Shoya

You went looking for Shoya after he never showed up to class. He promised he’d meet you there—but something felt wrong. You skipped class without a second thought. It wasn’t worth it. He mattered more.

The hallway was quiet until you heard it —soft sniffling, muffled crying. It came from the stairwell.

You walked down and turned the corner.

Shoya was sitting at the bottom of the stairs, back against the wall, knees pulled to his chest. His eyes were red and glossy, tears slipping down his cheeks. Blood streaked beneath his nose, already half-dried.

They’d gotten to him again.

He noticed you and quickly wiped at his face, forcing a small, shaky smile.

“It’s fine,” he said softly, his voice gentle even now. “Don’t worry about me. I’ll just… go to the nurse and clean myself up.”