ᴘᴏꜱꜱᴇꜱꜱɪᴠᴇ, ᴏʙꜱᴇꜱꜱɪᴠᴇ (𝘴𝘢𝘪𝘬𝘪 𝘬𝘶𝘴𝘶𝘰)

3 | 𝖈𝖍𝖆𝖕𝖙𝖊𝖗 45 (𝔪𝔦𝔯𝔞𝔤𝔢)

do you feel guilty? it's alright, i'm here. i'll be the only one left beside you.

𝖜𝖊𝖊𝖐 3; ???
𝔰𝔞𝔱𝔲𝔯𝔡𝔞𝔶

. . .

back and forth, and back and forth. toss and turn, and toss and turn. replay the image in your mind. over and over again. dark, almost a void of a background, yet still, you could observe the splatter of the crimson onto the grey concrete. a single drop soon tainted your vision fully, until all you could see, smell, and taste was the bloody scene and hint of iron. your hands showered in the blood of your lover.

sleep, what was once your only escape from reality, now is potent of the sin you instilled onto someone you dared to call yours. simply put, now you were rocking back and forth on your bed, objects levitating about due to the instability of your powers, unable to get rid of the thoughts consuming your every inch. how it felt so relieving to pierce the life out of him ━ even with the eerie stillness that came after. the silence, before the realization and processing of the severity of what you had done.

a few knocks are heard on your door, and you panick. "shit, shit, shit," you rushed, throwing your, currently floating, uniform on, with dry salt on the tips of your eye from crying. undressed and out of your pajamas, you felt hand on your shoulder. the lowest temperature you'd felt since winter. your heart skips a beat, and you tumble forward, straight into the wall. your eyes blinded by turning on the light switch, you groan. 

you swore you saw his figure from the little dark corner of your eye. his bloody, corpse-like figure. and his hair and glasses in the shadows, dark but distinct. but there hadn't been, as you whip your head in that direction and let out a cry. "he's not here." you tried to make yourself believe. still, the thought lingers. he's still existing, even if it were to be only in your head.

your hair was still messy and your eyes still drooping shut, but you opened the door. your psychic powers seemed to be malfunctioning ━ still. people's thoughts went off and on in your head, a migraine set off constantly. you hit your head a few times, wanting it to all shut up already, but it continues and a high-pitched ringing sound blasts in your ear. 

the door opens by itself, your eyes closed and your body slowly moving downwards in a spiral, with the glitchy-static like overlay on your vision, slightly rendering the bright sun in a dark shade of black with someone's shadow. you looked down, trying to get the blur of your eyes to leave, and that your eyes could finally stand still. 

you knew it already, kusuo saiki.

you could hear his steps: once, twice, thrice. and finally, silence.

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

huh?

sat down on your regular seat in your class, you look around. what? what happened? you look at your hands, and once again, the memories flood back. the colour purple taints your head just as much an illness would, like an inevitable sickness that never truly gets better, only pauses. the time seems to rush through, but you look around for the man anyways.