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it feels like drowning

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The rapping on her door snapped Fumi out of her breakdown, spiral, self-loathing haze, giving her a moment of reprieve. Only a moment though, before a familiar voice spoke up. 

“Fumi! You’re running late for the student council meeting. Yachiyo and Mei Fan are still new at this whole thing, so you can’t be slacking off now. Akira’s words.” Michiru said, upbeat as ever. Fumi wiped the tears from her eyes; a useless endeavor since she hadn’t even stopped crying. Stuffing all of the rage, jealousy, and insecurity down, she took as deep of a breath as she could, as if not seconds earlier breathing was about as easy as loving her sister.

“I’m a bit busy right now!” Fumi calls out in the farthest thing from an even tone. “I’m getting a bit behind on work, I’ll be there as soon as I can.”

“Alright, if you say so…” Fumi couldn’t see Michiru, but she was sure the smaller blonde gave the door to her room a disapproving glance. “You’re our Frau Jade. We’re depending on you, y’know.”

“Do you remember who you’re talking to?” Akira and Michiru have long since stopped trusting her, Fumi knew. The way the two whispered to each other while glancing at Fumi only cemented that. “I won’t let you down.” The lie tasted bitter in her mouth.

If Fumi dared give into the false reality in her mind, Michiru would respond with a “You could never let us down, Fumi,” but the Frau Jade wouldn’t give into the same thoughts that led her to—

Months, so many months later, Fumi would utter the words she dared to think in this moment, the thought of a deteriorating knight cursing a younger sibling who seemed to shine brighter than she ever did. Months later, when she’d thought she was finally recovering, she’d find herself in a near mirror spiral of the one she was having now. Months later, after that, she would finally have the admission she was so afraid of, the admission of her weakness to her weakness, and then, only then, would she start healing in full.

No. Fumi couldn’t think about that. She’d lose her mind otherwise. Her traitorous, horrid thoughts would h ave to be kept locked away, far away from her head or heart, away where nobody, especially her could even notice it.

In the present reality, the reality where Fumi bears the title of betrayer (of her promises, her morals, her friends, and—), Michiru instead says, “Alright, I’m trusting you,” before she leaves, footsteps becoming farther and fainter until she’s well beyond the point where Fumi could call out for her as if she even would in the first place.

Fumi buries herself in her blanket again, the hot, suffocating air providing a small reprieve from the outside world and from her thoughts. She took a moment to steel herself, before rising up out of her bed.

The rest of the day awaits.