To The Very Marrow Of My Bones

01 | The Actual Story

[to the very marrow of my bones]

(Trigger Warning mentioned in detail in author's note, and brief mention in the picture above.)

Weariness clings to him, a persistent child grasping at his weary frame.

It refuses departure, melding with him until it merges into his very essence; seeping into his veins, penetrating the marrow of his bones. Enfolding him in its embrace until limbs protest and yawns echo loudly, even mustering a smile becomes a Herculean feat.

It looms, evident in his disinterest in continuing conversations, in the indifference towards Suneo's incessant boasting of lavish gifts. Unmoved by Gian's threats, lacking the vigor to ask Shizuka to spend time together. All endeavors seem futile, yielding the same outcome. He studies, albeit sluggishly, moments lost to gazing at distant walls, while words dance before weary eyes. Seeking solace in tasks that don't weigh upon his limbs or strain his eyes—mostly successful, and he ignores the ones that aren't.

Suneo starts casting him puzzled glances, bewildered by his lack of reaction, mouth gaping every time he simply walks away. Gian's confusion mounts as tears fail to surface. Shizuka's concern deepens. His parents raise eyebrows at his consistently growing grades, and he brushes it aside. He ignores the effort it now takes to conjure smiles and laughter, how he has to physically muster up emotions. Ignores the way it seems to drain a bit of the life out of him.

Ignoring stuff has long been his forte.

⚫⚫⚫

It unfolds on a Wednesday, as calamities often do, catching unsuspecting souls in the midst of midweek turmoil.

Despite a night's rest that stretched beyond eight hours, exhaustion drapes over him like a heavy shroud. He ignores it, yesterday had been an adventure, albeit a terrifying one, but he's used to it. So, Nobita does what he always does, shrug it away, and ignore the fact that the action make him feel even more tired.

The exhaustion, he realizes, doesn't limit itself to physical exhaustion. His mind feels muddled, thoughts weighed down like saturated cotton. Thinking becomes laborious. Emotions too, feel draining, and he makes no effort to feign otherwise. No one questions him; his reputation for laziness precedes him. They wouldn't inquire, not like they would for Dekisugi, besieged by praise for yet another flawless performance—it's something Nobita can't summon the energy to envy. In truth, he wonders why he ever bothered; it's all so exhausting, after all.

His lack of snappy retorts to Dekisugi's glowing score goes unnoticed, as does his lack of disdain towards the boy when Shizuka offers her homemade cakes to him. No one bothers to glance his way, and Nobita finds relief in their indifference; he's uncertain how he'd react if they did. He opts out of baseball, quietly munches on his lunch, and remains silent during free periods, tuning out the cacophony of chatter around him. He yearns for sleep, yet despite the overwhelming fatigue, slumber eludes him.

When he puts his head up as the day draws to close, Nobita finds Dekisugi's concerned gaze fixed upon him. They're seated side by side, a placement that once served a purpose, though the details now elude him, lost in the fog of exhaustion. Annoyance bubbles within him as he struggles to recall the significance of their proximity and the plan it entailed. Dekisugi's intense stare, brows furrowed in worry, only adds to his irritation.

He merely lifts an eyebrow, not having the energy to open his mouth, Dekisugi's attempts at speech resemble a floundering goldfish, and the irritation spikes even higher. After enduring three minutes of awkward silence, he gathers his belongings, nods at Dekisugi, and strides out of the building, ignoring the gaze burning into his back.