𝐒𝐔𝐆𝐀𝐑𝐂𝐎𝐀𝐓 | 𝙨𝙖𝙩𝙤𝙧𝙪 𝙜𝙤𝙟𝙤 𝙭 𝙛𝙚𝙢! 𝙧𝙚𝙖𝙙𝙚𝙧

𝐁𝐀𝐂𝐊 𝟐 𝐔

.⋆ ˚｡⋆୨♡୧⋆ ˚｡⋆

SHIBUYA, TOKYO 2006

⋆ ˚｡⋆୨♡୧⋆ ˚｡⋆

THE SHADOWS creep along the edges of your room. you're huddled against the comfort of an oversized bear plush, its softness a stark contrast to the day you've faced—and everything that has been running through your mind.

the light above is a muted yellow, offering little resistance to the darkness that swallows everything but the sight of your own hands.

"tomorrow i have to buy a new phone," you murmur into the quiet.

it was your fault, after all.

you draw your knees closer to your chest as if to shield yourself from the relentless onslaught of memories.

the cold of the train station's floor is a ghostly sensation against your skin, a chill that echoes the embarrassment that had washed over you.

why, when he reached for you, did his face flash before your eyes instead of satoru's? you didn't understand yourself.

tears gather, blurring your vision, as you can't shake the image of satoru's wounded expression when you recoiled from his touch. why did he look so pained, and why did he seem to carry the weight of blame? it wasn't his fault, yet he accepted it as if it were.

"i get it," satoru's voice echoes in your head.

your brows pinch together, and the dam breaks. tears cascade down your cheeks, and you try to muffle the sobs with a hand clamped over your mouth, but they come anyway.

˚˖𓍢ִ໋˚˚୨🦢୧⋆｡⊹˚. ♡ྀི

the sun beats down unrelentingly, its rays like a spotlight on your every step. the bags dangle from your arms, a colorful array of logos and handles that weigh like anchors.

each step feels heavier than the last, the burden more than just the physical purchases you've made.

"woah look at that girl!" a voice drifts from a nearby cluster of people.

"wasn't that [name]-tan?" another voice adds a note of recognition to the mix.

"it must be nice being rich," someone else chimes in, their words laced with envy.

you glance down at the bags, a sudden realization dawning on you.

weren't you supposed to buy just a phone?

what were you doing with all this?

a weight settles in your chest, a mix of regret and something else—guilt, perhaps. the heat of summer clings to your skin, oppressive and unyielding.

looking down at your new phone—a newer model, but you realize, you don't have the purikura sticker anymore. you want to call satoru. but you hesitate, shame rooting you to the spot. he's probably still on his mission, and besides, would he even want to hear from you after what happened?

the thought that he might be angry with you twists in your gut.

this sucked.

the weight of the bags, the heat, the tangled emotions—they all sucked, a symphony of discomfort that you just couldn't escape.

this sucked.

˚˖𓍢ִ໋˚˚୨🦢୧⋆｡⊹˚. ♡ྀི

the sun is a relentless force, pressing down on you with the weight of a thousand suns, and you can't help but think that maybe, just maybe, you should've waited to buy a new phone.