Gold Foil

Chapter Twenty: Green Bird

Staring at himself in the mirror, Satoru bares his teeth. A sharp canine bites down against his chapped and cracked lip, turning the area around his tooth a pallid white from pressure. Dark eyebags stand out in stark contrast with his pale skin, making him look as sickly as he feels. The puckered and ugly scar that spindles across his throat looks almost silver under the too bright light.

He winces as a dull and aching ring fills his ears, making his headache increase to an unbearable level. Both his hands shoot up and cradle his head, tightly applying pressure because Satoru is worried that if he lets go- his head will split open from the pain.

Even with his blindfold on, everything is too bright for him, his headache begins to pulsate and for a second, Satoru sees double. Everything begins to spin as the buzzing of the lightbulbs overwhelms him.

It's too much.

Everything is too much.

His heart thunders loudly against his chest and a bead of sweat drips down his temple.

One of his hands begins to claw at his head, fingers twining through his hair, pulling at the knots. His other hand reaches up towards the light fixture as his fingers bend inwards like a spider's death curl.

With a hiss, he sends out a burst of cursed energy that rushes up and shatters the lights. The sound of exploding glass all around him is almost too much for him and Satoru sways in front of the sink, trying to keep the last dregs of his balance under control.

As the dusting of glass falls all around him like molten snow, it bites at his skin- burning him. At that moment, the last of Satoru's strength ebbs away and he collapses to the ground in a heap of shaking limbs. Satoru curls into a ball, still clutching his head.

"How much longer can you go on like this?" A voice asks, not unkindly.

He doesn't know where this man came from because his Six Eyes never picked up on anyone else even entering his dorm. Even though that should worry him, Satoru finds that he doesn't have the energy to even care about who this person might be. As far as he's concerned, the voice above him might be nothing more than another broken fragment of his mind trying to comfort himself.

"I don't know." Satoru freely admits, fully aware about how the wavering of his voice makes him sound so fragile and vulnerable. "I don't know."

"It doesn't have to be this way." That voice continues to speak. The speaker sounds so sincere and caring. When was the last time someone even cared about him? As long as Satoru can remember, he's been always treated like some sort of novelty object who doesn't need to be fretted over.

It feels nice, for once, to have someone take the time out of their day to check up on him.

A hand rests on the crown of Satoru's head, gently prying away his own clenched hands before smoothing down his hair. Everything about the speaker feels so incredibly paternal and Satoru is so starved for any sort of guidance and acceptance that he stops shuddering under the man's touch.

"I don't know what else to do." He hiccups. Under the tight blindfold, Satoru keeps his eyes squeezed shut as he puts his full focus on how the hand continues to gently pet his hair. As painful as it is for Satoru to admit, the speaker is the only anchor that's keeping him from losing the remaining shreds of his sanity and belief in himself. He subconsciously latches onto the man, much like how a drowning person desperately holds onto a buoy in the middle of a typhoon.

"I can show you the way." The man's hand stills for a heartbeat before his fingers move down and skim over the blindfold. "But I need you to look at me."

Satoru numbly nods, giving the man permission to slip off the blindfold.

From the light that shines from below the door, Satoru can just barely see the person sitting before him. Bright green fills his vision and for the first time in months, Satoru's migraine is mitigated. For a brief moment, he almost feels empty without the constant stabbing pain in his head. He stares up into that startling green that poses as his savior from his worries and pain.