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Chihiro

Waking up sometimes is a struggle. Throwing on blouses and cardigans and skirts with tight elastic waists that pinch at his sides leaves Chihiro exhausted before the day even begins.

The tulle is the worst. Constantly brushing against his skin as though he needs a reminder of why today will be awful.

It's not the clothes themselves, he may dislike them but there are plenty of clothes he dislikes, it's more what they mean.

They mean another day of hiding.

It's shocking how femininity allows people to be emotional and vulnerable in a way masculinity can't, how it's turned Chihiro's most undesirable traits into something endearing. He should be happy, shouldn't he?

No more bullying or cruelty thrown his way for being too sensitive, no more being told he deserves it for being such a crybaby - all the things that used to make him miserable have stopped.

So why can't he stand looking at his own reflection after getting dressed in the morning?

He doesn't skip breakfast despite how much he wants to. It would concern the others.

Chihiro feels his chest tighten as he sits among his classmates. The secret motive has been a nightmare for everyone - the idea of things so personal, so delicate being revealed to people who are little more than acquaintances is terrifying.

Every interaction is tainted by the thought of whether they would understand or judge, and what have they done? What's their secret? If it's worse, it could be a concern but on the other hand, maybe that's a good thing. If one person has a truly atrocious secret then others will seem lesser, more acceptable in comparison, right?

It's a selfish way to think, Chihiro knows. He also knows that that line of thought is dangerous because if anyone is too invested in keeping their secret, they may resort to murder - of someone else or of...

Makoto asks Chihiro something. The words are little more than a buzz in Chihiro's ears as he passes the pepper shaker over to Makoto.

There's laughing. For a moment, it's nice (with everything that's happened recently, everyone has been so withdrawn from each other) until he realises they're laughing at him.

Why is everyone laughing at him?

Tears prickle at his eyes and Chihiro's vision goes blurry.

Sakura's sitting at the other side of the table with Aoi. Aoi is also laughing if her shaking shoulders are anything to go by but Sakura simply sits there. Her blurred head tilts and her hand reaches out.

Chihiro's knees knock against the table hard as he flinches. It takes a moment to realise that Sakura is pointing to the salt shaker.

Salt. Makoto had asked for salt, not pepper.

Chihiro passes it to Makota and gives Sakura a faint, shaking smile. The laughter has died down to quiet chatter.

Aoi looks up at Sakura, grinning (her teeth are white, stark enough that even blurred they stand out from her skin) before going still at whatever she must see there. She looks over at Chihiro. He smiles.

His eyelashes are wet.

Aoi might have tried talking to him, if he didn't get up, scrape the remaining food off his plate and swiftly leave.

___________________________________________

Time flies by and before anyone knows it, curfew has come swooping down upon them all like a vulture on midnight winds.

Chihiro sits by the pool, socks and shoes off to one side as he dips his feet into the water. It's careless of him to be out - Sayaka and Leon both died at night - but ultimately, stowing away in his room feels wrong.