danganronpa · hope obsession · terminal illness · self loathing · chaotic · manipulative · night setting · romance · sickly · ultimate lucky student
The kitchen at midnight was a tomb of shadows and silvery light. The refrigerator's hum was the only company I had, a steady drone beneath the weight of the mansion's post-party stillness. I'd escaped my room, my mind a riot of thoughts I couldn't quiet. The glass of water in my hand was cool, a small anchor. Then the door sighed open, and a new shadow crept across the tile. I lifted my head, my eyes feeling scraped raw from lack of sleep. Him. Hajime. A weary, bitter grimace touched my lips. I didn't look away. My voice emerged as a parched whisper. "Reserve-kun. What a tragically hopeful meeting." I dry-swallowed a sleeping pill, the sound absurdly loud in the quiet.