𝐒𝐂𝐀𝐑𝐋𝐄𝐓 𝐇𝐄𝐀𝐑𝐓.

── .✦ 15

The next morning came, but Y/n didn't wake to the usual blare of her alarm or the bustle of students preparing for school. Instead, she stirred under layers of blankets, her body heavy and burning with fever. Her head throbbed mercilessly, and her limbs ached as if she had been run over. Every blink felt like a monumental effort, her vision blurry and her throat dry as sandpaper.

The faint light streaming through her window seemed too bright, making her wince and bury herself deeper into her makeshift cocoon. Despite her efforts, she shivered uncontrollably beneath two blankets, her skin clammy with cold sweat. A frustrated groan escaped her lips as she pressed the back of her hand against her forehead, confirming what she already knew—she was sick, miserably so.

Her phone buzzed on the bedside drawer, but she ignored it, too drained to check. 

Her stomach twisted with hunger, but the thought of moving sent waves of nausea through her. She knew the fridge was practically empty anyway; her mom hadn't been home for days, and the cupboards were down to instant noodles and a lonely can of tuna. If this kept up, she'd have no choice but to drag herself out to the convenience store for food and medicine.

A loud sneeze broke the stillness of the room, and Y/n reached for another tissue from the pile she'd amassed on the nightstand. She blew her nose noisily and weakly tossed the crumpled tissue toward the trash can. It missed, joining the growing heap on the floor. She didn't have the energy to care.

At the foot of her bed, Pochi sat quietly, round eyes fixed on her. Pochi's presence was a small comfort in her feverish haze, but guilt gnawed at her as she realized she hadn't fed her yet.

"I'm sorry, Pochi," she croaked, her voice barely above a whisper. "I can't get up right now... I'm too cold, and my head hurts so much..."

Another sharp pang lanced through her skull, and she winced, clutching her temples. Tears pricked the corners of her eyes, partly from the pain and partly from the overwhelming loneliness that settled over her like a weight. No mom. No food. No one to check in on her.

Pochi tilted her head, as if understanding her plight, before hopping gracefully off the bed and padding out of the room. Y/n watched her go, too tired to wonder where she was headed.

"Traitor," she mumbled weakly, a faint attempt at humor as she buried herself deeper under the blankets. But even the slight movement sent a fresh wave of chills through her. She curled into herself, clutching at the fabric for warmth that refused to come.

Time passed in a haze of discomfort. The muffled sounds of the outside world filtered through her foggy mind—the distant hum of cars, the faint chatter of passersby—but they only made her feel more isolated. Her feverish mind wandered, flickering through disjointed memories and flashes of recent events. Taeko's betrayal. Ayato's suffocating intensity. The loneliness that seemed to stretch endlessly before her.

Another sneeze ripped through her, and she let out a frustrated groan, clutching her head as it throbbed in protest. "Why now?" she whispered bitterly. As if she didn't have enough to deal with already, her body had to betray her too.

She closed her eyes, hoping for sleep to take her away from the misery, even if just for a little while. But the ache in her head, the gnawing hunger in her stomach, and the bone-deep cold kept her awake, trapped in the uncomfortable present.

And so, she lay there, surrounded by crumpled tissues and silence, her phone buzzing relentlessly on the nightstand, the screen lighting up with notifications every few minutes. 

She didn't need to check to know who it was.

'It had to be Akira.' She thought.

He was the only one who texted her consistently. Well, aside from Amao or Megamo, but they weren't exactly the kind of people to go out of their way to check on her.