"ASSEMBLY SUPERVISOR. ASSEMBLY FUCKING SUPERVISOR. THAT'S A TITLE THAT COMES WITH RESPONSIBILITY AGURI, AND I'M STARTING TO QUESTION YOUR QUALIFICATIONS."

I tiptoe down the stairs and hold my breath as I walk past my parents' bedroom to the foyer.

"YOU KNOW DAMN WELL THAT I WOULD RUN THE ENTIRE FACTORY BY MYSELF IF I COULD. BUT I'M ONE MAN. ONE MAN."

My eyes swiftly scan the rack by the door for my socks, and when I don't see them, I slip my bare feet into my shoes and bend over, fumbling with the laces.

"HOW CAN YOU BE SO FUCKING USELESS—"

I give up and stuff the laces in through the sides before shooting to my feet, praying that the door isn't locked and that I don't have to go back to their room to get the key. I try the knob, my heart threatening to tear out of my chest, and thank fuck, the door gives.

"USELESS MOTHER, USELESS FUCKING S—"

The door clicks shut behind me, cutting off the rest of my father's sentence. Doesn't matter though. I know what he was going to say. I've heard it all before. And he's not wrong.

I stand still for a moment, allowing the wind to howl in my ears and wash away his voice, before I take off. It's liberating—running. I can scream, and my voice is lost to the wind. I don't stay in one place for longer than a second, so I can't piss anyone off. No one has to see me, hear me, or put up with me. I carry myself. And it's fun.

It feels so fucking good.

I first discovered I liked it back when I used to rush over to Senpai's house every morning so we could walk to school together, high on the excitement and anticipation of getting to see her. It doesn't matter that I don't have a clear destination now. It actually works out better. I can simply run, and since there's no one waiting for me at the finish line, I don't have to worry about being too slow, running past them, or losing my way and letting them down.

Ever since I turned running into a habit, I haven't added a single cloud to the storm brewing on that wall. So I run laps around my neighbourhood, then move on to the next neighbourhood, then the next, until I've killed two hours and can't put off going to school anymore.

If I'm late, the teacher will call my parents. The ring will disturb them, and the conversation will waste their time. Mama and Papa are busy. Those were the words I grew up hearing. Don't disturb Mama and Papa.

So I suck it up and go to school.

*✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:

"Morning," I tell the nerd as I collapse into my seat by his side.

I expect him to look startled, the way he used to when I first started to greet him at school, but when he looks up, the set of his face is undisturbed. "Ren. Good morning," he says politely, and that's it. He promptly returns his attention to the books splayed out before him, turning his face away from me.

Something like disappointment stirs in my stomach. The hell, it's not like his precious books will sprout legs and take off if he keeps his eyes off them for more than two seconds.

I grunt and scan the classroom once before quickly growing restless. Absently drumming my fingers to the desk, I face him, and giving voice to the random thought that just crept into my brain, I ask, "So what's your favourite day of the week?"

I achieve the desired reaction this time. He's watching me, his face screwed up in confusion. A swell of gratification rises inside me, and I swallow it down, satisfied. A new face. "Your favourite day of the week," I repeat. "Mine's Monday." 

"Ah...I don't think I have a favourite day of the week," he answers unsurely.

I cross my arms and sink into my chair. "That's weird."

"Right. Um, if you don't mind...I'm going to go back to studying now."

I huff and turn my face away. Of course he doesn't have a favourite day of the week. If all he does is bury his face in words during every waking hour, it's no wonder all the days feel the same to him.

Chewing on the insides of my cheek, I let my eyes roam his face. Something's different. Somehow, his face looks smaller. Worn. His normally lazer-focused eyes are slightly glazed over, and he's blinking a lot. He's obviously fucking tired, but he just doesn't stop. Why is this so important to you?

As I watch, his facial muscles shift abruptly, his eyes crinkling and his face softening for a fleeting, unguarded moment in which his mouth stretches across the length of his face in a yawn. A yawn. A low chuckle breaks free from my lips. I can't help it. Thanks to his mechanic face and wired responses, up until recently I viewed this guy as nothing more than a selfish, unfeeling, ambitious robot—and now, seeing his face shrink in on itself with a gesture this mundane feels so odd that it's funny.

"What?" the dumbass demands defensively, voice hushed, when he notes the slowly expanding grin on my face. His eyes are watery from the yawn, his nose and cheeks a bright red, his lips slightly downturned, and I think, of all the new faces I've seen him make lately, this one might be my favourite.

"Nothing; you just look stupid when you yawn."

"I do?" he mumbles, baffled.

I shrug. "I'm just not used to seeing you look so stupid. Look, even your hair is weirdly standing up today—"

"Good morning!" an annoyingly chipper voice exclaims, and suddenly, that pesky girl Amari is in my line of vision. No wonder it's been so quiet. It's too early for this shit. I scowl, but the nerd curtly returns her greeting. 

"Akito! You've got some serious bedhead," she points out, a little laugh shaking out of her. "Here, let me get it for you." In one fluid motion, she runs her fingers through the thin strands of his hair, setting them in place, and they look soft where they part for her hand. When she's done, she gives his head a little pat. "All better."

I close my outstretched hand into a fist, my fingers digging sharply into my palm. Whatever.

*✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:

We were supposed to sort out the equipment in the sports room for the committee thing today, but there was hardly any sorting needed, so I find myself grumbling inwardly as we move towards the school exit with our bags in tow a mere fifteen minutes later.

I don't want to go home yet. Curse those damn sports club managers; you'd expect them to do a lousier job maintaining the sports room but turns out they're a fan of the orderly, just like a certain someone else I know. The nerd is four paces ahead, moving along in swift strides, no doubt pleased with how things turned out. I swear, if those pages he always sticks his face in don't suffocate him soon, his flawlessly knotted tie will get him first.

He can't wait to get away from me, can he? He stayed with me last time, though, right by my bed, all day. What was up with that? Maybe I'm a lot more tolerable when I'm too sick to say shit. My stomach flips uncomfortably. What the hell? It's always been like this; why am I getting all pissy about it now?

However, one glance at Kurumi-senpai, who's walking over to us now, waving happily, is enough to make me feel better instantly. That's right. Senpai never walks away from me. Almost every memory I have of her is one where she's walking towards me, sunlight starkly glinting off her, shining a halo over her head, marking her for the fucking angel that she is.

She's the only one. The only one who's ever tried to convince me that maybe I'm not the worthless piece of shit I know I am. She's the only...

Next to me, Amari stops walking, and her lips curve slightly in a small, curious smile. "What? You're staring."

"When I fought with my dad last week, I got so mad that I straight up hurled the thing across the room," she said to me the day she saw the wall that keeps all my flaws on display, holding up her phone so that I could see the crack running along its surface. "We all lose control sometimes; it's only human." Then that shameless grin. "You just had a bigger canvas to work with."

"Nothing," I mutter now and turn away, stuffing my hands deep into my pockets as confusion blooms in my chest. What the fuck.

Senpai says hello to me and hugs the other three before opening her bag and handing us each a wrapped ham burger that she got from her boss at work. A year ago, she might have hugged me too, but I find that I'm not bothered by this distance between us. I'm happy that we're at least on speaking terms now. I'm in no position to want more anyway.

We take our burgers and move to a low bench under the shade of a momiji tree, a safe distance from the playground. Senpai sits down with Amari and the nerd on either side of her, while I hover in front of them without any complaint. Hanging around these idiots is worth it if it means I'll get to see Kurumi-senpai every day.

I leisurely bite into the burger in my hand, and for once, my stomach isn't crying for me to shove the whole damn thing down my throat.

When I look up, a red splotch on the tip of Amari's nose catches my eye. "You've got ketchup on you—fuck!" A sharp pain suddenly travels up my arm, and I turn to see my skin pinched between the Braids girl's pale fingers. What the...

"Don't tell her," she says under her breath, her face betraying nothing. The girl just pinched me.

"Why!?" I hiss, exasperated.

"It looks cute," she replies nonchalantly, like that's a perfectly logical explanation. She's fucking crazy.

"Whatever," I murmur. "Just...don't do that again. Fuck."

"Sorry," she says flatly, her tone blatantly unapologetic, and it turns out she doesn't even mean it because when Senpai laughs and unpacks a tissue to dab away at Amari's nose a few seconds later, her fingers twitch around my skin again. I swat her hand away this time. "Cut that out, dammit."

She bites her lip, her face twisting in mild displeasure. "Sorry again, I did that subconsciously." This girl is a demon.

I frown and rub at the reddening skin on my forearm. "What the hell is wrong with you?"

She rolls her eyes, the motion so quick and near imperceptible that I might have missed it if I hadn't been glaring straight at her. "I wanted to be the one to wipe it, so I got a little jealous. Anyway, I said I was sorry."

My frown deepens. "Why'd you want to wipe it? That's gross."

She takes her time, swallowing another bite of bread before answering. "Wouldn't you want to do it for the person you like too?"

I scoff. "There's no way Senpai would ever get ketchup on her face in the first place."

She finally looks at me, and I don't know why, but I shift uncomfortably under the weight of her dark gaze. "Kurumi-senpai? Isn't Akito the one you like?"

It's a good thing I finished my bread already, because if I hadn't, I might have spat a wad of it right on her face. "What the fuck gave you that idea!?" I demand. The very possibility of it is so ridiculous that it leaves me feeling slightly horrified.

She shrugs. "I don't know; perhaps the fact that you haven't once stopped watching him since we got here?"

"What? That's not...I didn't," I sputter. That doesn't mean anything. "He just looks funny when he's chewing."

She gives me a knowing look. "Sure, and that's not strange at all."

"You're crazy."

"Senpai huh," she mumbles to herself. "I didn't expect that. Are you going to ask her out?"

"No," I say gruffly. This isn't any of her business, but the words rise in my throat and pour out before I can try and stop them. "I don't want to mess everything up again. She talks to me now." Smiles at me. "This is enough."

"What are you guys talking about?" Amari, that meddlesome girl, asks, coming out of her conversation with Senpai. When I don't answer, she simply drops the subject and starts going on about the bread instead. "This is pretty good; I think I prefer this one to the ones they sell here."

I scowl. "It can't be compared to the cutlet I ate for lunch, though. That one was a million times better." This one is bland and dry.

When all I get in response is a drawn out silence, I let my eyes questioningly flit around the group and freeze. Something is wrong with that idiot's face. Precisely with the shape of his mouth. It's upturned, his cheeks dipping at the corners, and the curve of his lips sends a new light rippling across his features. His downcast eyes are warm, his face is pink and shiny, and—fuck, he doesn't look half dead anymore.

"Well, well," Amari says after recovering from the sight, sounding too amused for her own good. "Someone's happy you enjoyed their cooking."

"It w-was alright; it wasn't even that...it was, fuck, it was just alright," I stutter. It suddenly feels like I have two hearts, because nothing else can explain the echo I hear in my ears after each inexplicably loud thump.

Senpai sits motionless for a beat, taking in the sight of her brother, before her lips stretch in a smile so wide it cuts her face in half. She ruffles his hair, regarding him fondly, and Akito gives her a confused smile of his own before his gaze slowly flicks up to mine. I hold it for a second before breaking away, carrying with me the realisation that I probably have a new favourite face.

"Are you sure that Senpai is the one you like?" Braids girl asks, and I'm sick of letting her make fun of me, so I clench my teeth and whirl on her, determined to get her to fuck off once and for all. But something about the way she's watching Amari, her black eyes swirling wistfully, makes me second-guess myself.

"Because if there's one thing I know for certain," she begins, her voice reaching no ears but mine. "It's that it's never enough."

END OF CHAPTER