𝗠𝗔𝗚𝗜𝗖𝗜𝗔𝗡'𝗦 𝗣𝗟𝗔𝗬! ━━━━ mao isara (on hold)

32. crashes (mao)

ᡣ𐭩 . no au | angst

Mao was in the middle of doing student council work - alone - in the office. With sitting at his designated desk, piles of various papers and files alike stacked messily all over.

The lights in the room dim their usual headachey yellow brightness with the sky slowly beginning to darken during the early hours of winter outside of the window, the darkness seeped through to the office and tries to battle with the electric lights of how the room should be cascaded in what swatch.

One moment, he was fine. His mind held no thoughts, only focusing on every paper possible. Some were complaints. Some were questions. There were various pieces to the stacks all around him. He couldn't keep count of how many exactly.

Then the next... his pen would drop from his hold and bounce onto the desk and rolling to a certain point near the edge of the said desk he sat at, the led always pointed towards one of the shelving nearby, it was almost like a reminder to what his work was about even if he already had the thought at hand.

His heart would ache with such horrible pain that he's come into contact with countless times.

A wave of sadness overflowing his once empty mind. Many thoughts for no reason would flood in, crashing his self-esteem to the ground as low as it could.

His cries would seep through. They begin slow at first. One drop every other few seconds or so as he tries to blink them away, wishing for this sudden action that existed for no reason at all to just disappear.

Mao Isara wasn't sure why he was crying. Why was he upset. But the feeling happens too often, especially when he was alone. It's like as though the loneliness that he sometimes wished for reminds him of all his harsh times, of all the insecurities he held within from letting anyone else around his presence to know.

He was weak, Mao's mind would remind himself.

He wasn't perfect. If he was perfect, he wouldn't exist at all right now. Perfection doesn't exist... and nobody can ever be perfect. No one can ever get to the top level of perfection. But then his mind would drift to the rest of Trickstar...

...To his other friends, other units, and other schoolmates. If perfection doesn't exist, they wouldn't exist too with him. But at the same time... they were closer to the ladder of it than him.

Mao's mind would always berate his own being. He caused himself to curl his knees to his chest from where he sat on the chair.

His head resting in his knees. Mao closed his eyes as he felt the tears becoming heavier than before. The downpour would turn into a harsh storm.

Mao then brings one hand close to his chest, gripping light at his school polo shirt above where his heart would be.

The pain always felt horrible every time the crash would come down on him.

Sometimes... he wished somebody was nearby when his crashes happened, but he felt fear immediately after at the thought. He didn't want to be needy. He didn't want anyone to see how imperfect or weak he truly is.

Mao Isara didn't need that at all.

No one did. Ever.

A few minutes of crying and screaming in his own mind battling for help and trying to figure out why his body wanted to break every day would then go by.

Mao Isara would keep his eyes closed, his eyes always stung with a burning sensation from the excessive flow of tears. Some would still burn behind his eyelids to fall, but they don't ever, even if he blinked his eyes open.

He would feel exhausted. Breathless for no reason at all.

It wasn't a panic or anxiety attack that he felt at all. It was just a crying session that his body always wished to release for no particular reason one bit.

His mind would still berate his own being, and then... it was silent once more.

The sudden crashes always confused Mao Isara. Why did they always happen? He wasn't sure, and he was scared to find out its true reason, but he let it happen if ever possible.