Hey everyone! It's, uh... it's been a while. I'm currently working on the next chapter, but I keep finding things to add or remove, so it's taking longer than expected. It's like 95% done, don't worry, but I figured that while y'all are waiting, I would release a sneak peek to show I'm actually working on this book lol.
Don't worry about these previews becoming frequent. They won't, I promise. I don't think I'll do previews much in the future. It's just been so long since I've released an update, I figured you guys deserve to see some new content. I asked, and some readers wanted a preview so here you go!
This preview is formatted to show different parts of the chapter, so if it seems grating, it's because I'm showing SPECIFIC parts. Keep in mind some things in this preview might change when the actual chapter is released. Minor changes ofc, but still. I hope you enjoy!
A glimmering fire of orange light flamed to existence from the lighter contained in the hand of the temporary leader of the delinquents as he flipped over the silver base lid, firmly rolled a thumb over the metal spark wheel, and lightened the end of his cigarette. Emanations of ablaze and flaring crackles sparked on the ember shortly as it suddenly flickered to life. He used the curve of his palm to impede any breeze disturbances and to momentarily shroud out the viewing of his cigarette, the luminosity of the swaying tangerine hue radiating onto his shadowed features. The ignited cigarette dangled loosely from the slope of his slightly parted lips. Smoke infiltrated his lungs, inflaming his sensitive tissues, a series of hoarse coughing happening as a consequence; being a casual smoker, his body disliked the delayed ingestion of cigarettes and frequented the unpleasurable bodily reactions. Recomposure wasn't too challenging but he exhausted his effort, so he sighed, long-winded, taking a minute to stall another drag. Occasional puffs of smoke departed from his mouth as he released polluted exhalations, trails of airborne grey particles ascending above his head before disappearing seconds later with the moderate flowing of passing winds.
"What a freaking morning."
He stared at cigarette number 8 in his hands. A mass combination of cancer that becomes seemingly mollified by the professional names covering the thousands of incredibly dangerous chemicals.
"You're going to have to start smoking frequently," Umeji recalled Hayanari's instruction after introducing him to his cigarette carton,"the addiction starts off almost instantly. For your body to handle the nicotine, you can't smoke casually. Unless you want to hack your lungs out every time you pick up a smoke. Almost all smokers smoke several cigs a day. It can't be something to do once a month."
"Tch," he muttered.
And to think just over a year ago, the mere idea of partaking in the intoxication of any substance would've been met with refusal. He'd never been fond of drugs or smoking or whatever the narcotic may be. Even now, he remains unimpressed and dissatisfied. And yet he chose to do this, feeling as though he had to. Because he needed to.
Slanted against the wall next to the right side of the school entrance gate, Umeji resided, located beside a tall hedge, smoking, obscured from an area of sight. He harboured no compulsive tendency to engage in an addictive routine with nicotine, neither did he possess any form of an innate pleasure from his occasional indulgence; this wasn't a regular occurrence, after all, nor was it a custom he endeavoured to partake in, at least as a daily ritual. Rather, it was an "activity" of the sorts he'd grown accustomed to fairly recently on a standard to the taboo nature of his unconventional lifestyle . . . To maintain his image, he'd think from time to time . . . An inward dismissal followed expectedly as he shook his head to eliminate the thought; there was no necessity to regard those thoughts. He didn't like to be reminded of exactly WHY he was a delinquent; it's as if he wanted to reconstruct his memories, 'cause a path of delinquency defined by self-motivation as opposed to a method to avoid trauma sounded much less shameful, did it not? Those statements of delinquency he projected to the world needed to be defined as something clearly cynical, not emotional. A threatening aura- that unspoken statement of apparent delinquency- worked wonders to have others avoid him like the plague.
There he goes again, reminding himself of his biggest troubles. He hated reminders.
In the midst of trying to erase his thoughts, a strange thought crossed him. (Y/n), that broad. The one who he's been interacting with lately, against his better wishes.
. . .
How long ago was it? Around a month, or just over? His memory mulled over the interaction of that evening; the day they met- rather, officially met, they exchanged the idles of an introductory conversation, a brief presentation of their existences. After he basically rescued them from meeting a pitiable end from the bullies, of all people. His impenetrable hatred of bullies was the only reason he intervened, not because he felt any strong feelings for her. His actions that day might've been personal in a general sense, but not in a personal sense of likeability towards (Y/n). Tch, yeah. Liking (Y/n)? As if.
Strange, wasn't it? An interaction completely out of character. It was understandable for him to intercept what could've been the moment a victim became a statistic due to the likes of a bully, but it was what happened after that stuck out particularly. He didn't just leave right after, he wanted to properly greet her. That day, he bothered to introduce himself and the others. The question is, why? Why did he feel the need to exchange such tedious pleasantries? Human decency? As if. He isn't a good person, he assured himself. He never bothered to introduce himself to any other student before- or even others in everyday situations, highlighting the magnitude of peculiarity surrounding the situation. Not sure why that sudden interest transpired but it happened anyway, regardless. Perhaps it felt necessary? Maybe he felt a force of sorts, a magnetic connection to do so? Maybe he just felt the vaguest form of guilt or pitiful feelings after witnessing (Y/n)'s subjection to the bitch brigade of basic blondes. He never really pondered about it until now. It was strange . . .
(Y/n) . . . (L/n)?
Huh.
'Her last name seems familiar. I don't get it,'
But why should he care?
He doesn't, actually. Not on a large scale, anyway. It's more of a passing thought above anything else.
. . .
Try as he might, he couldn't ignore the thoughts. He thought about her more deeply. Maybe it was her skin tone, the colour of her eyes, her mannerisms when sheepish or otherwise flustered and distraught, the way she chose to iterate her words or a certain intonation to her voice- an attribute about her person or outward demeanour stuck out. Something provoked a memorable sense of familiarity. However . . . Highly unlikely scenario, right? He'd never seen the likes of her before, not until she attended Akademi, that is. He never bothered with the "noble duty" of remembering his fellow students but she stuck out strangely, like a sore thumb.
...
"Kizuguchi, kill that smoke NOW! Has your dumbass forgotten about policy once again? Smoking on school grounds is strictly against one of the main school policies and absolutely refrained. Under no circumstances should a student on school property be found with any contraband on their person. Not to mention that it is, in fact, illegal to be caught with cigarettes under the age of twenty,"
Bothered by the interruption of his solitude, he suppressed a sigh, not having the chance to deeper analyze his thoughts. It was only a result of boredom that he decided to recall old events between him and the (h/c)-coloured individual. It's not like he valued her presence; he simply held some confusion toward the feelings she arose in him, in his conscious mind. Feelings in question being that sense of knowing he felt. She felt familiar somehow. Not the kind of familiarity of seeing the same clerk at a store, or walking by the same person on a street at a different date, but a sense of familiarity on the level of something . . . more. Whatever, he thought to himself. (Y/n) wasn't that important, anyway. If the feelings persisted and decided to bother him more, he'll think more thoroughly about it at a different time, because he'd be lying if he said he wasn't the least bit interested.
He straightened his posture and turned to the source of the voice.
"Tch. Bold of you to assume I'd have forgotten."
And there you have it! The chapter is long and so is the preview, inevitably. As you can see, a major hint for the upcoming chapter is that the chapter is dealing with Umeji's internal conflicts... while also an external conflict that appears later on in the chapter. I hope you enjoyed it! Stay tuned for upcoming updates!