Just A Little Bit Shy

Submerged in Reality - 11

Y/n watched the second hand move around the classroom's analogue clock. Most people would not care to notice the subtle signs, creeping in like black mold and infecting the air with spores. Class had been officially dismissed for the day, and while the (h/c) boy usually lingered, his reason for doing so today was markedly different. Yua's face had shown up in the school's corridors. Certain, select students were asked to the administrator's office. And certain, select students had not yet returned. Y/n would wait, at a desk by the large windows, positioned so he could observe the administrative office without hindrance.

There was no concern. With a stark lack of evidence, Yua was reported as a missing person and filed accordingly. She was given consideration, and not tossed somewhere to be forgotten, because she was underage and her parents were demolished with worry. Unless there arose proof of involuntary disappearance or violence, the police effort would be pathetic. Investigative questions (delayed by a number of days) of family and friends, minimal efforts, just enough to placate the community. And Y/n was left, in the wake of his own actions, tracing an index finger along the smooth surface of the desk.

The cheap grain of the wood could almost be a tactile reminder of the marbling of Yua's meat. Y/n's memories of that night were split and scattered, like the seeds of a dandelion on the wind. Not because that night was uncommonly long, one more pig to process, but more for the reason of just how unattached Y/n was. He didn't like to stalk, to kill, and then to butcher when angry. Anger was a dangerous emotion that risked impulsivity and mistakes. Critical, chronic errors that left their tiny, damning trails — trails that could hurt others, if the (h/c) boy wasn't careful. He knew, after all, he knew —

Motion in the corner of his eye caught Y/n's attention. He glanced over to see Ahane exiting the administrative building. The other boy walked out and then turned to hold the door open — Sara stepped smoothly through, following Ahane, and although it was too far to see their expressions, there was something somber in their postures. Heads close, they spoke intimately to one another. And even though Y/n's intestines twisted uncomfortably and his throat burned, the (h/c) boy did nothing. He was not so incredibly selfish. He was not so self-absorbed to the point he wouldn't bear it. Bear Ahane seeking comfort and solidarity with his friends. Friends that were much closer to him than Y/n was.

The (h/c) boy did not believe Yua was close enough to hurt Ahane, not truly. Yua was just the one Y/n could get to, could erase, without risking Ahane (he knew better now, after all. Not so much when they were younger, when people like Sara and Kei were able to slip through, but now no one had to ever get that close again). But Ahane had a tender heart. Y/n was not so terrible, not so vile, as to interrupt them now. He was simply... Y/n was only concerned. Can't hurt him, can't hurt him any more than I already have. Now more than ever, with Ahane wanting to be friends again. Even so, Y/n still... watched over him. As he always had. It was really... the only worthwhile thing he did with his time.

Once Y/n was certain Ahane was fine, he retreated from the window. Sara and Ahane would likely walk home together — perhaps anxious about their surroundings now that the undetermined circumstances of their "friend" had been revealed. Of course, little did they know, they had absolutely nothing to fear. Ahane had nothing to fear.

Y/n slowly packed his bag, pushing his books in one by one; sliding them into perfect little slots. His thoughts were finally free to wander off. He considered what tonight would hold, if he returned to Kisho's shop to work. Usually, his schedule was uncommonly loose. Unless there were set times for meat to be processed, and in a high quantity, Y/n's presence was not compulsory. There was a reason Kisho remained a stable, years-long contact in his phone. Still, if Y/n wasn't working directly in the slaughterhouse, he wasn't sure he was interested in working at all. He did not enjoy dealing with customers, and they certainly did not enjoy dealing with him either. Yet, at least all the fresh meat smelled delicious.