escape
escape from reality
a slit on her wrist
soon followed by two or three
all covering both her arms and legs
until only a group filled with lies remains after she left.
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-trigger warning: suicide, self harm, bullying, harrassm...
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With a freshly bought bouquet of flowers craddled in his arms, the silver haired student marches down the neat path of the graveyard. A few steps behind him is his uncle following him deeper into the place. Shouji's eyes dart left and right, frowning ocassionally in thought. He takes turns left and right and eventually, after what feels like almost an hour of walking around for the middle aged man, he notices Mezou's steps slow down until he finally comes to a stop.
He catches up to his nephew and stands straight next to him. He turns to face the same way as him, his eyes fall upon the gravestone at his feet.
'[NAME] [LAST NAME]
[DATE OF BIRTH] -[DATE OF DEATH]
[INSERT FAVOURITE QUOTE]'
Mr. Shouji presses his lips into a thin line and smiles pitifully at the gravestone.
So young and already back to God, huh...
He glances at Mezou from the corners of his eyes and furrows his brows lightly. His eyes don't miss the solemn expression that his nephew hides so well yet not so well underneath his mask. He can also notice something in his eyes, a flicker that he can't quite describe. Mezou's grip on the bouquet audibly tightens.
‟I always wanted to give my respects to the [Last Names], but it felt out of place since her and I weren't close at all.” He speaks lowly, his mask muffling most of his words, but being used to it, his uncle manages to make out what he said without a problem. He turns to gaze at the grave again and only then does he notice the multiple carnations laid on the grave. Some are dried and dead, others still look as fresh as if they grew on that grave and weren't plucked out at all.
‟So you two didn't speak much, I take it?” His uncle asks. Mezou shakes his head no.
‟Not really, but I know she was a good person.” Mezou slowly nods a few times to himself. ‟And I'm not saying that because she's dead. I mean it.”
His uncle exhales softly at his words and parts his lips, only to then close his mouth again. He passes a hand through his hair and then drops it on Mezou's shoulder, tightly gripping it and giving it an assuring squeeze.
‟I know.”
His eyes fall down and absentmindedly stare at the gravestone. His face turns grim, images from long ago resurfacing when he doesn't want to think about these events.
The good people always leave first, and honestly...
He bites on his upper lip and pulls Mezou closer to him, sort of hugging his side.
