Work Text:
The highschool was no longer filled with the footsteps of students rushing to their lockers and running out the doors into the sun’s light.
The few that were left in the lone halls were already walking to a different classroom, mostly kids in detention—for bullying or misbehavior—but some were making their way for club meetings, like Yuri.
Yuri wasn’t really a fan of being late, infact she hated it. The feeling of being the only being not on time to a scheduled event was enough to make her unwell. Thinking of it even made her uncomfortable in her steps.
But throughout all that, there was still something holding her back from walking faster than she was now. It was a thought that she felt like swallowed her entirety whole. Swallowing her up and spitting her out as if she was nothing but a mere spect of dust.
She didn’t even know how it formed. Yuri’s entire relationship with Natsuki was constantly bickering back and forth about opinions, mostly about manga and if it was literature—which Yuri truly believes it isn’t, Natsuki denys her opinion—recently she found herself not popping into Natsuki’s points to argue with. Though she wasn’t apart of the club, Yuri did love debating, she loved coming up with points and hearing others, (even if they’re wrong) but now it was different.
Her shoes stopped infront of the door and she looked through the small window.
Sure enough the other three girls were there, possibly looking over their poems for the week. As Sayori insisted that it should be a new thing. Yuri had hers written and done and typically was perhaps a bit excited for the girls to read it and give feedback, even if they sometimes slightly shaded it. All their writing styles were different and it contrasted all of them very nicely.
But now she found herself hesitant to walk into the room, much like when she first joined the club. The poem was stuck between the pages of her book she brought.
She swiftly moved out of the doors way, incase one of them were to notice her lurking. Yuri’s fingers opened the book and slipped the poem out, and reread it, over and over again.
It was poem from the view of someone in love, though believing it was impossible. What was described was the one the ‘writer’ was inlove with.
The more she read it the more she realized how much it seemed like she was describing Natsuki.
And she was the writer.
She felt her face turn slightly red as she held the book and paper close to her chest. How was she supposed to go in there and pretend like everything was normal?
After a few moments she breathed slowly. “Its a foolish mistake, nothing will come out of it.” Yuri whispered to nobody but herself. It was then how much better Sayori was at comforting.
She lifted herself off the wall and her lilac eyes shifted towards the door handle. Eventually, she opened it. Nothing will be different.
“Its about time, emo wannabe!”
Nothing is different. It never will be. And she was content with that.
“I am not emo, Natsuki.”
Monika smiled at her and Sayori appeared to be fighting the urge to hug her. Yet all Yuri could do was stare at Natsuki as she had her hands on her hips, saying more loveable insults at her.
Good thing none of them can really understand her poems truly or else those thoughts would be real.