The Boy With The Blank Stare: The Promise

Chapter Eighteen: Habits

Saihara's POV:

In the fresh breeze of the spring I continued to walk down, glad I had some sort of plan.

If just to help Ouma, maybe none of these testimonies I get from my classmates will help prove the truth but I know at the very least it would help Ouma move forward.

But hearing the small stories spread in the class even back when Ouma and I weren't friends...to the heartbreaking last encounters...I could feel pangs of loss for the people I had never met.

But if Ouma and his friends had lived past that day...

I reached for my scarf despite the warm weather, the thought was disgusting of me.

But I couldn't help but envy the connection those two had. Even though I know where their story ended, and I'm sure it crossed his mind what might've been if she had lived.

Get your priorities straight. You're not trying to court him, you're trying to help him. He doesn't need someone to burden him with that kind of weight, he needs someone to help carry his burdens.

I'm fine with that role in his life.
I don't need to have him in my life in that way.

Still...I...

I found myself in front of his house, my mind had led me here against my better judgement as I cast a long look carefully I knocked unsure.

The door creaked open from the pressure, it had already been opened as I heard hushed voices. Worried I stepped inside, I could feel the stress coming down from my body in violent waves as I walked up the stairs.

I then was reminded of the cruel reality of what he was facing.

He seemed to have not showered in days, his body hugging himself as he weeped, not violent cries though but they were evident from the wreckage surrounding him, ripped papers and tossed books, the photo had been crumped and held tightly in his hands, the one thing his hands couldn't bare to destroy.

His sunken face turned to me as embarrassment covered his face and my guess shame.

'It's...' Ouma started signing but his shaking hands proved to be a nuisance before he sighed.

"I-it's you...isn't it...S...Saihara" he asked, his dry voice laced with despair.

"How...what happened?" I asked, Ouma didn't respond for a bit, before he gave a pitiful shrug.

"Habits" is all he said finally.

My mind flashed back to when I found Momota and Ouma at the rooftop, and how stupid I really am.

...I ignored those problems because I hadn't seen them since that day. I focused my efforts only on some of his problems, the low self esteem and lack of confidence. The reserved parts without focusing on the less desireable aspects of trauma, rage, sadness, self deprecation.

Even if he had a therapist now it didn't mean I couldn't stop helping him.

I sat next to him on his bed, his one still mobile leg was kicking the air in futile, while the other hanged off the frame awkwardly.

Hesitant I placed a hand on his shoulder to try and comfort him, he grew tense at first before he settled in.

We didn't speak after that, Ouma never turned to face me, unconscious anxieties and concerns we had for one another weren't exchanged verbally but it felt for at least this brief session, we understood each other.

"I'm weak" Ouma eventually said, those two recurring words, "you're not" I immediately countered.

"You don't k-know that..." he said, "but I do..." I told him finally pulling away but I held him by the shoulders.

"A weak person wouldn't still be able to hold onto memories that hurt him, a weak person would have let them go or surpressed them down so far and pretend like it doesn't hurt them.

"You didn't. It hurts...it hurts and you recognize that, you bring up memories of the people you loved, memories that must be so painful for you now. But you never let them go.

"Strength doesn't come from being happy all the time....it's knowing when its ok to be sad...it's being able to see those ugly and bad parts of yourself and accepting those parts.

"You are one of the strongest people I know....I know people told you that you should just be happy and forget...I would want you to be happy to...just in a new way, it can't be the same happiness you felt before...just a new kind..." I told him.

He didn't respond, his fingers traced over the picture.

"This...was taken when we were in elementary...we were goofing off during cleaning time....Riko took a lot of these in what we thought was a toy camera...she had so much blackmail..." he chuckled.

I smiled, "tell me more"