Reminisce | Mitsukou

V I I : s

Seven : You'll see.

―

❛❛When we become adults, will you forget about me?❜❜

― ✧ ―

"Meet me by the stairs leading to the storage room." The folded letter said, addressed to Kou from Mitsuba.

Kou felt his heart pounding out of excitement, feeling the rush of adrenaline running through his veins. A smile can't help but appear on his face. He was giddy yet a tad bit nervous. Because today, he finally realized something he really wanted to tell Mitsuba. And it was the right opportunity to tell him, since Mitsuba sent a letter for him after all.

He thought about what his reaction will be, or what will happen after he said it, but he can just hope nothing would go wrong today. He wished luck was on his side this time.

No one and nothing would be able to stop him.

A ray of light reflects onto the tiny shards of glass that was slovenly scattered in the room. However there were larger, more sharper shards than the others, tinted by red, dark blood.

The room was dim, a layer of dust sat above the furniture. It was a room that wasn't used for over years now. A single, tall mirror was on the center of the room. It stood with it's glamour and detail, for if it wasn't broken,

The mirror was beautiful, yet the person reflected wasn't.

Disheveled hair.

Crumpled clothes.

Deeply wounded fists.

Violet, bruised skin.

He glared at the multiple reflections of himself in the broken mirror, hating the sight of himself looking so utterly pathetic. There no longer was the light in his eyes, and his drought, dry lips could only muster the only expression he was good at.

Fake smiling.

On the wall, the was a single sentence written. It was colored in red paint, jumbled and looking almost chaotic, reflecting the thousands of emotions that he felt.

"DON'T LOOK AT ME!"

His head suddenly lifted up, the rendezvous he made with someone popped up his head.  He was going to meet someone he cherished the most.

Someone, that he didn't want to involved in his mess.

"Ah. Kou's coming."

His hand reached for the white cloth on his right and wrapped it around his wounded fist. He didn't care how painful it was, nor he didn't care about how much his body ached, nor how much his legs refused to stand up.

Because for him, all that mattered was that Kou is coming to see him.

He fixed his salmon-colored hair a bit, dusted his rumpled clothes, dried his tears, and hid his injuries. It didn't change that much, his pale skin was something he can't fix. He looked sickly and weak, and as much as he tried to look atleast a bit presentable, it didn't work.