Apathy and laziness hit me like a punch as I slouched over my desk. Why am I even here?
It's not like the teachers or my classmates see me as anything other than a delinquent. It's exhausting, honestly. I don't even understand why I still bother coming back.
Anger flared before I could force myself into brighter thoughts, and almost subconsciously, my fist slammed into the desk.
The sound cut through the room.
My classmates turned toward me.
And there—among them—I saw Suzuki, caught between stepping forward to check on me and holding back to preserve her popular-girl image.
"What?" I snapped. "I feel like shit. I haven't eaten or slept in days."
Most of my classmates turned their backs the moment the words left my mouth. Chairs creaked. Someone coughed. A few people suddenly found their phones fascinating.
Like I'd crossed some invisible line.
A handful of them stayed staring, though—eyes wide, caught somewhere between shock and discomfort.
"I-I hope you feel better soon, bro," one guy said with a nervous laugh, like he was trying to smooth things over without actually getting involved.
It only made the silence heavier.
Almost immediately, the class president—Yamashita Rika, a girl with a brown bob cut and glasses—hurried over, her chair screeching loudly against the floor behind her.
"Shiba-kun… you look kind of pale," she said, worry threading carefully through her voice.
Just enough to fulfill her role.
"Eyo. I mean, I know I usually look like shit… but is it really that bad?" I chuckled dryly.
She stared at me like she couldn't decide whether to be sad or angry.
"Has anyone ever told you that you put yourself down too much?" she sighed, her voice low.
No. Usually, they just agreed with me.
The rest of the class kept staring, dumbfounded, but I didn't give them the satisfaction.
"You know what? I'll just go to the nurse's office," I said, forcing myself to stand.
Easier said than done. I was still limping from the fight. A headache crept through my skull, slow and heavy, and I picked up the pace, desperate to disappear from sight as fast as possible.
I made it to the door. That's as far as I got.
One wrong step put too much pressure on my knee.
Pain shot through my leg and I lost my balance, my knee slamming into the floor.
I gritted my teeth. I felt like screaming—but I refused to let anything out beyond a low snarl.
I didn't want to stay and hear their reactions.
My hand still on the doorknob, I forced it open and practically crawled out of the classroom, slamming the door behind me.
Life's funny.
I just don't understand… why the fuck is this my problem?
I forced myself to stand one more time, clutching the wall for support.
The classroom door opened and closed behind me. I didn't care enough to look back.
"S-Shiba-kun… are you okay?" Yamashita's voice called from beside me.
She sprinted to my side and, once she got close, wrapped her arms around my shoulders to steady me.
"Been better than that," I muttered quietly.
She let out a long breath, as if releasing all the tension in her shoulders.
"You scared me…"
I scare myself, L.O.L.
"I'm sorry," I said flatly.
"Don't be… I'm just glad you're okay," she replied.
You're… what now? If this is an act, fine. You can drop it already.
We eventually reached the nurse's office without exchanging another word.
I lay quietly on the bed and… all of a sudden, her hand rested on my shoulder.
I flinched.
"If you need anything… just text me, okay?," she said, a bit hesitant, before heading toward the door.
Oh, right. I did have her LINE contact. She'd only ever given it to me because she'd show up at my house with printouts when I skipped school. Nothing weird.
"See you later, Shiba-kun!," she called, rocking on her heels, giving me a small smile before bolting out, leaving me alone with my thoughts.
If I didn't know any better, I might've thought she likes me.
Yeah. As if.
She's probably just being nice. Whatever.
I excused myself once I felt steady and left the school. I didn't go home. Instead, I went straight to work.
The manager raised an eyebrow when he saw me.
"Yo, Takumi. Skipping school again?" he asked, casual as ever.
"Didn't feel like attending," I shrugged. "It was making me physically sick. Thought I'd check out the recording booth in the back."
He studied me for a moment, brow still raised, then it clicked.
"Oh. That's where Maestro records his stuff," he said. "You can use it, yeah—but you'll have to ask him for a mix and master, unless you can handle that yourself."
Maestro was the nickname of that producer with the sunglasses, I figured.
"And you'd better be done before your shift starts," he added, a threatening smirk crossing his lips.
Point taken.
I headed to the backrooms and stepped into the booth. Everything I needed was there. The place was messy, stale—but still better than recording tracks on my phone.
After fifteen minutes of digging through beats, one finally clicked.
I opened FL Studio. Plugged in the headphones and the mic. Pressed rec.
It's showtime.
"Igot scars on my heart like tattoos from the blade
They all up on my dick after they threw me away
Fuck were you at, I was going insane
No Akatsuki, I just feel the pain
I'm the king of the lost, with a crown made of chains
Call me a pyro, bars hot as a flame
Life is an ocean, I'm riding the waves
Now that I'm up, hear you calling my name
My name, I'on wanna hear my name from your lips
I opened Pandora's box and she gave me a kiss
Love's a drug, but withdrawal's a bitch
You can't hang with us cause we heard you a snitch
Fuck you and your gang, run a fade, you need six
If people have walls, then I guess I be bricked
Fuck the world, if it's gone I won't cry for it"
Okay. Wow.
I surprised myself with my delivery on the first verse.
I pressed pause.
Yeah—this was it. This was exactly it.
I couldn't wait to show it to them. The thought had me buzzing as I stepped out of the booth, already itching for a drink when—
A girl was standing there.
Stunned.
Red hair. Black lipstick. A black leather jacket over a matching skirt, fishnets torn just enough to look intentional.
She was hot.
Damn it.
"Hey," she chuckled, voice low, teasing. "I heard your little performance~"
She tilted her head, eyes still on me.
"It was cool."
I scratched the back of my neck awkwardly.
"Thanks… I guess," was all I managed.
"Why don't we grab a drink?" she grinned.
I didn't turn her down.
Saw no reason to.
We made it to the counter, the manager flashing me a grin that said, Lil' Takumi's moving up in the world, huh?
The manager leaned over the counter, eyeing us.
"So, what'll it be?" he asked.
"A Bloody Mary, please," the girl said.
"Whiskey, I guess…" I muttered after a moment.
The manager and the girl both chuckled, clearly amused by the sight of a minor asking for alcohol. I just shrugged.
Why should I obey the rules of a society that failed me?
Yeah, I know—the argument can be flipped.
But it failed me long before I ever got the chance to fail it back.
"You sure about that?" he asked, already reaching for a glass.
"Do I look like I give a fuck about the rules?" I fired back, raising an eyebrow.
That did it. The manager and the girl actually laughed this time. A couple minutes later, our drinks were set in front of us.
We took a seat at a table tucked into the right corner of the bar.
"So," she said after we settled in, swirling her glass, "what's your story, rapper boy?"
"Ah… nothing spectacular," I replied, scratching the back of my neck. "Just a delinquent trying to survive gangs and school."
I let out a dry chuckle. "What about you?"
"Same, actually," she giggled, though there was nothing funny about it.
We just sat there after that, talking about nothing important. Her family. Her dreams. Her hobbies. I showed her a few of my other tracks. And for a moment—just a moment—I felt normal.
"Oh… it's almost time for me to go," she said suddenly.
Then she leaned in.
She closed the gap between us, her lips pressing against mine—soft, warm. I froze for half a second before kissing her back, our tongues brushing briefly, clumsy but real.
"I'll be seeing you around," she said with a smile, giving a small wave before turning away.
And I just stayed there.
Stuck.
That was my first kiss.
…Damn.