The current state Kentaro found himself in was… Mentally heartbreaking. He sat at the kitchen table, forehead pressed against the wood, rhythmically smacking it again and again. Each thud vibrated through the apartment, and with every strike, his frustration only grew heavier.
"Damn, damn, damn. Why. Why. Why." He muttered between dull thuds.
"If you're going to slam your head into something, at least let me do it for you," Yura deadpanned, one cheek resting lazily against her palm.
"I don't think I want to see that." Serica's voice was quieter, almost thoughtful. She tilted her head as if examining some curious new specimen. "For some reason, when he does it… It hurts. I didn't know feelings like that even existed."
Kentaro froze mid-thud and slowly raised his head. His eyes were half-lidded, bloodshot from lack of sleep, his expression caught somewhere between exhaustion and disbelief.
