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

46. despair (mao)

ᡣ𐭩 . no au | angst

If there was one way to explain Mao Isara's life... It was like a vortex.

The further he lived on, the more he spiralled downwards.

Firstly, it started with his parents forgetting his existence entirely once his sister was born.

Then, the days he met Ritsu. He loved meeting Ritsu. Don't get him wrong, but sometimes Mao would like some time for himself or to not have his smaller stature stumble from Ritsu leaning on him so much. Was he even a friend to the older? He wasn't ever so sure.

With the days of being a student. There was so much work to do. Student council offerings, being an idol and doing general student things. It's knackered him out so quickly from the past two years at Yumenosaki.

In his third year, once becoming the student council president after Eichi Tenshouin left, his life got more harsh. People took the opportunity of him being the president to make the tasks much harder for him. They begged and pleaded for anything, causing Mao to crumble to his knees until there was nothing of him to use.

Half a year later during that same very year... Trickstar abandoned Mao, leaving him kicked to the curb of a busy road.

They replaced him, thinking it was best to find someone who was much more suitable and reliable - who had more time on their hands to help with the music side of being a student member of Yumenosaki and in general.

Even after he left school, with not doing any idol work for a while until Nagisa Ran bumped into Mao one day during a walk through town and gave him an offer to join Eden - to join Adam.

Their fanbase didn't like Mao for a long while, thinking that Mao was taking over the unit as a sabotage or to gain popularity once more for his disgusting selfish reasons.

A few fans stalked Mao, threatening him as time passed since joining Eden. Mao now holds such great fear of the world around him.

And now...

Tears never seemed to end from falling down his cheeks. The flat he lived in was empty, just as he himself felt.

The aura around the flat was cold and monotonous. The only light to be on was from the kitchen where Mao stood with a sharp blade of a knife against his throat.

He didn't feel fear. He only felt despair from life as he felt the metal deepening its touch into his throat.

Stinging pains were felt along with blood dripping its way past his broken skin, but it didn't hurt as much as his heart broke so many times over the years.

He was nothing but a toy to the world. To be taken and broken over and over until all there is left of Mao Isara is dust that nobody will remember of.