeah. Sure. Whatever."

--

"Is it true you really slept with her?"

"For the last time, fuck off. I didn't sleep with anybody. Quit indulging in conspiracy and find something better to do." Muichiro angrily stormed out of the class, the legs of his chair making a loud scratching noise against wood flooring while clenching your test paper in his hand.

He stuffed his free hand in his pocket and whipped out his phone, pushing the familiar pattern of numbers and holding the device to his ear just to be met with your voicemail.

~

Y/N

Hey.
Where are you? I know you came to school.
Please don't tell me you're skipping.
You did really good on your test: eighty percent.

~

"So, like, how the fuck do you do this?" You asked whilst taking a cigarette from the large box and holding it with two hands.