There's Blood On The Train Tracks

✦ O4

— ✦ Warnings: A brief mention of self-harm, no other content warnings for this chapter.

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"Why didn't you answer yesterday?" A shrill voice blared out the phone speaker, his mom's contact photo being temporarily covered by the volume bars going down.

(Y/n) laid his head on the table, hands slack at the sides of the chair. He mumbled something under his breath and looked around for a second, making sure that no one had been disturbed by the sudden noise. "Got out of work late. Also," he furrowed his eyebrows, "someone chased me to the convenience store."

"Well, still, I get wo—" She stopped herself midsentence, "What do you mean someone chased you?!" The woman screamed—the (h/c)-haired man lowered the volume yet again—and let out a huff of air, clearly displaying her vexation at the situation.

(Y/n) pointlessly shrugged his shoulders, averting his eyes towards the cafe's menu. He was thankful his mother couldn't see him, as she had always hated when he pretended that was an answer. "Not sure what happened." He ran his fingers through his hair, slicking it back. "He disappeared after I got in the store; maybe I imagined it."

"The police won't help them." She sighed, audibly, into the phone. "Try to be more careful, please. We miss you. Are you visiting soon?"

He brought his elbows up on the table and straightened his back, taking his cell phone and pressing it closer to his ear. "Maybe... Uhm, how are you? How... How is dad feeling?"

"He... well, you know. He's better than last time you were here. You should come by, I mean it. How are classes? Not hard for you, I assume."

He clicked his tongue on the roof of his mouth, giving a light-hearted laugh. "Nah, it's fine. Just hate having so many chem classes; they're so boooring. Maybe I should have gone with administration like you suggested."

"You should listen to me more often, then you'll definitely have fewer regrets." 

"I don't really regret anything. Just wonder sometimes how things would be if I had done differently." 

"How is that different?"

"I wouldn't change anything if I could." He stared at the ceiling pensively, mouth pursed, as he tapped his fingers on the table. "Classes start soon. I have to go now. I love you, mom."

"I love you too. Come visit, please." 

(Y/n) pressed the red button, grabbing his coat from the ear of the chair and putting it back on himself. The cafeteria had only three other people besides him, two of whom were employees; it was the perfect place to wait until classes started, as he had always found great solace in empty and quiet places, and the sweet smell of coffee and pastries was a bonus. He picked up the empty plate and cup, taking it to the counter and waving goodbye to the cafe workers before leaving.

He could smell the lingering scent of coffee when he arrived at his classroom. The wooden door opened with a creaking sound, and he went to put his backpack on the table in the front seat. The professor of this course was notorious for being early and not waiting until people arrived to start her lesson, cementing her image as a stern and strict mentor. (Y/n) had already left a good impression by always being there before her, something most of the students had yet to catch up to.

The pharmacology courses weren't the most challenging but often required focus and a lot of sucking up to the professors, which meant that people usually lumped it together with the medicine courses; of course the (h/c)-haired boy would never blame them; pharmacology is sort of like a medical degree, just a tad bit easier.