Assassination: Sweet [Assassination Classroom x OHSHC]

Break Time

Something was wrong. Something was wrong. Something was wrong.

His nerves screamed at him to stop and flee, screeching at him that his mother would find out. His hands shook and quivered, and he just wanted to leave.

There was a laugh.

Nagisa's eyes darted across the table-- the person sat across him was smirking, still heartily chuckling. He was stained in red, the hue comparable to blood, from his scruffy hair to piercing eyes. His eye glinted mischievously, his smirk bared like a weapon. He was a demon.

"Come on, Nagisa," The devilish Karma spoke, playfully and tauntingly, a carefree yet dangerous characteristic in his voice, "Do it."

He wanted to object-- he wanted a choice. But with the way his piercing gaze met, his opposition died in his throat. So, Nagisa brought his view back to the root of the problem-- a greasy, disgusting hamburger.

He felt grease pooling down the sides of his hands as he picks it up, wrapper crinkling in response—it feels sticky, gross, repulsive. He quivers, flinching at the feeling.

"Something wrong, Nagisa?" The way the devil spoke was condescending, his blood-like eyes glimmering.

Nagisa thinks. He normally would rebel against his mother— defy her in the most subtle ways. But when looks at the burger, shaking, in his clenched fist— he feels afraid.

His mother hated junk food— constantly checking him for any signs of it. Nagisa remembered her sharp fingernails pushed down his throat, clawing and scratching— mawkish vomit rising and burning in his throat. "I was rejected from my dream college because I was too ugly and fat— I'm not allowing you to make the same decision."

But, when he looked back at the devil, the demon, his friend, Nagisa knew he couldn't allow this bond between them to break, or else he'd be left alone, again— rendered desperate and isolated in the ever-swarming despair that life brought.

So he bites.

His teeth tore and pried through soft bread, gritty sesame seeds scraping his throat. A malodorous smell accompanied the rancid, oleaginous meat as his teeth pierced and chewed the meat, til it was mush. The lettuce crinkled as he bit in, the slick, slime-like juices from the tomatoes combining with the lettuce and leaving a bitter taste that clawed at his tongue. The cheese left a tangy, sour taste in his mouth, the gloppy ketchup assisting with the acerbic flavor.

Nagisa wanted to puke, the scathing feeling of bile rising in his throat. He coughed, keeping the food down.

"Nagisa, you hardly took a bite!" The demon called, his piercing gaze fixating on him. "Maybe you should try a fry?" His hand shifts into his own container, pulling out a tiny fry from within.

The fry was thin and stiff, donning hefty amounts of salt. Nagisa suppressed a flinch, reluctantly taking the fry from the demon's hand. The gritty texture of the fry rubs against his clenched fist.

He looked at the spare ketchup he has, pondering if the red condiment could smother the salty taste of the fry. He decided to go for it and doused the fry in it. When he pulls the fry out, he immediately regretted his decision.

The ketchup had an eerie likeness to blood, with the way it slid down the now-soggy fry, the condiment now covering the fry's previous sickly-yellow hue. Nagisa thought of the coppery, metallic flavor of blood (he knew that taste far too well, from days where his mother let her anger succumb her, days where she'd pull too hard on his hair, the metallic substance trailing down his scalp—)