SEND ME A SYMBOL FOR ANGST;
☯: what my muse says to yours after they haven’t spoken for five hours since a fight
haruka nanase does not like confrontation.
that much is common knowledge among his small but undeniably close group of friends. makoto knew. nagisa knew, and rei, dutiful as he is, learned rather quickly. rin understood, however it seemed rin drew the greatest pleasure in riling haru up somehow; be it with friendly competition or otherwise. haru never truly felt quite too bothered by it, but then, he never told rin just how tired he usually felt after these isolated incidents. rin meant no harm, and so haru opted to remain silent.
this, however, was not one of those cases. haru couldn’t count on makoto to help him out of this. this wasn’t something small that would fade away in the face nagisa’s natural ability to provide comic relief where ever he went. rei would not be playing the mediator. no, this was something haru had to deal with alone. and he knew it. this wasn’t something that would eventually work itself out -- like a sore muscle, he mused -- on its own without much input from haru himself. this would continue until he decided to swallow the lump restricting his breath and start trying to fix it.
it wasn’t easy. but it certainly shouldn’t be this hard. she would pick up, if he called. if by text, she would respond. but without prompting, haruka knew waiting would lead him to his grave and not much else. she was waiting, and she would continue to wait until the first move had been made.
haru couldn’t quite blame her. he’d made sure he’d gotten the last word, and it wasn’t one he could say he was particularly proud of...
his fingers were still drumming idle rhythms into the surface of his desk. he would have continued gnawing on them had he not accidentally bitten too hard and broke the skin. he wasted twenty minutes searching for a band-aid to treat an injury that would take no time at all to mend instead of trying to treat the one that was bleeding out with every minute he avoided picking up his phone.
haru found the band-aid. but by then, he figured, there was no point in opening it.
the thought frightened him enough to send him back to his room, but not enough to convince him to take action. by the time haru finally unlocked his phone, too many hours had passed. it was late. but some part of him prayed it wasn’t too late. his fingers were unsure and unsteady as he typed:
[ text ] ` hey... are you sleeping? `
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