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✦ ENTRY NO. 004
✦ TIME LEFT: 25 DAYS
bᥱᥱᥒ ᥲ ᥕhιᥣᥱ, h᥆ρᥱ y᥆ᥙ ᥕᥱrᥱᥒ't t᥆᥆ ᥕ᥆rrιᥱd. ᥉᥆rry ι dιdᥒ't rᥱρ᥆rt, bᥙt ᥕhᥲt dιd y᥆ᥙ ᥱ᥊ρᥱᥴt ιt ᥕᥲ᥉ thᥱ ᥕᥱᥱkᥱᥒd! ι hᥙᥒg ᥆ᥙt ᥕιth ᥉ᥱr᥎ᥲᥣ ᥲᥒd ρᥱᥣᥲ. ᥉ᥱr᥎ᥲᥣ ᥴᥲᥒ ᥲᥴtᥙᥲᥣᥣy ρᥣᥲy thᥱ gᥙιtᥲr ᥕᥱᥣᥣ, ᥲᥒd ρᥱᥣᥲ ᥴᥲᥒ ᥲᥣ᥉᥆ drᥙ꧑. Ιt ᥲᥣ꧑᥆᥉t ꧑ᥲkᥱ᥉ ꧑ᥱ ᥕᥲᥒt t᥆ try ᥲᥒd ᥣᥱᥲrᥒ ᥲᥒd ιᥒ᥉trᥙ꧑ᥱᥒt t᥆᥆. bᥙt ι'꧑ gᥱttιᥒg ᥆ff t᥆ριᥴ, ι ρr᥆꧑ι᥉ᥱ ι'ᥣᥣ d᥆ ᥕhᥲt ι ᥴᥲ꧑ᥱ f᥆r ᥉᥆᥆ᥒ. Ι ᥉tιᥣᥣ hᥲ᥎ᥱ tι꧑ᥱ th᥆ᥙgh, ι'꧑ ᥕᥲιtιᥒg f᥆r thᥱ rιght ᥲt꧑᥆᥉ρhᥱrᥱ. Jᥙ᥉t ᥣᥱt ꧑ᥱ ᥱᥒj᥆y thι᥉!
✩ ◛ .⋆
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𓆩⟡𓆪
╰┈➤ 𝑻𝒉𝒆 𝒉𝒐𝒖𝒔𝒆 𝒘𝒂𝒔 𝒆𝒎𝒑𝒕𝒚. Some morning light filtered through the window, casting a soft glow in the room. This atmosphere felt lonely as I woke up, the chill of the room contrasting with the warmth of my bed.
An alarm clock next to my bedside caught my eye, and the realization that I was running late hit me. A few seconds of standing in shock, and I was already slipping into my uniform.
They were the only pairs of clothes I owned anyways.
Rushing out of the house, I skipped breakfast, intending to grab a snack from a vending machine along the way.
The distant sound of shouting reached my ears. Startled, I slammed on the brakes, skidding to a stop.
"Hey, hey! Wait a second!" The cries cut through the air, latching onto my consciousness. I looked back to the source of the noise, and there, amidst the morning's backdrop, was March. She was running towards me with an urgency mirrored in her expression.
As she approached me, her chest heaved with from all the running, and her voice carried the weight of desperation.
"Please, you have to help me!" the young girl begged, words punctuated by gasps for air. Her hands found their way to her knees as she bent forward, attempting to catch her breath.
"Huh? What's going on?" I questioned, my initial confusion giving way to a genuine concern. March looked up at me, her eyes wide with distress and worry.
"Dan Heng is sick. Can you please go and take care of him for a little while? You don't have to stay long," she implored, carrying a sense of hopefulness that tugged at my heartstrings. The plea in her eyes resonated deeply within me, almost eroding all of my initial resistance.
Almost all of it.
"No way. Go take care of that scumbag yourself," I told her curtly. Images of our past interactions flooded through my head—his scowls, rude insults, and overall bad attitude—this illness might just be a taste of the karma he deserves for everything he put me through.
"Wait, please! I really would if I could, but I've already been absent six times this semester. If I'm absent again, Mr. Yang will surely give me a week of detention!" March's words once again chipped away at my determination, leaving me teetering on the edge of giving in.
"Seriously?! If you get the whole week detention then we also can't hang out... it would really put our project back."
She nodded profusely and grabbed hold of my shirt.
"Exactly! So please, I'm begging you. Dan Heng might be rude, but he doesn't hate you, and I trust you to take good care of him. I'll cover for you as well. Since you're new, Mr. Yang won't be upset."
Although I had a strong aversion to the idea, March's words held a sincerity that was undeniable. It was clear that she held a genuine concern for Dan Heng, and her earnestness was hard to ignore. I couldn't just turn down her honest cry for help.
"Okay fine... I'm doing this for you and only you though," I paused for a moment, thinking more clearly about the whole situation. Then, a realization dawned on me, "Wait—what do I need to do exactly...?" The girl promptly took out her phone, waving it close to my face.
"Let's exchange contacts. I'll send you his address. All you need to do is bring him some warm food and change his towel. He tends to get high fevers..."
With a hesitant nod, I accepted the responsibility. She offered a grateful smile, pulling me into a hug.
"Okay. I'll be in touch if I need anything." March waved me off with a big 'Thank you', and I reluctantly continued my detour, not particularly excited to deal with the famously ill-tempered Dan Heng.
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Unexpectedly, the front door of his house wasn't locked. Despite my initial resistance, I found myself standing in the doorway of his house. Earlier, I had rushed to a nearby convenience store to purchase soup, following March's request. Now, clutching the plastic bag, I felt an ounce of unease, before deciding to enter.
"Pardon my intrusion," I mumbled, the sentence getting lost in the silence of the house. Casting a quick glance around, I noticed the tidy surroundings and moved carefully, cautious not to disturb the tranquility that enveloped the home.
Navigating the down corridor, I searched for his room, mindful of my footsteps. The first room I entered turned out to be the bathroom, but I pressed on. The next room, adorned with shades of pink, which certain items that hinted they belonged to March. A fleeting thought then crossed my mind—did they share this space? Quickly dismissing the notion, I refocused on my task at hand.
There were two more doors to explore, I chose one to give a gentle knock, and to my surprise a voice actually responded. "Come in," he murmured, barely audible.
As I stepped into the dimly lit room, the rustling of the bag I carried echoed softly. Before me lay Dan Heng, disheveled and clearly under the weather.
"March, I told you I'm fine. You need to go to school before Mr. Yang—" His words tapered off as he realized I wasn't March.
"Um, hey," I greeted, feeling the weight of his stare press on my nerves. The male's expression shifted from surprise to a scowl, and his posture immediately turned defensive.
"Of all the people she could've sent, it had to be you," he muttered, annoyance practically pouring out of him.
"Let's get one thing straight—you said I could come in," I retorted, my frustration evident as he turned away with an indifferent 'Tch.' "Look, I'm not here to fight. I agreed to help you because March asked me to." Despite this thoughtful explanation, he seemed uninterested, engrossed in the book he retrieved from beneath the pillow.
As I stood there, it became abundantly clear that trying to engage in a conversation with him was a futile endeavor. Frustration gnawed at me, but I eventually decided to leave the room.
Determination to fulfill my promise is what fueled me. If there's one thing you can count on, it's that if I make a promise—you bet your ass I'm going to follow through.
I gathered my resolve and headed towards the kitchen to prepare the soup. My fingers fumbled slightly with the unfamiliar utensils, and my brows furrowed in concentration as I tried to decipher his kitchen layout.
This kitchen was nothing like I'd ever seen before. How is someone supposed to make anything in this? Then, just as I was about to give up, a little March appeared in the air—eyes big with a pleading gaze. I quickly swatted the imaginary image away.
Screw you guilty conscious!
I made my way back to Dan Heng's room, carefully holding the bowl of soup that took everything in me to make. Placing the bowl very gingerly on his nightstand, I exhaled a sigh of relief. The accomplishment felt significant, even though my cooking adventure had been nothing short of an uphill battle.
Yet, as I stood there glancing at the bowl and the young man, couldn't help but notice that it remained untouched. His gaze barely flickered towards the offering I had painstakingly prepared. He simply continued reading his book, seemingly indifferent to the aromatic warmth that filled the room.
With a sigh, I lowered my head, realizing that my attempts to extend an olive branch were falling flat. "Your kitchen is confusing, so it took me longer to make the food, sorry," I murmured, almost to myself, as I sat down on the floor beside the bed.
Time seemed to stretch as I observed him. Dan Heng's attention was far more invested in the pages than in the food before him. My patience waned, and I was on the verge of giving voice to my exasperation when he finally shifted on the bed.
"Why are you even doing all this? I was rude to you first, and I haven't exactly been any nicer," his words cut through the silence, startling me with their unexpected sincerity. I thought maybe this was the moment we could reconcile, and I expected to see remorse written on his face. Yet once glance at the boy only confirmed he was still buried within the confines of his book, not even paying attention to me.
But the acknowledgment of his own behavior was a step in the right direction—I suppose.
With hesitation in choosing my response carefully, I finally spoke, "I'm not here to make enemies. It's not like I hate you or anything—we just got off on the wrong foot. And don't forget, I'm doing this for March's sake."
His demeanor changed slightly, a fleeting hint of vulnerability betraying his indifference. "Oh, right... I almost forgot she was the one who sent you. She could've just called Himeko."
"Himeko?" The unfamiliar name piqued my interest, causing me to lean in a bit closer.
"It's the lady we live with. She knows Mr. Yang and the school staff, so she offered to let us stay with her until we graduate. She's very kind," the young man explained, briefly lifting his gaze from the words he was reading.
The revelation of their shared living arrangement gave me pause, as the pieces of their dynamic started to fall into place. "So, you and March live together? That explains why you're so close," I mused, chucking just a little.
Dan Heng let out a sigh, his eyes returning to the book. "You should go now. You probably have better things to do. I'll be alright," he murmured, turning a page.
"Huh, are you sure about this? You haven't even eaten, and you don't look too good," I queried, genuine concern etching my voice.
"Yes, just go," his words were abrupt, almost dismissive. A moment of hesitation weighed on me, the uncertainty of leaving him in this state nagging at my conscience. Yet, I couldn't afford to push him further and undo the fragile connection I had managed to establish. With a lingering glance, I stepped out and into the hallway.
However, just as I reached the front door, a series of loud crashes echoed from within his room. Alarmed, I spun on my heel and rushed back in, my eyelids widening at the chaotic scene before me.
The boy had fallen from his bed, tangled in his sheets, and his normally pale face was flushed a deep shade of crimson. Was he hiding the fact his condition was worsening from me this whole time? Without hesitation, I rushed to his side, attempting to help him regain footing.
"Dan Heng, you're burning up," I exclaimed, my voice laced with worry as I felt his forehead with the back of my hand, there was an intense heat radiating from his skin.
His eyes flickered open, a mixture of surprise and discomfort evident in his expression. "Sorry for being... a burden like this," he managed to utter weakly, despite it sounding strained.
My concern outweighed any frustration, but it didn't help that I was still mad at him for refusing my assistance. "Shut up—I'm here to make sure you don't die or whatever. Let's get you back onto bed first."
With great effort, I managed to somehow get him back into the sheets.
Reaching into the bag I brought from the store, I retrieved the fever medicine I had thought ahead to buy. Carefully measuring the dose, I brought it to his lips, urging him to drink. The plastic top clinked as he complied, and the liquid slowly disappeared from the cup.
With the medicine administered, it was time to fetch a rag, dipping it in cool water before placing it gently on his overheated forehead. The simple gesture was met with a faint sigh of relief from him, his tense features finally relaxing.
I observed the steady rhythm of his breathing, feeling proud at the slight improvement in his condition. He was no longer wracked with pain, and his fever seemed to have eased its grip on him.
Seating myself again, my back pressed lightly against the edge of his bed, I allowed my mind to drift, exhaustion tugging at the edges of my consciousness. As the room settled into silence once more, I began to fall into drowsiness at the gentle rise and fall of Dan Heng's chest.
It wasn't until the sound of soft groaning, pulling me back from the brink of sleep, that I regained my awareness. Blinking away the remnants of drowsiness, I checked the time on my watch, only to be met with the realization that hours had slipped by—two in the afternoon.
"What the hell?! I slept for that long—?!"
My surprised exclamation was met with a wince from Dan Heng. "Hey, keep it down, my head is still spinning," he grumbled weakly, sitting up with a hand to his head.
I flushed slightly, embarrassed by my own lack of awareness. "Oh, shit, sorry about that," the sentence came out a gentle whisper, mindful of his condition.
Yet an unexpected chuckle bubbled from him, and I couldn't help but respond with a sheepish smile.
"Well, you don't have to go that low," he quipped with a hint of amusement, his momentary display of humor catching me completely off guard.
"No way, I made the stoic Dan Heng laugh! This is a moment of history; we should write it down," I teased in a light hearted manner, feeling a rush of excitement that he was doing something other than scowling at me.
His laughter faded into a genuine smile, the guarded façade he usually wore dissipating. "Hey, thank you for, uh... helping me," the young man's words were uncharacteristically earnest.
"Don't mention it," I replied softly, as I rose from my seat.
Fixing my appearance to be as presentable as possible, he mumbled something so softly that I almost didn't catch it, "Seems like I misjudged you..."
Curiosity and a touch of amusement prompted me to lean in a little closer. "What was that?" I inquired, a gentle tease hidden within the question.
His eyes met mine, a flicker of bashfulness coloring his features. Dan Heng's retort was swift—almost defensive—as he adamantly denied ever saying anything. I chuckled, playing along with his sudden bout of shyness.
As I turned to finally leave his room, I kept an ear out for anymore commotion. Yet even as I reached the doorway again, there came no more noise.
Then a realization hit me, causing me to immediately rush outside the house—shutting the door firmly behind me.
Why was I disappointed to leave?
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╰┈➤ EDITED ✦
Original publication: 06.18.2023
Re-written: 08.26.2023
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TEACHERS AND STAFF AT ASTRAL HIGH
𝗣𝗿𝗶𝗻𝗰𝗶𝗽𝗮𝗹 𝗝𝗶𝗻𝗴 𝗬𝘂𝗮𝗻
The charming head of the high school, known for being rather relaxed and easy going. Can have a strong discipline when provoked however. Respected by most of the school.
𝗡𝘂𝗿𝘀𝗲 𝗡𝗮𝘁𝗮𝘀𝗵𝗮
Caring and kind health aid. She makes sure to let the students know they are in good hands.
𝗠𝘀. 𝗬𝘂𝗸𝗼𝗻𝗴
The homeroom teacher of the first year class. She is kind to default, but will bring her foot down if need be.
𝗠𝗿. 𝗬𝗮𝗻𝗴
The perpetually tired second year homeroom teacher. Although he is pleasant most of the time, according to his students he can have a very strict side.
𝗠𝗿. 𝗦𝗰𝗿𝗲𝘄𝗹𝗹𝘂𝗺
The teacher of the third year homeroom class. He is known for having a passion for education, which leads to very boring and difficult lectures. He gets along quite well with the first year student, Herta.
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