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The world c̸̬̪̈́̓ọ̵͗͘l̵͕̱̭̘̚l̶͈͍̀͒͆͜͠a̴̧͙̕̚p̵̪͇̻͕̈́͘̚s̶̨̹̊̉̓̅e̵̪̍̄͋d̴͔͊͠.̸̡̛̳͈ͅ
R̷̨̟͈̩̅̓͝ÿ̸̘͈́̇͘͠u̶̺͚̐y̸͙̻̻̿̀͜a̶͙̻͓̼͋̇ ̶̠̪̓̅w̶̙̳͋̂̔ä̷̝́s̴̱͎̊ ̷̨͙̃̈́̐͜f̸͔͝a̸̦͙̿̿̃̚l̸̗̘̮͙̾l̸̨̺̣̮͗͊́͝ỉ̸̘̋n̵̨̋̾ģ̷̜̪̔͂͠.̴̦͐̀
The rooftop had d̵i̷s̵a̵p̴p̶e̸a̵r̴e̸d̸.̶ ̴
No edge, no railing, no school.
Only the sky, stretching endlessly in every direction,
gray and infinite.
Below, something dark loomed, vast and silent.
Ẅ̷̲a̴̟͍̾̓́t̸̢̡̻̊é̷̡̼̜r̶̢̪͍̍̿̕.̴̱̏̅
S̸t̸i̸l̸l̶ ̷a̸n̴d̷ ̶u̶n̷m̶o̶v̵i̵n̷g̷.̸
̵I̷t̷ ̸r̵u̶s̶h̴e̷d̵ ̵t̷o̸w̸a̴r̵d̴ ̸h̸i̶m̸—̵
n̴o̶,̶
̴h̸e̴ ̶w̸a̵s̷ ̸b̴e̴i̵n̶g̸ ̵p̵u̴l̴l̷e̸d̸ ̷t̶o̸w̶a̶r̴d̶ ̷i̴t̴.̷
His limbs wouldn't move, wouldn't flail.
His body didn't belong to him anymore.
He hit the surface.
No splash. No impact. Just silence.
The water wrapped around him, swallowing him whole,
but it wasn’t water.
It had no weight, no resistance—only a quiet, crushing presence,
like sinking into nothingness.
His breath didn’t exist.
His body wasn’t ř̸̢̛͝͝ͅe̴̟̅̅̏̚ą̶̨̝̊͑̕͝l̷̲̠̼͖̽͋͜.̴̲̎̓̐ ̸̹̃̒
H̶e̶ ̶w̶a̴s̷ ̷d̷i̷s̷s̶o̸l̷v̵i̶n̷g̶.̸
̴S̴o̷m̵e̷t̷h̷i̸n̶g̴ ̶p̶u̷l̷s̸e̶d̴ ̴b̶e̷n̶e̸a̷t̵h̷ ̴h̶i̷m̴.̵ ̶A̶ ̶s̸o̴u̸n̶d̸?̵ ̷A̴ ̵v̷o̶i̶c̸e̴ ̵ ̷ ̵ ̸?
̸̸̴̵̴̷̢̨̛̜͍̣͓̖̦̞̟̭̘̤̻̟̘̜̃͌́̈̓͑͂̉̑̽̈͌̿͘͝͠W̶̴̴̵̷̶̷̸̸̸̸̷̶̵̵̵̷̴̴̴̨̢̨̰̰͙̤͍͔͈͎̭̥̼̳͎̜̯̰̮̙̫̟͎̪̩̲͓̝̣̤͚̟̞͖̼͈̥͉̤̰̦͔͉̠̤̗͔̬̬̥̰̥̯̦̯̗͖̻̑̌̔̑͂̇̀͆͐́͌̿̃̀̌̎̇̾̎̂͊̅͌̈́̓̌̄̆͑̈́̍̀̍̓͋̈́̓͂̄̄́͑͒̄̒̄͊̐̐͑̾̀̒̆͘͘̚̚̚͜͜͝͠͝͝ͅͅą̵̸̷̴̴̴̵̸̶̷̸̵̷̶̡̨̡̛̗͙̻͚̟̪̗͓̟͍̭͚͇̪̲̮̦͔̻̣̤̼͚͓̻̦̤͙̦͚͈͓̏̍̾̃͐͛͐̓̋͐̏͑̈́̑̈́̀̐̄͑͆͐̇̒̇͋̑̽̉̐͆̓̑͂̓̾̅̐͒̏͘̚͜ͅķ̷̷̴̶̷̷̵̸̵̵̶̸̵̝͙͎̠̞̣̘̯͍͍̞̳̱̠̺͈͈̗̟̰̠̜̝̩̞̲͕͍̙̖͊͒̇͑̊͋́̀͐̀́͒͑͐̓̀͑͆̈͂̒̆̇̏̓̇͒̆̈́͛̋̈́̅̃́̒͋͒̕͠͝ͅȩ̶̶̷̴̵̸̵̸̴̴̴̵̸͙̺͇̮̺̩̭̥̤͖̳̦̭͕͔͖̩̦̫͙̬͇̝̹̥̱̭̪̳̙̲̬̘̮̫̮̪̤̦̞̙̖̞̜̾̆̀̿̏́̓͂̉̀̒͆̊̋̐̊̐̓͋̎͋̂̎̕̕̚͘͜͜͝͝ͅ ̴̴̴̷̴̵̷̶̴̸̵̷̷̧̨̧̢̢̛̦̬̟̥̗̱̩̖̦̤̠̪̞̱͖͕̞͉͔̟͉͙͉̘̠̲̳͓̠̱̺̣̘̩͂͌̃̓̇͗̑̃̉͌̂̀̑̐̇͋͒̀̑̉̃̾͋͑̓̒̈́̋́̈̈́̀̌̌̑̋̎̋͑̕̕̕͠ͅü̸̵̴̸̶̷̸̶̴̶̢̨̨̨͙͈̣͙̼̩̖͉̥̤͔̠͙̰͍̪̻͈̘̼̤̻̫̩͊̓́̊̀͑̈́̆̈́̅͒͛͗̊̆̓̆̂̀̂͗̔̚̚͘͜͝͝͝p̷̶̸̶̴̴̶̸̶̨̧̨̢̧̛̹̰͈̼̻̙̘͖̭̮̠̗̫̦̻̤̥̣͔̲̹͕̥̫̎͌̾̂͂̄̒̉̓̀͌̇̏̊̆́́̃̏͌̽͊̋̇͌͝.̴̸̴̴̴̶̸̷̶̶̵̶̶̶̧̡̛̲͓̝̥̩̬͉͓̩͉̬͍͙̼̼͖̺͔͚͓̪͈͙͙̻͈̬̫͖̞̜̱͓̪̝̜̻̤͕̤̲̤̄̓̒͋́̋̈́̄͐̒́͆͂̾̔͋͊̍̊̎̔̔̒̍̈́̈͒͋̀̀̓̽̎͛͌͌̔͌̈́̃̍̀̈́̑͘͘͜͝͝ͅ
̵̸̶̴̴̵̵̶̵̷̶̷̶̴̧̛͖͚͍͙̼̭̼̟̻̤̮̙̟̗̮̻̣̰̝͖̖͎̖͖͎̦̰̬͙̖̟̭̰̰͚̤̻͔̞͇͛̀̾́͂͌̓̏͒̆̆̿̆́̐̇̀̓̑̀͋̓̐͋̒̏̏́͑̓͘̚̕̕͜͜͠͠͠
W̴̷̷̵̴̸̵̢̢̧̖̺̘͉̪̱̬͕̥̣̮͙̜͕̤͇̲̍͑͂͑̐̌̅̎̒̎̎̌̐̚͘̚͝ạ̷̶̵̷̵̷̸̷̶̵̸̵̴̶̶̸̵̢̢̡̡̨̡̢͔̙̦̬̱̘̳͖̘͉̼̤͎̝̬̫̖̝̲̞͚͉̘̼̟̗̰͔͓̬̰͕̱̦̞̭͚̪̪̱̤̮͍̜̻͚̭̠̭͈̞̱͍̺̦̃̑͋̑́̀́̀͋̈͑̃̐̔͛̈̄̂́̔͆̄̉͐͂͊̈̅̉̅̑̇̋͗̑̀͐̓̓̌̍̽̃̀̓̒̊̕̚͘͘̚͜͜͠͠͝͝͠͝͝ͅk̷̶̷̴̶̶̵̸̶̵̵̨̛̮͚̟̰͇̣̺̗̠̯̙̲̭͔͎̖̖̙̼̙̞̙͖̭͚̗̟̬͈͈̝͙͇̝̘͗̂̀̀̇̈́̎̀̃̈͒̔͐̉̀̇̈͊̄͗͂̔̃͌̈̍́̾̓́̐̚̕̕̕͝͝e̸̸̴̷̷̴̸̷̵̶̸̸̶̴̸̷̵̡̧̢̡̛̻̫̘̦͕͍͓̱̯̮̪̩͕̠̭͍͖̬̹̺͙̗͎͍͉̯̤͚͈̫͖͈͓̣̬͕͖̱͔͇̝̣̥̯̰̘̺͇͉̼̪̘̳͒̌̓͂̈́̎̾́̄̏͆̑̐͗͂̊̊̌̐̈͊̾̆̊͊͒̔͗̃͐͂̔̓̉̈́͂͌̓̈́͛̑̑̽̆́̿̀͘͘̕̚̕̕͜͜͝͠͠ͅ ̵̷̵̶̶̷̷̸̵̵̸̧̨̧̧̧̡̢̛̹̪̯̱̘͉̬̬̖͎̙̦͍̪̣̝̳̱̦̖̱̬̳̼͔̞̱̫̳̭̘̍̽̉̈̾̀̉́̒͊̀̓̃͊̈́̎̃̇̉͗̈́̍̐̅̈́̈́̉̚͠͝͝ư̸̸̸̵̶̸̶̷̶̴̶̶̴̸̷̸̸̧̡̢̨̨̡̧̛̛̛͕̮͚̙̦̘̹͔̣̜̹͍̟̞̗͖̣̤̣̞̝̰̮̥̭͓̝̦̯̯̫͈̝̦͔̪̹̺̩̫͇̮̫̗͔̘͗͑̉̾͑̓̿̎͐̐͗͂̾̊̓̀̅̊̀̾̑̃̒̐̂͋͐̀͒̽̋̒͂́̿̀̽̔͋̒́̍́̂̍̕̕͘̕͘̕͜͝͝͝͝͝͝͝͝p̷̷̴̶̸̷̴̸̵̴̶̷̵̶̵̶̴̸̡̡̨̧̢̧̡̧̛̲̟̠̘̟̞͓̱̮̗̗̯̞̥̥̘̠͈͍͙̼̻̗͙̭̥͕̰̣̮̜͍̘̱̭̦̝͇̠̩̠̤̯̮̳̘͓̥̬̊̅̈́͑͗̀̆̑̒̆̅͛̾̓̐͋̊͊̇̒̅́̇̆̎̓̿͋͌̐̈̈́̈́̄͒̔́̂̍̾̐̍̊̉͌͂̊̌̈͒̈́̊̽̏́͊̐̚͘̕̕̕͜͜͠͝͠͝ͅͅ.̴̴̸̴̸̴̴̶̵̷̸̧̨̨̧̧̰̪̳̱̟̲͍̰̭̥̩͎̹̰̩̗̮̦̞̞̥̦͇̦͚͍̦̮͎͒̐̿̈́͌͌̏͂͒̓̃̂̆̀̍̐̇̔́͌̉͗́̃̕̕͜͝͝ͅͅ ̴̴̴̶̸̵̷̵̷̴̶̷̸̡̛̛̞̹̯͙̹̼͚̜̦͈̘̯͉̝̝͉͕͔̦̦̪͍̮̮̩͓͈̺̜̳̯͓͓͍̯̻̪̞͑̽̏̌̈́̋͐̃̇̀͛͛̓́̽́̌̏̀̍̑͑͆͂̓̌̐́̂̽́̏͘͘͠͠
The sharp slam of consciousness.
Ryuya startled back into himself.
His chest rose sharply with a breath he’d been holding.
The hum in his head was fading now, but the disorientation it left behind remained.
His gaze refocused, slowly piecing the world back together.
He looked left, trying to make sure the rooftop was still there.
It was. He exhaled.
His head turned to the right, Emi was sitting next to him.
Her face frozen in a weird expression, like it was sitting between concern and confusion.
“I was about to get someone, you completely spaced out.”
He exhaled slowly, taking in reality once again.
“Did I pass out ?” He asked, his own concern carrying through the words.
“I don’t know but you don’t look so good,” She responded.
Before either of them could say anything else, the sharp clang of the bell cut through the rooftop fog.
Emi glanced toward the door.
The break was over.
She stood up, brushing dust off her skirt before she looked back at him one more time.
“You should go to the infirmary.” She said neutrally.
“I will, in a second.”
“I’ll let the teacher know,” She said in a way that felt final.
She finally turned toward the door.
Her footsteps echoed louder than it should’ve on her way out.
The door opened, the muffled hum of the school seeping through, a reminder of what lay ahead.
The metal clicked softly,
she was gone now,
and the whole rooftop felt like it was exhaling.
Ryuya’s gaze drifted upward, unfocused, as the weight in his chest coiled tighter.
He closed his eyes, exhaling a slow breath as the fog wrapped around him.
He stayed there for a minute before he opened his eyes again,
something sharper came, a dark feeling coiling at his insides.
This is bad..
His chest tightened.
What the fuck happened..
Now that he was alone, all his thoughts seemed to storm at once, like a valve breaking under pressure.
This is not good.. fuck, what the fuck was that ?!
It was all slipping away—his focus, his grasp, his sense of control.
He looked around him once again, making sure that the world outside of his vision didn’t disappear,
his heart was beating faster.
Shit.. Did I pass out ?
He immediately pressed on to his wrist to check on his pulse,
then his neck, his heart was beating fast.
He started to rub his eyes vigorously.
This is bad.. It’s the meds.. It has to be the meds.. Are they killing me ?
He gathered all of his will in one deep breath, the world was still there.
1.2.3.4.5.6.7.8.
He counted as he exhaled. The pressure inside him seemed to loosen slightly.
I’m still here…
He kept his breathing for a while, his body relaxed and so did his mind yet something else loomed at the edge of his awareness, he shifted his position and stretched his legs out, trying to relax his whole body before the wave crashed onto his psyche..
What am I even doing..
A deep sense of futility swallowed him. Ryuya couldn't fight the honesty of the thought, this truth was one forged over time, one that always lingered, unacknowledged in the depth of his mind.
In that moment it cut away any false hopes he had, cleaving through all ideas that he could lead a life anywhere close to normality.
It’s pointless..
The rooftop seemed to fold in on itself. Ryuya leaned forward slightly, resting his elbows on his knees as his head hung low.
Nothing’s working.
What did I expect seriously..
…
Despair took him, the effort to hold on felt meaningless. What was the point of going back, of pretending, of anything when even being here felt impossible.
I’m such an idiot…
He stayed like that for a long time, unmoving.
His head turned to the side. The edge of the rooftop pulled his gaze in, holding it for a moment too long.
His eyes traced the railing, down to up until a thought surfaced.
It’s not that high..
Noticing the thought, he shook his head, squeezing his eyes shut.
What am I thinking..
He took another deep breath as he leaned back against the railing, gathering what was left of his resolve to hold on. He stared at the grey through his eyelids until the smallest drops of rain hit his face from above.
He slowly opened his eyes to notice the dark clouds above, the wetness bringing him back to his immediate reality. For now, the rooftop was his, and the weight of everything else could wait, that’s what he wanted to think.
His fingers twitched with some life once again, brushing against his bag absently, that’s when it finally hit him,
the sketchbook was gone.
The fog curled tighter around the rooftop, heavy and indifferent.
“What a joke..”
The world c̸̬̪̈́̓ọ̵͗͘l̵͕̱̭̘̚l̶͈͍̀͒͆͜͠a̴̧͙̕̚p̵̪͇̻͕̈́͘̚s̶̨̹̊̉̓̅e̵̪̍̄͋d̴͔͊͠.̸̡̛̳͈ͅ
R̷̨̟͈̩̅̓͝ÿ̸̘͈́̇͘͠u̶̺͚̐y̸͙̻̻̿̀͜a̶͙̻͓̼͋̇ ̶̠̪̓̅w̶̙̳͋̂̔ä̷̝́s̴̱͎̊ ̷̨͙̃̈́̐͜f̸͔͝a̸̦͙̿̿̃̚l̸̗̘̮͙̾l̸̨̺̣̮͗͊́͝ỉ̸̘̋n̵̨̋̾ģ̷̜̪̔͂͠.̴̦͐̀
The rooftop had d̵i̷s̵a̵p̴p̶e̸a̵r̴e̸d̸.̶ ̴
No edge, no railing, no school.
Only the sky, stretching endlessly in every direction,
gray and infinite.
Below, something dark loomed, vast and silent.
Ẅ̷̲a̴̟͍̾̓́t̸̢̡̻̊é̷̡̼̜r̶̢̪͍̍̿̕.̴̱̏̅
S̸t̸i̸l̸l̶ ̷a̸n̴d̷ ̶u̶n̷m̶o̶v̵i̵n̷g̷.̸
̵I̷t̷ ̸r̵u̶s̶h̴e̷d̵ ̵t̷o̸w̸a̴r̵d̴ ̸h̸i̶m̸—̵
n̴o̶,̶
̴h̸e̴ ̶w̸a̵s̷ ̸b̴e̴i̵n̶g̸ ̵p̵u̴l̴l̷e̸d̸ ̷t̶o̸w̶a̶r̴d̶ ̷i̴t̴.̷
His limbs wouldn't move, wouldn't flail.
His body didn't belong to him anymore.
He hit the surface.
No splash. No impact. Just silence.
The water wrapped around him, swallowing him whole,
but it wasn’t water.
It had no weight, no resistance—only a quiet, crushing presence,
like sinking into nothingness.
His breath didn’t exist.
His body wasn’t ř̸̢̛͝͝ͅe̴̟̅̅̏̚ą̶̨̝̊͑̕͝l̷̲̠̼͖̽͋͜.̴̲̎̓̐ ̸̹̃̒
H̶e̶ ̶w̶a̴s̷ ̷d̷i̷s̷s̶o̸l̷v̵i̶n̷g̶.̸
̴S̴o̷m̵e̷t̷h̷i̸n̶g̴ ̶p̶u̷l̷s̸e̶d̴ ̴b̶e̷n̶e̸a̷t̵h̷ ̴h̶i̷m̴.̵ ̶A̶ ̶s̸o̴u̸n̶d̸?̵ ̷A̴ ̵v̷o̶i̶c̸e̴ ̵ ̷ ̵ ̸?
̸̸̴̵̴̷̢̨̛̜͍̣͓̖̦̞̟̭̘̤̻̟̘̜̃͌́̈̓͑͂̉̑̽̈͌̿͘͝͠W̶̴̴̵̷̶̷̸̸̸̸̷̶̵̵̵̷̴̴̴̨̢̨̰̰͙̤͍͔͈͎̭̥̼̳͎̜̯̰̮̙̫̟͎̪̩̲͓̝̣̤͚̟̞͖̼͈̥͉̤̰̦͔͉̠̤̗͔̬̬̥̰̥̯̦̯̗͖̻̑̌̔̑͂̇̀͆͐́͌̿̃̀̌̎̇̾̎̂͊̅͌̈́̓̌̄̆͑̈́̍̀̍̓͋̈́̓͂̄̄́͑͒̄̒̄͊̐̐͑̾̀̒̆͘͘̚̚̚͜͜͝͠͝͝ͅͅą̵̸̷̴̴̴̵̸̶̷̸̵̷̶̡̨̡̛̗͙̻͚̟̪̗͓̟͍̭͚͇̪̲̮̦͔̻̣̤̼͚͓̻̦̤͙̦͚͈͓̏̍̾̃͐͛͐̓̋͐̏͑̈́̑̈́̀̐̄͑͆͐̇̒̇͋̑̽̉̐͆̓̑͂̓̾̅̐͒̏͘̚͜ͅķ̷̷̴̶̷̷̵̸̵̵̶̸̵̝͙͎̠̞̣̘̯͍͍̞̳̱̠̺͈͈̗̟̰̠̜̝̩̞̲͕͍̙̖͊͒̇͑̊͋́̀͐̀́͒͑͐̓̀͑͆̈͂̒̆̇̏̓̇͒̆̈́͛̋̈́̅̃́̒͋͒̕͠͝ͅȩ̶̶̷̴̵̸̵̸̴̴̴̵̸͙̺͇̮̺̩̭̥̤͖̳̦̭͕͔͖̩̦̫͙̬͇̝̹̥̱̭̪̳̙̲̬̘̮̫̮̪̤̦̞̙̖̞̜̾̆̀̿̏́̓͂̉̀̒͆̊̋̐̊̐̓͋̎͋̂̎̕̕̚͘͜͜͝͝ͅ ̴̴̴̷̴̵̷̶̴̸̵̷̷̧̨̧̢̢̛̦̬̟̥̗̱̩̖̦̤̠̪̞̱͖͕̞͉͔̟͉͙͉̘̠̲̳͓̠̱̺̣̘̩͂͌̃̓̇͗̑̃̉͌̂̀̑̐̇͋͒̀̑̉̃̾͋͑̓̒̈́̋́̈̈́̀̌̌̑̋̎̋͑̕̕̕͠ͅü̸̵̴̸̶̷̸̶̴̶̢̨̨̨͙͈̣͙̼̩̖͉̥̤͔̠͙̰͍̪̻͈̘̼̤̻̫̩͊̓́̊̀͑̈́̆̈́̅͒͛͗̊̆̓̆̂̀̂͗̔̚̚͘͜͝͝͝p̷̶̸̶̴̴̶̸̶̨̧̨̢̧̛̹̰͈̼̻̙̘͖̭̮̠̗̫̦̻̤̥̣͔̲̹͕̥̫̎͌̾̂͂̄̒̉̓̀͌̇̏̊̆́́̃̏͌̽͊̋̇͌͝.̴̸̴̴̴̶̸̷̶̶̵̶̶̶̧̡̛̲͓̝̥̩̬͉͓̩͉̬͍͙̼̼͖̺͔͚͓̪͈͙͙̻͈̬̫͖̞̜̱͓̪̝̜̻̤͕̤̲̤̄̓̒͋́̋̈́̄͐̒́͆͂̾̔͋͊̍̊̎̔̔̒̍̈́̈͒͋̀̀̓̽̎͛͌͌̔͌̈́̃̍̀̈́̑͘͘͜͝͝ͅ
̵̸̶̴̴̵̵̶̵̷̶̷̶̴̧̛͖͚͍͙̼̭̼̟̻̤̮̙̟̗̮̻̣̰̝͖̖͎̖͖͎̦̰̬͙̖̟̭̰̰͚̤̻͔̞͇͛̀̾́͂͌̓̏͒̆̆̿̆́̐̇̀̓̑̀͋̓̐͋̒̏̏́͑̓͘̚̕̕͜͜͠͠͠
W̴̷̷̵̴̸̵̢̢̧̖̺̘͉̪̱̬͕̥̣̮͙̜͕̤͇̲̍͑͂͑̐̌̅̎̒̎̎̌̐̚͘̚͝ạ̷̶̵̷̵̷̸̷̶̵̸̵̴̶̶̸̵̢̢̡̡̨̡̢͔̙̦̬̱̘̳͖̘͉̼̤͎̝̬̫̖̝̲̞͚͉̘̼̟̗̰͔͓̬̰͕̱̦̞̭͚̪̪̱̤̮͍̜̻͚̭̠̭͈̞̱͍̺̦̃̑͋̑́̀́̀͋̈͑̃̐̔͛̈̄̂́̔͆̄̉͐͂͊̈̅̉̅̑̇̋͗̑̀͐̓̓̌̍̽̃̀̓̒̊̕̚͘͘̚͜͜͠͠͝͝͠͝͝ͅk̷̶̷̴̶̶̵̸̶̵̵̨̛̮͚̟̰͇̣̺̗̠̯̙̲̭͔͎̖̖̙̼̙̞̙͖̭͚̗̟̬͈͈̝͙͇̝̘͗̂̀̀̇̈́̎̀̃̈͒̔͐̉̀̇̈͊̄͗͂̔̃͌̈̍́̾̓́̐̚̕̕̕͝͝e̸̸̴̷̷̴̸̷̵̶̸̸̶̴̸̷̵̡̧̢̡̛̻̫̘̦͕͍͓̱̯̮̪̩͕̠̭͍͖̬̹̺͙̗͎͍͉̯̤͚͈̫͖͈͓̣̬͕͖̱͔͇̝̣̥̯̰̘̺͇͉̼̪̘̳͒̌̓͂̈́̎̾́̄̏͆̑̐͗͂̊̊̌̐̈͊̾̆̊͊͒̔͗̃͐͂̔̓̉̈́͂͌̓̈́͛̑̑̽̆́̿̀͘͘̕̚̕̕͜͜͝͠͠ͅ ̵̷̵̶̶̷̷̸̵̵̸̧̨̧̧̧̡̢̛̹̪̯̱̘͉̬̬̖͎̙̦͍̪̣̝̳̱̦̖̱̬̳̼͔̞̱̫̳̭̘̍̽̉̈̾̀̉́̒͊̀̓̃͊̈́̎̃̇̉͗̈́̍̐̅̈́̈́̉̚͠͝͝ư̸̸̸̵̶̸̶̷̶̴̶̶̴̸̷̸̸̧̡̢̨̨̡̧̛̛̛͕̮͚̙̦̘̹͔̣̜̹͍̟̞̗͖̣̤̣̞̝̰̮̥̭͓̝̦̯̯̫͈̝̦͔̪̹̺̩̫͇̮̫̗͔̘͗͑̉̾͑̓̿̎͐̐͗͂̾̊̓̀̅̊̀̾̑̃̒̐̂͋͐̀͒̽̋̒͂́̿̀̽̔͋̒́̍́̂̍̕̕͘̕͘̕͜͝͝͝͝͝͝͝͝p̷̷̴̶̸̷̴̸̵̴̶̷̵̶̵̶̴̸̡̡̨̧̢̧̡̧̛̲̟̠̘̟̞͓̱̮̗̗̯̞̥̥̘̠͈͍͙̼̻̗͙̭̥͕̰̣̮̜͍̘̱̭̦̝͇̠̩̠̤̯̮̳̘͓̥̬̊̅̈́͑͗̀̆̑̒̆̅͛̾̓̐͋̊͊̇̒̅́̇̆̎̓̿͋͌̐̈̈́̈́̄͒̔́̂̍̾̐̍̊̉͌͂̊̌̈͒̈́̊̽̏́͊̐̚͘̕̕̕͜͜͠͝͠͝ͅͅ.̴̴̸̴̸̴̴̶̵̷̸̧̨̨̧̧̰̪̳̱̟̲͍̰̭̥̩͎̹̰̩̗̮̦̞̞̥̦͇̦͚͍̦̮͎͒̐̿̈́͌͌̏͂͒̓̃̂̆̀̍̐̇̔́͌̉͗́̃̕̕͜͝͝ͅͅ ̴̴̴̶̸̵̷̵̷̴̶̷̸̡̛̛̞̹̯͙̹̼͚̜̦͈̘̯͉̝̝͉͕͔̦̦̪͍̮̮̩͓͈̺̜̳̯͓͓͍̯̻̪̞͑̽̏̌̈́̋͐̃̇̀͛͛̓́̽́̌̏̀̍̑͑͆͂̓̌̐́̂̽́̏͘͘͠͠
The sharp slam of consciousness.
Ryuya startled back into himself.
His chest rose sharply with a breath he’d been holding.
The hum in his head was fading now, but the disorientation it left behind remained.
His gaze refocused, slowly piecing the world back together.
He looked left, trying to make sure the rooftop was still there.
It was. He exhaled.
His head turned to the right, Emi was sitting next to him.
Her face frozen in a weird expression, like it was sitting between concern and confusion.
“I was about to get someone, you completely spaced out.”
He exhaled slowly, taking in reality once again.
“Did I pass out ?” He asked, his own concern carrying through the words.
“I don’t know but you don’t look so good,” She responded.
Before either of them could say anything else, the sharp clang of the bell cut through the rooftop fog.
Emi glanced toward the door.
The break was over.
She stood up, brushing dust off her skirt before she looked back at him one more time.
“You should go to the infirmary.” She said neutrally.
“I will, in a second.”
“I’ll let the teacher know,” She said in a way that felt final.
She finally turned toward the door.
Her footsteps echoed louder than it should’ve on her way out.
The door opened, the muffled hum of the school seeping through, a reminder of what lay ahead.
The metal clicked softly,
she was gone now,
and the whole rooftop felt like it was exhaling.
Ryuya’s gaze drifted upward, unfocused, as the weight in his chest coiled tighter.
He closed his eyes, exhaling a slow breath as the fog wrapped around him.
He stayed there for a minute before he opened his eyes again,
something sharper came, a dark feeling coiling at his insides.
This is bad..
His chest tightened.
What the fuck happened..
Now that he was alone, all his thoughts seemed to storm at once, like a valve breaking under pressure.
This is not good.. fuck, what the fuck was that ?!
It was all slipping away—his focus, his grasp, his sense of control.
He looked around him once again, making sure that the world outside of his vision didn’t disappear,
his heart was beating faster.
Shit.. Did I pass out ?
He immediately pressed on to his wrist to check on his pulse,
then his neck, his heart was beating fast.
He started to rub his eyes vigorously.
This is bad.. It’s the meds.. It has to be the meds.. Are they killing me ?
He gathered all of his will in one deep breath, the world was still there.
1.2.3.4.5.6.7.8.
He counted as he exhaled. The pressure inside him seemed to loosen slightly.
I’m still here…
He kept his breathing for a while, his body relaxed and so did his mind yet something else loomed at the edge of his awareness, he shifted his position and stretched his legs out, trying to relax his whole body before the wave crashed onto his psyche..
What am I even doing..
A deep sense of futility swallowed him. Ryuya couldn't fight the honesty of the thought, this truth was one forged over time, one that always lingered, unacknowledged in the depth of his mind.
In that moment it cut away any false hopes he had, cleaving through all ideas that he could lead a life anywhere close to normality.
It’s pointless..
The rooftop seemed to fold in on itself. Ryuya leaned forward slightly, resting his elbows on his knees as his head hung low.
Nothing’s working.
What did I expect seriously..
…
Despair took him, the effort to hold on felt meaningless. What was the point of going back, of pretending, of anything when even being here felt impossible.
I’m such an idiot…
He stayed like that for a long time, unmoving.
His head turned to the side. The edge of the rooftop pulled his gaze in, holding it for a moment too long.
His eyes traced the railing, down to up until a thought surfaced.
It’s not that high..
Noticing the thought, he shook his head, squeezing his eyes shut.
What am I thinking..
He took another deep breath as he leaned back against the railing, gathering what was left of his resolve to hold on. He stared at the grey through his eyelids until the smallest drops of rain hit his face from above.
He slowly opened his eyes to notice the dark clouds above, the wetness bringing him back to his immediate reality. For now, the rooftop was his, and the weight of everything else could wait, that’s what he wanted to think.
His fingers twitched with some life once again, brushing against his bag absently, that’s when it finally hit him,
the sketchbook was gone.
The fog curled tighter around the rooftop, heavy and indifferent.
“What a joke..”
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