heartache | t. muichiro

derealization

The feeling of being at a higher level than others spurs everyone on, does it not? Everyone wants power, don't they?

Your eyes carefully followed Muichiro as he circled around you and grabbed your (left/right) hand and lifted your pencil to the paper, scribbling a few things onto the lined sheet whilst towering over your figure.

"I know, I miss you too." You strained a laugh, trying to maintain a sense of composure at the feeling of his hand on yours; a lingering touch. "I'm studying right now. Can I call you later?"

"Gosh, you're such a fucking prude. Tokito really changed you."

The sudden hostility had you flinching. "What do you mean?"

"I mean that you--"

Muichiro shook his head and grabbed the phone from your head, the sound of your boyfriend's voice bleeding through the phone already irking him.

"Tutoring. Bye-bye, now."

And with the flick of the wrist, he flipped the phone shut. You let out a breath you didn't know you were holding, before your midn drifted back to the warmth on your hand.

"Y/N," Muichiro began, "When I was studying the English language in school with you, I remember reading this one book out of my free will just to get better at reading English. It was incredible, but kind of sad. Do you remember the name of it?"

You could clearly remember it. How could you forget? You sat directly next to Muichiro during those years, he always had his nose stuffed in between those yellow-ish pages. "It was Of Mice and Men*, right?"

He nodded. "You haven't read it, have you?"

You awkwardly laughed. "English isn't my specialty..."

A small hum passed Muichiro's lips. "It's about dreams, more specifically the American dream, and the fatal mistake of relying on them to come true." He spoke. "The failed dreams of lonely and hopeless people. The title is from this one poem, and I can still clearly remember the line."

You could remember his rants about this poem just barely.

"The best laid schemes of mice and men--"

"-- often go awry." You finished. "I remember it. What does this have to do with anything?"

"Just felt like mentioning it. It was a good book."

--

The next day, the streets were polluted with mist, fog, and a cool breeze. You could barely see through the thick air whilst you trudged your legs through the pavement. A distant, smaller bird craned its head towards a skittering rat, swooping down in an attempt to catch it. The rat seemed to coil back in response, noticing the bird's small size and attemping to fight back.

The bird's efforts were in vain, meeting a short and painful death whilst being pounced on by the large rat.

A stolen lollipop lolled loosely from your mouth, the stick out in front of you whilst you busied yourself with your phone.

An raging black car raced past you, nearly splashing a puddle of water onto you. You shrieked in surprise and ceased your movements, watching the murky water fly inches away from your face and crashing down onto the sidewalk.