hypocrisy like a gentle lie

even i had dreams long ago

Titles will be from the songs listed above.

If there are concepts or words in japanese, please refer to either the bottom for end note, or for my comment on what it is
TW:
Self Harm
Alcohol abuse
Potential medication misuse
Tobacco
Swearing
Vomiting
Panic attacks

Uhh that might be it
Enjoy
—————

The alarm beeped its irritating ringtone, the sound piercing his ear every time it went off. The headache that wracked his skull pulsed at every noise.

Beep! Then silence. Beep! Then silence. Beep! Then blissful, beautiful silence that had the man almost nodding off again, but then–

Beep!

"Oh shut up already!" He groaned, ripping it from its cord and throwing it into his crowded apartment. His head throbbed as if jackhammers were thrown at him.

The blonde sighed, falling back down into his bed. He was tempted to go back to sleep–just to fuck with his alarm and his incessant coworkers who were keen on dumping their work on him–but restrained himself.

Recently he'd been on thin ice with his boss for "unsportsmanlike conduct". Whatever that meant.

Groaning, Tsukasa Tenma lethargically crawled out of bed, missing its warm cover by the second. He was excited for the weekend where he could bedrot, then go out for a few drinks and get hammered. After all, the best way to combat a hangover was to stay drunk!

Motivation found, he triumphantly smiled, right hand on his waist and left finger pointed to the sky.

"I Tsukasa Tenma, will get through this work day! I shall triumph through all hardships and make it to the end of the month so that–!"

"My name is Tsukasa Tenma! Tenma, written as "soaring pegasus"! Tsukasa, meaning to govern! I am Tsukasa Tenma!"

His heart panged at the cruel mimicry of his younger days, and he held his breath.

Tsukasa Tenma could light up a room with just his presence.

Or perhaps he ruined the mood.

After a few seconds, he breathed out.

Tsukasa waddled through the mess of takeout, clothes, and glass bottles lying on the floor to get to his calendar.

July 1, 20XX

With a marker he crossed off the day, eyeing the X on the 31 of this month. He dreaded and anticipated that day in equal measure.

He ran a hand through his unkempt blonde hair and shuffled to the bathroom, tripping and slamming against the tile when his foot got caught in a pile of clothing.

"Shit!" He yelled, groaning and lying there.

"Ugh."

He brought a shaky hand up to his head, massaging his temple in an attempt to rid himself of the nausea. If he tried to gulp up the air, he'd feel more sick at the effort and the smell; despite being nose-blind to the obvious mold that clung to his bathroom walls, on days like these where he was most sensitive to changes in setting, everything irritated him.