worn out.

B For Bored

He pretends to have heard everything Karasuma-san was saying. It helps that his face is steady, and that he's known for noting things. Karasuma-san doesn't say anything, doesn't ask questions or quizz him like Asano-san does.

Karasuma-san takes him to a room on the end of a dank, dark hallway. The cold still sinks in, his knuckles are still white―he wonders if his hair looks stark against his face, or if he tinted pink at the nose. Atsu doesn't ask, doesn't think he can.

His throat hurts.

Karasuma-san opens a door that would have barely passed a safety screening. Whatever chatter that went about stops completely. It's quiet.

The class stares at him. It makes sense, of course, he's an outsider. It's nothing new. This'll be like when he transfered to 2A last year. It's kind of funny how easy it was to fall―

(Once, twice, three― )

It kind of stings a little, somewhere deep inside of him. In his bones. The air sticks to the walls in here, it's humid, almost. For how cold it is, it doesn't make sense. Its―heavy. Heavy, Atsu supposes, like cinderblocks to his chest and the water ―

The teacher (Atsu doesn't quite know his (his?) name yet).. squishes up to the podium, there is no slime trail, like he thought. The.. thing, clears it's throat. It makes an off kerfuffle of a noise.

"Please," Says the thing excitedly. "introduce yourself!"

Atsu turns to the.. thing. He blinks. Once twice ―

"Hino Atsu." He says. His throat it itchy and sticky (he didn't drink enough water, he knows). "Please take care of me."

In the end, he's sat beside a girl named Okuda. She's a little squeamish, curling her fingers together and fiddling with the ends of her braided hair. Atsu doesn't listen when the class starts murmuring around and the thing fumbles to stop it, failing.

(Atsu doesn't really pay too much attention, though.

There's a window close enough to him, and his eyesight has never been the best, but he can see past the rusted ends of the glass― he doesn't exactly hear what's going on outside, but he can imagine it.)

His knuckles grip white on the straps of his backpack. His knees ache from― something. It goes kind of blurry when he tries to think about it. På would probably know and Mor―he doesn't know why he's still thinking about it. There's a lesson going on; it's half-hearted at best, but it's easier to follow that way.

(It makes it easier to ignore that crippling emptiness in his chest. There is something wrong with him, he knows. Nacchan isn't like this, but she isn't quite right either. She's.. she's― her arms are red from his hard she scratches the nerves away, and she feels so.. guilty, she says. She feels so guilty all the time.)

Reading off the notes is like unscrambling an egg at three in the morning while his door is locked at his parents are working. Atsu should probably work on his handwriting, but he doesn't need to impress Asano-san anymore.

(Its ― 

It was a kind of experience whenever Asano-san and his son came over, or when they would visit. It wasn't a fun experience by any means. Asano-kun us kind of a prick, but biting words aren't really effective against his stonewalling.

Nacchan always flinched though. It makes something in him a little looser, and it doesn't feel very good, like when he's gotten used to foggy weather.

Atsu doesn't like it― or, well. He doesn't care that much but he'd prefer not.)

Atsu blinks. His eyes are burning.

One, two ―

A blue haired student is scribbling in their notebook― notepad. It's different. It's odd, lilting

(That student was nose-deep in their notes, for what?

The chance to get into a good high school? What does it even matter, they aren't in control―

Oh, right. He should stop doing that, green is an ugly color on him.)

When the teacher dismisses them for lunch, Atsu is barely conscious. His head is funding around the sides, it's cold, fogged up. Like a mirror in a steam room.

"Oh, hey, uhm. Hino-san!" The girl (Okuda?) in front of him warbles. "Uh h-how are you?"

Atsu shrugs. He doesn't really know, anyway. "I'm.. good, how're you?"

"I―I'm a little nervous, b-but! The school year's been, uhm. Sorry."

Atsu nods, standing up. They're supposed to be outside now. The weather got warmer, but not by much.

The sun is an awful shade of soggy edges and dandelion fuzz. The outside is dry and cold and biting. Atsu doesn't really care though, he'll just ignore it. Like the ache in his knee that that burning on his neck.

(What was it again?

His uncle used to say something? Before at least, when he was younger, before the―

Before.

Something about disappearing―Atsu never finished learning German though. It's just―)

There's a boy wearing the uniform wrong on the top of the concrete stairs. Two steps down. Blink. One, two.

(Third times the charm.)

He's holding those vending machine juice boxes, and the wind is blowing his hair to hot-ash. His eyes are golden and he's smiling sharp and wide. Like a wolf that got into a chicken-coop.

"Hey, Nagisa," He says, slipping his hands into his pockets. "been a while, hasn't it?"

B is for bored;

I do not speak with words

For my mouth is sewn shut

With a thick metal chord

I cannot speak

Not with my mouth

Not with my heart, or my brain, or my doubt

For I am an empty shell of what was once a full cart

So I don't have vocal cords, or feeling of heart

I am an empty shell of what was

Stuck in a place that is never abuzz

What can I call this place where nothing is fun nor gory?

It is not on any side, I'll name it Purgatory.