The Direction it Goes ( Kuroko no Basket Fanfiction)

Chapter 11

Guys I am really sorry if this is depressing but I've been really upset lately and this is kind of my way to cope with it. this chapter was also inspired by the song Ode to Sleep by Twenty One Pilots. I'm also sorry I haven't updated in a while ( a long while) but I've been putting this off for a long time (basically procastinating) and I've wrote this on and off but i still hope you enjoy reading it. Also the only thing I own is Ryoga Kise as a character. 

" The problem with love these days is that society has taught the human race to stare at people with their eyes rather than their souls." - Christopher Poindexter

Ryoga was in class with his head bowed down, his bangs covering his eyes so nobody could see how he truly felt. He didn't want to hear the harsh jabs that would be pointed at him if he looked up.

He didn't want anybody to see his red puffy eyes, to tell him he had no reason to cry in the first place. That just because he is a guy he had no reason to cry.

Although he was a good student who did all of his work, he decided today was a day he was going to skip class.

He got up from his seat and grabbed his book, the chair making a loud noise throughout the classroom as the whole class looked towards him.

Once they saw what happened they all looked away, not sparing him a second glance as he walked out of the classroom with his head down.

He walked out of the classroom hoping he didn't run into anybody.

Ryoga walked down the quiet hallway and felt the piercing gazes of his fellow students, their eyes accusing him of something, as if they want to see him get on his knees and crawl to them for their amusement.

And in way it was like that because it felt like that.

He hurriedly took his earphones attached to his phone from his pocket quickly.

Ryoga

put on a random song and increased the volume.

Passing by the students he made his way towards an unused classroom and slid the doors open. He walked across the classroom and sat down against the wall with the window above him and closed his eyes.

Ryoga sighed. He felt content without the prying eyes of his classmates there.

He immersed himself in the music and closed his eyes and before he knew it he was already closing his eyes.

He let himself be pulled to it, felt how his shoulders started to relax and how he almost felt a little better about himself.

There was something beautiful about this moment. It felt as if he was learning something new about himself.

All of a sudden he felt a sudden fire burst in him, building his confidence, his self-esteem and it only made him feel so much better.

He opened his book and started reading ever precise little detail without skipping any words or lines.

Letting himself be immersed and absorbed into a world where he can come back to, anytime he wants.

It was quiet, like it was meant to be and he couldn't help but relish that.  

He was always around a quiet atmosphere but it felt rare for him to be able to feel at peace with himself, with the world, his raging thoughts. 

Ryoga thought if he didn't think about his problems then he could avoid them for as long as he liked. 

But he often wondered to himself, was this living free? 

He would often stay awake at night pondering this question , hoping that his inner demons would let him go one day. 

What were his inner demons? 

Ryoga only seemed to realize how sad of a person he was if he couldn't even realize what his mistakes and true problems were. 

He realized how insignificant he truly felt and wondered how can he escape from being a prisoner of his own mind. 

Ryoga chuckled to himself because he felt like a character from a few of the several books he read. He felt like his life was a contemporary novel. Contemporary was his favorite genre in books. Although people might find it strange why that was his favorite genre, he didn't care. Smiling to himself, he knew it was because it made him see how the character learns to see the world in a different perspective. How could something like that not be beautiful? It gave him hope. 

His books gave him a sense of hope that nothing else ever did. 

They were his treasure. Words were a treasure to him, because they often spoke more than what they mean. 

With that last thought, he closed his eyes and sighed contentedly as he layed his open book on his chest. Feeling the open window move the rustling curtains, and felt the tips of his hair flowing with the wind. 

Perhaps this was a sign that more was to come out of his life. More to a quiet boy, that loves to read, that's afraid of speaking out to others.

At least that's what he hoped for, but there was no problem with hoping.