𝖂𝖍𝖆𝖙 𝖎𝖋 𝕲𝖊𝖙𝖔 𝕴𝖘 𝖄𝖔𝖚𝖗 𝕸𝖆𝖘𝖙𝖊𝖗 (𝖝 𝕱𝖊𝖒 𝕽𝖊𝖆𝖉𝖊𝖗)

9: 𝔖𝔬𝔲𝔭

❤︎ 𝙰𝙽𝙽𝙾𝚄𝙽𝙲𝙴𝙼𝙴𝙽𝚃: 𝙶𝚒𝚟𝚎𝚊𝚠𝚊𝚢 𝚏𝚘𝚛 𝚊 𝚋𝚎𝚊𝚞𝚝𝚒𝚏𝚞𝚕 𝚌𝚘𝚖𝚖𝚒𝚜𝚜𝚒𝚘𝚗𝚎𝚍 𝙶𝚎𝚝𝚘 𝚙𝚛𝚒𝚗𝚝 𝚒𝚜 𝚜𝚝𝚒𝚕𝚕 𝚘𝚙𝚎𝚗! 𝙶𝚘 𝚝𝚘 𝚝𝚑𝚎 "7.5𝚔 𝚐𝚒𝚟𝚎𝚊𝚠𝚊𝚢" 𝚙𝚊𝚐𝚎 𝚏𝚘𝚛 𝚖𝚘𝚛𝚎 𝚒𝚗𝚏𝚘 <3

❤︎ 1,110 𝚠𝚘𝚛𝚍𝚜, 4.5 𝚖𝚒𝚗 𝚛𝚎𝚊𝚍𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚝𝚒𝚖𝚎

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"You don't look okay," Lexie brushes the back of their hand on mine.

"No. I'm not. I..." A dull ache pounds in my chest. "A great friend of mine died in highschool, Lexie. I've never talked about it to anyone."

"It was around this time of year that he..." I added.

They hold my hand gently. "What were they like?"

"I've never met a person so eternally bright," I smile a little, my eyes vaguely focusing on a falling leaf. "He was never upset at everything. Always happy, that guy."

"That sounds... a lot."

"I'm sorry?"

"No one can always be happy, y/n. If he was always happy, then that's kind of sad, isn't it?"

That leaf floats through the air and lands in my lap. I pick it up. It's veiny and dried, the cues of fall's coming soon.

There was this time, I remember, that Haibara traded his lunch with me.

He had fried rice that day: perfectly greasy, topped with bits of glistening kimchi. On the other hand, I didn't have anything to eat. I picked up my water bottle to go lie down on the rooftop–intending to photosynthesize my hunger away. Plus, I learned that if I drink lots of water, I could trick my stomach into fullness.

But before I could leave, Haibara moved his chair to my table. Those were my early days at TJH. I was still ashamed of my empty-handedness and my loud stomach. I made an excuse to go to the bathroom.

"That's a coincidence! I think I might have to go soon, too! I caught the diarrhea bug and this rice is just waaayyy too spicy and oily for me. Do you think you can help me with half of it?" Haibara said, scooping his lunch onto the bento box's lid.

Diarrhea bug? That's not a thing. "I... I have nothing to trade with you, though."

"Ahhh! My stomach is killing me! Water... Give me water!!!"

Presently, I giggle but then crumble the leaf in my palm.

"You don't know him, Lexie."

"I beg your pardon?"

"You don't know him. You weren't his friend. So stop telling who he is and isn't supposed to be."

Lexie doesn't reply, only straightening a wrinkle on their suit.

I still think of that day, when Haibara lay on the floor, writhing with a feigned stomach ache. And then, a year later, he lay on the cold table of the morgue. Still. A congealed gash on his stomach.

"I'm sorry," I say.

"No, I overspoke," they reply.

I turn to Lexie, tears eating away at my powdered, rouged face. I collapse into Lexie's shoulder, unannounced. I don't care if they feel my rope cage anymore. A cage is a cage is a cage. They can touch it all they want but they won't have a key for me.