The school day had ended, and the familiar routine of packing up and heading home was underway. I had volunteered to clean out the storage closet in the hopes of finding a bit of solace and control amidst the chaos. It seemed like a small, manageable task where I could be alone and work off some of the lingering frustration from the trip.
As I approached the storage closet, I noted that it was a little quieter than the rest of the school. I opened the door, expecting to find a dusty mess in need of tidying. Instead, I was met with an unexpected sight. Isamu was already there, lying on one of the benches and engrossed in a book. He looked up briefly, surprise flickering across his face before he returned to his reading.
I froze in the doorway, feeling a rush of frustration. I had hoped to have this space to myself, not to be confronted with Isamu, especially after the awkward and tense moments from the previous days. The sight of him in my chosen sanctuary made my anger flare up.
"What are you doing here?" I asked sharply, trying to mask the irritation in my voice.
Isamu looked up from his book, a hint of confusion in his eyes. "I usually come here to read. What's up with you?"
I didn't respond immediately. Instead, I stepped into the closet, my frustration bubbling beneath the surface. I went about the task of cleaning, but my movements were sharp and angry. Every sweep of the broom and wipe of the dust felt like an exercise in self-restraint.
The frustration grew as I realized that the door was locked from the outside. It wasn't supposed to be, but the lock was securely in place. I banged on the door and tried to force it open, but it wouldn't budge.
"What's the matter?" Isamu asked, finally looking up from his book with a frown. "The door isn't going to open like that."
I glanced at him, my irritation flaring. "I'm trying to get out. Someone locked us in."
I approached the window, hoping it might offer an escape route. However, the windows were the type that didn't open, reinforcing my sense of entrapment. I felt a wave of helplessness as I realized we were stuck here, together.
"Great," I muttered, feeling my frustration peak. I continued to clean, my movements more forceful than necessary. Isamu watched me from the bench, and his presence only added to my mounting irritation.
Eventually, my anger simmered into exhaustion. I was tired, both physically and emotionally. Instead of sitting on the bench with Isamu, I chose to sit on the floor, away from him. I tried to focus on my cleaning, but it was clear that the tension between us was palpable.
Isamu tried to break the silence. "You seem really upset. Is there something you want to talk about?"
I gritted my teeth, trying to ignore him. "I don't want to talk."
"Come on, it's clear something's bothering you. Maybe talking about it will help," Isamu persisted, his voice edged with concern.
The pressure of his persistent attempts to communicate pushed me to my breaking point. I snapped, my frustration erupting. "Why do you even care? You've been nothing but trouble. You don't know what it's like to deal with all this!"
Isamu's eyes widened in surprise. "What are you talking about? I've been trying to understand what's going on, but you're shutting me out!"
"I don't need you to understand!" I shouted. "I don't need your sympathy!"
Isamu stood up from the bench, clearly taken aback by my outburst. "You think it's that easy? I'm just trying to be there for you, and you're pushing me away. If its about what happened to Aiko at the camp wasn't my fault!"
