[#slutforasanoya] 

his hair covering his eyes. books tightly hugged to his sweater, protecting them like treasure. intoxicating odors creep its way into his nostrils, causing him to cough loudly. he notices a few classmates— the ones that didn't tease him. his steps are irregular, as if he's running from an invisible force. 

"room 12.... is?" tadashi's face is reddening, he can feel it. he swallows the nervousness away, his palms sweltering as if it was summer. his sweater feels very uncomfortable. as if the whole point of the garment is to annoy the hell out of him, causing every hair on tadashi's back to reject the sweater. 

his eyes feel slightly itchy, if that even makes sense. his mind doesn't have the capability to form a single sentence to save his life, much less think about how his body feels. he decides to look at his shoes instead, his soles slapping against the ceramic tiles in perfect harmony. 

its dangerous to look at the ground while walking the halls of death— aka the school hallways. he knows it. he embraces the rule, as bumping into one of those scary big guys is a hazard— a big one. he should probably peel his eyes off the ground—and with the best dignity he can muster—look ahead with some kind of courageous glint flickering in his eyes. 

but, tadashi is pathetic, and he knows it. 

i should look up now

he tries to. and ultimately fails. he can't face them. they're too scary, with their pasted smirks and croptops. them with their mocking glares, filled to the brink with venom. he is a mouse, placed into a den of snakes, and their mere gaze is turning him to stone. (ha, exactly me tbh)

screw it, tadashi yamaguchi, look ahead

his eyes glance up—until his eyes flash in panic, crashing into unknown territory. his voice is muffled by the other's shirt.

he looks up. a question looms over him as his face contorts into multiple apologetic glances. then he notices that his face is still taped to the significant other's shirt. suddenly he wants to go back to bed.