December. A period that Keisuke despised. As if the fact that temperatures refused to rise above the acceptable level wasn't enough, the hours that were considered daytime seemed determined to follow the same pattern. He'd wake up, it was dark. He'd go home after school, it was dark. These repeated scenarios didn't make him want to get out of bed, which didn't help his tendency to deprive teachers of his presence at the first classes of the day.

That morning was no exception. Keisuke had decided to skip the first few hours of class, having no desire to face the double math period of his timetable. Surprisingly, he had no trouble with this subject and therefore considered it a waste of time. He had better things to do than watch the snow fall for two hours while calculating the number of minutes until the end of this monotonous, boring day.

Keisuke also took advantage of the fact that the janitor would pretend not to see him show up so late, as he wasn't particularly keen on lingering around the school at this depressing time of the year to keep an eye on him in detention. So the student took a little more advantage than usual to give himself a few hours off.

—Oya, you look like shit today.

Akaashi didn't even bother to look for the source of the voice that had just called out to him. Only Igarashi would dare approach him like that when he "looked like shit".

—On the other hand, I don't know if it's because you look like you've been smoking weed all night, or if it's because you had the pleasure of talking to Midori three minutes ago.

With a slow gesture, Keisuke closed his locker and took the time to put his keys away before finally deigning to lock his tired gaze into that of his best friend.

—Both, muttered the dark-haired boy in a low voice.

—Your eyes are as bloodshot as if you'd pulled an all-nighter, Igarashi continued, leaning against the lockers. You'd make a good example for a drug prevention ad.

Keisuke didn't need to be reminded of the hellish night he'd just had. Nor, from experience, did he need to look in the mirror to know that his eyes were probably marked by more prominent dark circles than usual, and that his pallid complexion was closer to that of a corpse than a human being. So yeah, Igarashi had said it in jest, but with the look on his face, he would indeed make a good subject for a drug prevention campaign.

—I couldn't sleep, so I smoked a bit of weed last night, he corrected, swinging his bag over his shoulder. That's it.

But in the end, even if he hadn't smoked himself to sleep, the result would have been the same. You couldn't make up burn-out with concealer anyway.

—Rah, again? It's becoming a habit again. Well, as long as it's not with cocaine...

Keisuke didn't reply. The two students quietly took the path leading to their next classroom.

—What did Midori want from you this time? Inquired Igarashi in a slightly mocking tone.

—Molly, replied the young man simply.

His reply drew a significant raise of the eyebrows from his interlocutor.

—Wait, you have Ecstasy on you right now? He sighed, almost alarmed, as he glanced around them. If you get caught with it, your money won't be able to save you from being expelled.

—Not anymore, Keisuke said, rolling his eyes. I only took the amount Midori asked me to bring her. I'm exhausted, but not stupid.

—You know she uses that as an excuse to approach you, don't you?

Of course, he knew. After all, he was the first person involved in this story.

—What if she ends up addicted to the Ecsta' you're selling her? Igarashi continued, a hint of disapproval in his voice. What are you going to do?

—I'm not forcing her, and she's old enough to look after herself.

After all, he was only doing her a favor. Of course, Midori had tried Ecstasy with him, but she'd done it without any real prompting. One evening, the young woman had been very curious about the star-shaped tablets he'd slipped onto his tongue. She wanted to try them. He let her.

—She'll be even clingier, predicted Igarashi, sighing dramatically. I doubt Midori knows another trusted dealer around here. Then...

—None of my business, if you really wanna know.

His best friend didn't take offense at his lack of empathy, being used to Keisuke responding in this way when their topic of conversation displeased him. Deep down, he knew the brunet wouldn't wish such a dependency on anyone, so he didn't bother, and hadn't for a long time, to argue the point.

At the turn of a corridor, the two students came face to face with the younger Igarashi. The latter's eyes lit up at the sight of them, and after slipping in a few words of apology to his group of friends, he joined them in a few strides.

—Hey Naoki, wait! Got two seconds?

—Yes, but make it quick, retorted the elder. What's up, Ejiro?

The younger Igarashi glanced in Keisuke's direction, only now noticing his presence. But feeling intimidated by the sharp-eyed student, Ejiro quickly lowered his head to open his bag. He pulled out a beige portfolio and handed it to his brother, always careful to avoid eye contact with the latter's best friend.

-What's this? Naoki asked, flipping quickly through the folder.

—It's my class notes for this week, explained Ejiro, hastily closing his bag.

—Mom would be proud of you, he teased, smiling. But... what do I do with it?

Ejiro rolled his eyes at his older brother's impatience, but didn't bother to voice his thoughts aloud.

—Hoshino was missing all week, announced the younger Igarashi under his interlocutor's watchful eye. Amano and I thought she could use a hand with some of the classes. But as we don't know her exact address, I offered to pass on our notes to Shirai... but I missed him earlier.

During his brother's monologue, Igarashi gave Keisuke a discreet sidelong glance. His friend had been standing back from the beginning of their exchange, but he still seemed to be following the conversation with a distant ear. This amused him to no end. Obviously, when it's about Hoshino, he listens.

—So you want me to give your notes to Shirai so he can pass them on to Hoshino? Naoki resumed.

—Yes, please. You'll see him at training, right? But if it bothers you that much, I can do it myself...

As he spoke, Ejiro reached out for the portfolio, but his brother recoiled and stopped him.

—Don't worry, I'm fine with it, cut in the elder Igarashi quickly, offering his younger son a wink.

—Are you sure?

—No problem, confirmed Naoki. See you later.

—Thanks, breathed Ejiro gratefully, before striding away. See you later!

Igarashi waited until his young brother was out of sight before turning to the dark-haired man, a proud smile on his face. Keisuke didn't even have time to understand before he found himself with the portfolio pressed against his chest.

—Don't thank me, laughed Igarashi, shoving his hands into his pockets.

Keisuke frowned, in a bad mood.

—Hey, that's not my problem, he grumbled, glaring murderously at his best friend. I'm not going to talk to Shirai. You're on your own!

Igarashi burst out laughing.  Keisuke frowned considerably.

—No, idiot. You're going to give these notes to Hoshino yourself. You haven't seen her for days and I can tell you're in an awful mood.

With some delay, light finally dawned on the student. He understood his classmate's reasoning, and although a feeling of gratitude came over him, Keisuke didn't express it aloud. Instead, he simply refuted his friend's last sentence.

—I'm not in a bad mood because she's not here.

—Roh, would it kill you to admit you're worried about her? Igarashi joked innocently. Actually, no, I shall correct myself. You don't have to admit it for it to show on your face. You're getting really sentimental, dude.

Keisuke rolled his eyes and sighed, despairing at his friend's words. The latter never missed an opportunity to royally annoy him. However, the dark-haired man didn't bother to argue the point, exhausted just by the idea. He simply turned on his heels and headed off in the opposite direction.

—Hey, where are you going? The class is over there, Igarashi challenged him, before suddenly grasping his intentions. When I said you could give her the notes yourself, I didn't mean 'right now'.

—Well, I do mean it, he replied, glancing over his shoulder.

Perfect timing. Keisuke hadn't the slightest desire to be here, and he'd just been handed, on a silver platter, the perfect excuse to get out of there.

—And what do I tell the teacher? And the coach?

—Give them my sincerest greetings, Keisuke ironized, making a military salute in farewell. Bye.

—But...

The young man didn't listen to Igarashi's reply and left the school grounds without the slightest remorse.