Chapter Text
Voices echoed distantly from the corridor outside her room, from the green area below her dorm window, even from the rooms adjacent to her own. Every now and then, Shiori would pick up some suspiciously inintelligible whispers or some malicious laughter that'd drive her up the wall. Surely, she couldn't fall much lower than being the laughing stock of the entire school.
Shiori lay face down in bed, a pillow wrapped around her nape in an effort to isolate herself from the outside noise. Time seemed to have completely sank into the stifling dense air of her room, slowly dropping down her walls like some kind of disgusting syrup. She felt her heart racing; it was painful, the tension in her chest building up unbearably. She found herself wishing for things to be different for what would be the umpteenth time since she had come back to Ohtori.
Ruka had been the only guy worth something that had ever looked at her direction. While it was true she hadn't been at the locker room for him that afternoon… if she could remain by his side, then things would have been fine. She'd no longer be a nobody; people would stop and look at her with envy. She'd finally be able to beat Juri.
Yet, he had blamed their loss at the arena all on her. What was it that she had failed to do? Shiori knew painfully well there was nothing remarkable about her, that she didn't have much to offer, that there were plenty of fish in the sea Ruka could choose from. But she had tried her best to make it work, she truly had. Her mind flashed back to when she had crossed the campus running frantically as if she was some kind of stupid, bashful and naive middle-school girl. To the ride where he had promised her the world, and she had completely surrendered herself to him. The memories made her want to gag.
The bed sheet crumpled in between her fingers as her fists balled. She propped herself heavily, drained from all the turmoil, from having spent an entire day holed up in her room, from having skipped dinner at the cafeteria to save herself the disgrace of being seen. How could she show her face after their little scene at the gardens the day before?
She wasn't about to let things just end that way, so she dragged herself to her desk, her hand mechanically pressing down the buttons as she had done over and over the past few hours. The beeping gave way to his gratingly nasal voice in the recorded voicemail.
"I know you are there," she drawled in a low bitter tone. "You could at least hear me out".
A pause. Still nothing. The same message sent countless times for the last few hours. Reality twisting around itself, relentlessly repeating itself. It always ended this way.
Penumbra stood still in her room, with only a narrow burning streak of light making it through the small aperture from her window curtains. Unable to withstand the stuffiness of her room anymore, Shiori turned on her small stand fan. The blades started turning until they gradually blended with each other. The low hum the fan produced would periodically scratch over, getting stuck with some kind of particle inside the mechanism. An endless cycle of wrongness. Shiori kicked the stand down, and the fan continued its rotations on the ground.
Anger kept bubbling up from the pit of her stomach, a flame burning up along her chest until it reached the back of her mouth. She crossed her arms over her chest, her right hand rubbing her left arm. Nails slowly started to dig at her skin with the motion, while her gaze was still transfixed with the fan blades. The faint knocking at her door finally broke the monotony. She considered ignoring it, until a hesitant, familiar voice called for her name. Juri. Was she losing her mind? What could she possibly gain showing up here, now? She stomped her way to her door.
“So, it’s you,” Shiori spat, hiding behind her ajar door, security chain still in place. “What do you want?!” her volume increased alongside the venom in her voice “Did you come to laugh at me?!” Her grip on the knob tightened, her fingers whitening.
“Shiori…” Juri pleaded weakly.
“More and more you disgust me!” The rawness of her voice teared her throat. “Did you think I’d go crying back to you?! Well, I’ve got news for you—I won’t do what you want!” With that, she slammed the door shut again.
Nothing was more humiliating than, once again, being the pathetic little girl that kind, beautiful, perfect Juri had to protect. Fate was truly unfair, blessing a selected special few with all: grace, elegance, talent; leaving ordinary girls like herself with nothing. A small sense of satisfaction echoed through the emptiness of her chest. It felt good to have put Juri in her place. But that wasn’t quite right.
She squeezed the collar of her shirt, the air suddenly too heavy to enter her nostrils. Her eyes burned by the tears being held back, and she leaned her weight against the door. Things used to be different. Back when they were still friends, when they were in elementary school and even through middle school, Juri had always protected her. She used to find it comforting. Juri was always so strong and reliable; nothing seemed capable of reaching and hurting her, so unlike Shiori. She really envied her.
Shiori’s whole world always seemed to revolve around Juri. She was always the one needing help with cramming, needing help to fend for herself, the insecure little girl who would cry at the slightest provocation. Juri didn’t really need her, always above such trivial concerns. What difference would it make if it was herself or anyone else under Juri’s shadow?
But in the end, she had won. She was the one who ruled Juri’s heart. A small, breathless, satisfied laugh left her lips. Ah, poor pitiful Juri, obsessed with her. No longer was she the only one desperate for a gaze to be returned or a gesture to be noticed. She almost had gotten ahead too, if things with Ruka hadn’t soured up so suddenly...
But that wasn’t quite right.
The sunset light was starting to peek through her curtains, the darkness of her room sharpening.The stupid fan was still tripping over its gears. The phone still quiet. The outside buzz started to grow as more and more students made their way to their dorms. Agitated, she made her way to her desk, rummaging in her drawers for her walkman. That’s when she noticed her walls stained red and her sharp, lonely shadow projected against the wall. Even just her silhouette looked quite terrible, with her tangled hair looking like a bird nest. Her slouched figure was disgusting; she couldn’t even imagine how appalling the whole deal must have looked to Juri’s eyes…. It always came back to her. In a rage fit, she snatched her pillow and threw it against her shadow.
Why couldn’t she be different?
Why was she always so disgusting?
Why did everything she did left her feeling even more pathetic and empty than before?
Why was she always nabbing at the smallest, pettiest chance to get back at Juri?
Why did she still want Juri to look at her at all times?
It was always the same.
How many times did she have to go through the same broken cycle?
She collapsed to her knees and hands, sobbing uncontrollably. Couldn’t she do any better? She was exhausted. She truly was. She curled up and hugged her knees. What could she even do now, when she couldn’t even leave her room? Needles clawed at her limbs at the thought of being seen in such a deplorable state, after she had made a fool of herself in front of everyone. In spite of this, she knew she couldn’t be locked up forever. Inanition was only a dramatic swift death in romantic books. In reality, it’d be prolonged agony. It also sounded stupid to die for Ruka.
So, it was settled. She’d need to go out eventually. Better sooner than later. It’d do her some good to have a shower. And wear clean clothes. And brush her hair. The fact she was pathetic didn’t mean she had to forego all semblance of hygiene. She also needed food. She should ready herself for breakfast, no real need to keep going hungry. Yes, tomorrow would be a new day.