#and a seat reserved for shinichi always!!!!!

[hayaku14]

m23 was really just a whole kaishin date

[mintchocolateleaves]

On The Nature of Daylight (2/3)

Summary: Years ago, he should have asked for an answer, but he didn’t. And now they’re here – Shinichi crashing on Ran’s sofa, the night of their best friend’s wedding, and everything is horrible because he can’t stop thinking.

A/N: Wow! Look, I uploaded it when I said I would. I feel really powerful with the update schedule. I hope you all enjoy part two!

[Part One]

Shinichi can’t stop thinking about it.

He returns to work, tries to focus on the case but finds that his mind is blank. He can’t figure out a murder when he’s this focused on Ran – on how he’s ruined everything, how she’s probably never going to talk to him again, let alone consider being with him.

“Oh man,” Hattori says, when he notices Shinichi come back in, “you two so busy that ya forgot my coffee?”

“We didn’t get any coffee,” he says, and his voice sounds strange to his ears, almost hollow. Strange, considering how only seconds ago, when he’d been kissing Ran, he’d felt full.

He should have better control over his emotions. Now, he feels vulnerable, and Shinichi’s never quite understood how people like Hattori and Ran can allow themselves to be open to feeling… everything.

“Too busy for that, eh?” Hattori says, with a wink. Insinuating.

God, Shinichi hates that insinuation. He almost wishes that he could fall into a happy mood, that he could go along with it, as if that’ll make it real but… Shinichi can’t.

“Nothing happened, Hattori.” Shinichi says instead. He straightens his expression, into something stern, something less amicable, something that says he doesn’t want to talk, not if it’s about this, not if it’s about anything but their case.

Hattori sees the barrier go up and blinks. His own expression turns sour and he says, “Sure, whatever.”

“If you want coffee,” Shinichi continues, “then there’s the breakroom. Or you can go on your own break.”

“Right,” Hattori bites, and Shinichi should feel guilty for lashing out, but he doesn’t.

All he can focus on is the taste of Ran against his lips, how tiny her voice had been as she’d said everything is okay and he can’t…

Shinichi doesn’t really want to think of anything else.

-

Perhaps it’s a testament to how much of a good guy Hattori is, but he doesn’t hold it against him. Hattori goes for his break and when he comes back, he’s leaving coffee at Shinichi’s desk, and offers a sympathetic shrug.

Shinichi cannot do much else but mutter a thanks and feel like more of a dick.

They work in silence for a while after that, wracking up hours, only really saying anything when Shinichi voices a theory, or when Hattori asks for clarification on a bit of evidence.

It’s almost the end of the work day when Shinichi says, “I shouldn’t have snapped at you.”

Hattori lifts his eyes from his monitor, stares at Shinichi and offers a half-hearted shrug. He says, “I knew you were a dick the minute we became friends. It’s alright.”

Alright, so he kind of deserved that. Shinichi’s not about to get offended by it. Instead, he sighs and looks back down to his monitor. He says, “I can’t think straight, so I think I’m gonna head home for the day.”

“Shouldn’t have even been here in th’ first place,” Hattori says. Then, “Yeah, I think it’s ‘bout time to call it a day, too. Want me t’ drive ya back?”

Shinichi shakes his head. He doesn’t want to go home, not really, not when he’ll only be left alone with his thoughts. He says, “I… I know we’ve just got work again tomorrow but, you want to stop for drinks before we head back?”

The Osakan sizes him up, takes a moment to consider the question and then offers a small nod. He says, “Somewhere we can eat, I’m starvin’.”

Shinichi supposes that’s reasonable. He’s not exactly eaten much today, either. “Sounds good.”

-

Hattori drives them. There’s a place, he says, nearby the hotel he’s staying in, so he drives them there in his rental and they walk the rest of the way.

They’re on their second beer, Shinichi still picking at his food, even though Hattori’s practically devoured his own in a manner of minutes, when the Osakan finally says, “So what’s eatin’ at ya?”

Shinichi doesn’t know if he wants to go into it, but Hattori is his best friend, and he’s also the kind of person who’ll keep nosing around until he gets an answer.

“Nothing,” Shinichi starts to say, and then, stopping himself, tries again: “I dunno, I just – Fucked things up, I guess. With Ran.”

He pushes more food around with his chopsticks, picks up a clump of rice and chews. It feels like he’s forcing himself to swallow.

“How’d ya manage that?” Hattori says.

Shinichi squirms in his seat, takes a large gulp of beer. Then, he gulps down another mouthful, wary of Hattori’s gaze on him. He sighs, “I may have – Well I – I kissed her, I guess.”

“Ya guess?”

Shinichi shrugs, because well, Hattori knows what he means. He finishes his beer, signals for another and looks down at his bowl. He pushes it away, clearly done with it.

“Okay, so ya kissed nee-chan…” Hattori’s obviously trying to figure out why this is such a bad thing. He’s always worn his heart on his sleeve, it’s how every argument between him and Kazuha managed to resolve itself. He’s never been scared to say what he wants. “I don’t see how this is a bad thing?”

Shinichi mumbles into his empty glass.

“What’s that?”

“Nothing,” he glances away, “doesn’t matter. Drop it Hattori.”

“No, really,” Hattori continues, “I don’t get it. You’ve been wanting to kiss her for years. Like – you’ve been in love with her for years, and now, ya finally kiss. And this is bad?”

The waitress replaces the empty glass with a filled one. Shinichi glares down at foam, at the beer beneath the frothy layer. He hates that he’s been wanting this for years, hates that he can’t move on, can’t think properly when Ran is around, and how now, he can’t think because she’s gone.

“Hattori–”

“Is it really all that bad?”

Shinichi’s voice wavers as he says, “It wasn’t exactly, erm, the right time. She wasn’t expecting it, I guess.”

Hattori watches him for a moment, weighs the words up and thinks it over. He’s quiet, abnormally so, as if trying to decipher the words and then, then, he finally seems to get it because his eyes cloud over ever so slightly and he says, “Oh.”

A half shrug is all Shinichi can offer him. He frowns into his beer and offers Hattori a short look that he hopes translates roughly into ‘what a fucking mess, right?’

“Do I uh,” – now, Hattori looks uncomfortable, uncertain – “on nee-chan’s behalf, do I need to punch you? Or something?”

Shinichi, who would rather not be punched, shakes his head ‘no’. Because while Hattori might be able to kick well, he can punch much better.

“I’m – no,” Shinichi shakes his head, “Ran reserves the right to that.”

He wishes Ran had hit him or gotten angry. Her voice, as tiny as it had been, sends chills down his spine, lingers with him more than any punch could.

“Maybe ya should talk it through with her,” Hattori says. The idea sounds reasonable, Shinichi knows it’s reasonable, but he doesn’t… No. He’s already broken down the wall, the hidden cell keeping all his wants for Ran hidden and now…

Now Shinichi wants.

He wants to be with Ran. He wants to please her, to take her out – he wants to be greedy and let his hands roam all over her. He wants every inch of her, wants to claim her as his, in a million different ways and…

He sighs.

“That,” Shinichi says, because he doesn’t exactly want to get into the myriad of reasons why he can’t be near Ran again, “is a smart idea.”

It’s just not one he’s going to take.

-

He doesn’t see Ran again, and it’s frustrating.

The week drags on, and Shinichi’s certain that she’s avoiding him just as much as he’s avoiding her. Which would be great, fine, except maybe Hattori’s sort of right. Maybe they should be talking about this.

Get the rejection, the dismissal over with and Shinichi can pretend that he’ll move on.

Shinichi throws himself into his work, not that it helps. He’s far too distracted, and everything seems to remind him of Ran. The station? Oh, he’s just imagining when she used to pick him up after cases. Murders? They used to frequent them together a lot.

Everything leads back to Ran, and it would be easier, if she was at the end of the rabbit trail.

The days go on, and Shinichi watches his phone to see if she’ll ever phone. She doesn’t, and soon the week is over with, and they have to start anew. There’s a tense radio silence with his best friend, and Shinichi has never felt more out of it.

It continues.

And just when it feels like it’s going to last forever, Sonoko returns from her honeymoon and their tension cracks again.

-

Shinichi doesn’t actually know that Sonoko’s back from her honeymoon until he’s answering his phone, half-asleep, from where he’s practically collapsed against his desk.

He jumps up, ignores Hattori’s small laugh – they’ve all been there, serial killer cases are rough – and grabs his phone.

He doesn’t even look at the caller id, simply presses answer and hopes that whatever phone call he’s receiving will be quick at least.

“What the fuck is wrong with you?” Sonoko asks, after a fairly sleepy ‘hello?’. Shinichi is mid-stretch when she asks, and his shoulder clicks as he brings it down.

“Welcome back to Tokyo, Sonoko.” Shinichi says in response, because how else is he supposed to answer? “Did you enjoy your honeymoon?”

Sonoko harrumphs on the other side of the phone, lets out a small hiss and says, “It was magnificent actually. Both Makoto and I had a brilliant time in Hawaii, those restaurants you suggested, begrudgingly, I admit they were lovely. Past that, what the fuck is wrong with you?”

Ah, so eloquent.

“You know,” Shinichi says, “some people say that those who swear only have little vocabularies.”

“Shinichi,” Sonoko says, voice low, “if you keep pushing me, I will strangle you.”

He doesn’t doubt it. Not that he thinks Sonoko would actually succeed in strangling him, but well – the intent is there at least.

“Is this about Ran?” He sighs.

“Of course, it’s–” He can practically see the way she pinches the bridge of her nose. “You’ve done something, and I swear, I’ll strangle you if you don’t tell me what you’ve done to–”

“Jeez,” Shinichi huffs, “Sonoko, chill out.”

By the sound of her indignant spluttering, his words don’t exactly do much to help her calm down. If anything, they frustrate her more. Shinichi can practically hear the gritting of her teeth.

“Just tell me what you did,” Sonoko says.

He considers briefly telling Sonoko to butt out, but it’s Sonoko. Firstly, she’ll never back off when it’s including Ran, the two have always considered each other sisters. Secondly, Sonoko is too stubborn to just drop an issue when it’s right in front of her.

“Nothing,” Shinichi says. He stumbles over the word, and of course Sonoko picks up on it, she’s not stupid, she’s a business woman, trained to pick up on people’s reactions and work them to her own ideals.

“Shinichi, I swear–”

“Ugh, fine. We may have, uh,” – he avoids Hattori at the other desk – “kissed. It was stupid, I won’t do it again.”

Sonoko huffs on the other side. She’s not satisfied with his answer.

“We’re going to talk about this,” Sonoko says. “Six o’clock. I’ll send you the address in a minute. If you don’t show up, I’ll get Makoto to hunt you down.”

Shinichi groans, but minutes later, when he receives a text message with the address, he figures out the route there.

It seems there’s no reason for him to stay late at the station now.

-

Shinichi makes it to the restaurant with seconds to spare. He’s not late, but he’s not early like he’d wanted to be. Still, he wanders inside, feels underdressed in his work clothes and glances around for Sonoko.

He can’t see her – she must be sat upstairs instead.

“Can I help you?” A waiter asks, popping up from nowhere. Shinichi rattles off Sonoko’s name, states she’s the one who’s reserved their table and within a few seconds, the waiter nods, pointing to the next floor.

He leads Shinichi up the stairs and towards a table by the window outside. A table, where Sonoko is most certainly not sat.

Shinichi freezes.

Ran turns at the sound of footsteps heading towards the table, blinks as she notices Shinichi. Then, she flushes a bright red, something that Shinichi would take enjoyment in, if things weren’t so tense, if his cheeks weren’t the same colour.

“You’re not Sonoko,” Shinichi says.

“No.” Ran takes a moment to look down at her phone, as if wondering whether it will light up and explain the situation. “Oh, I can’t believe her.”

Shinichi squirms at the exasperation. Then, he says, “Well, I’m – yeah, just gonna–”

He wants to turn away, to run and leave but his feet are like concrete. Because, really, that’s not what he wants to do at all.

Shinichi wants to sit down and have dinner. He wants to listen to Ran tell him about her day, wants to hear her every interest, to listen to whatever secrets she wants to share.

He wants to take her hand across the table, wants to brush her hair out of her face, loop it behind her ear.

Shinichi realises he’s selfish, all he does is want.

“Oh jeez – don’t just stand there,” Ran sighs. The exasperation is back, “Sit down Shinichi, we need to – we obviously need to talk.”

Obviously.

Yes, this is a conversation Shinichi has been dreading.

“Right,” Shinichi says, stiffening up, and moving towards the chair opposite Ran as if he’s a marionette. He sits, pulls his chair in and waits. He opens his mouth to say something, but the waiter seems to appear before he can get into the crux of why they’re here.

“Can I get any drinks for you?” The waiter asks.

Ran seems to send him a look that says he should go first. So, Shinichi does the first thing he thinks of, looks up at the waiter, and says, “A glass of wine. Red.”

Ran lets out a visible sigh of relief. She says, “I’ll have the same.”

Fuck it, Shinichi thinks, why not make it a bottle?

He says as such to the waiter. Ran looks positively scandalised, as if Shinichi acting weird is so outside the norm. It’s almost as if she’s forgotten how his acting weird got them into this situation in the first place.

“A bottle of wine got us into this,” Shinichi mutters after a second, “might as well see if it can’t get us out of it.”

-

They order before the break into the conversation. It’s the only time Ran gives him to prepare, and it’s not nearly long enough.

“The other day,” she starts, “when you – when we…”

Kissed, Shinichi wants to say. When you made me feel complete.

“Yeah,” he says instead, like the amazing wordsmith he is.

“I don’t… you never implied… Shinichi, what was that meant to mean?” Ran says. “You don’t just kiss people in the street.”

Shinichi wants to argue that they were having a moment, or that it wasn’t people in the street, just Ran, only Ran, but it seems like a moot point. Like he’s just grappling for excuses.

“I know,” Shinichi says. He swirls the wine in his glass, stares at it, remembers the way it had stained Ran’s lips and closes his eyes. He’s not sure what his expression must be, but when he glances back to Ran, she’s frowning.

He supposes that maybe he looked pained. As if he was remembering something he didn’t want to.

“Do you,” Ran asks, “because I don’t. I don’t know Shinichi, and I just – if you do, then, God, can’t you explain this to me, because I’ve never been more confused.”

More wine. Shinichi says, “There’s only one explanation Ran, it’s not difficult to figure it out.”

Ran’s eyes widen. It’s as if he’s watching the neurons fire the realisation through her mind, synapses jittery as they scream, finally, that Shinichi is – and always has been – inexcusably in love with her.

“But you’ve never… You never indicated that you were interested, Shinichi.”

Or maybe not.

Shinichi squints, tries to release the tension in his shoulders. It’s impossible, the muscle is taut, aching. He says, “I literally… Ran, I confessed to you in London.”

Ran flushes red again. Then, she says, “You showed interest once, and that was… Shinichi, that was seven years ago.”

Admittedly, Shinichi shouldn’t be expecting the same confession from years before to apply now, but it does. His feelings haven’t changed, so the confession still stands.

“You never responded to it, so I left it.” Shinichi tears his gaze from her to his wine glass, swishes it around to watch something rather than her. “It doesn’t matter, I get it. I shouldn’t have–”

“It’s been years, how was I supposed to know the confession was still…” she lets out a strangled noise, as if she can’t find the words she’s after, “…in effect.”

“I dunno,” Shinichi mumbles, “but it is. Sorry if that’s awkward for you.”

Ran kicks him under the table. He barely feels it, and part of him registers that it’s not a violent one, but rather one that’s designed to capture his attention. It’s almost playful, but he doesn’t let himself admit to that.

“You’re such an idiot,” Ran sighs. “Why didn’t you just say? I would have said yes.”

Shinichi hardly registers the second half. It’s almost as if his brain can’t comprehend the idea of having his feelings returned and so he focuses on the first part of her words.

“Why didn’t I say?” Shinichi echoes. “Why couldn’t you have just responded? I confessed and you never answered me at all.”

Ran frowns. She says, “You’re blaming me?”

“Well, it’s not my fault.”

“Why are you being so defensive,” Ran hisses, “I just said I liked you, you fucking nerd.”

Shinichi pauses.

He takes a moment to consider her words and says, under his breath, “Oh.”

Then, he squirms in his seat again because fuck, now he has an answer, and it’s almost like he’s been given permission to want what he does.

Ran lets out a small laugh, as if she enjoys watching him realise. And then, she blushes, overwhelmed because Shinichi throws his best smile her way, overjoyed.

“So, I–” He pauses, tries to think about how to say it without sounding like a dorky teenager. He wants to sound like the adult he is. “So, I guess we… do we – Fuck, I don’t want to sound like a teenager.”

Ran rolls her eyes. Something about the way she shakes her head at him screams that he’s doomed to fall into the role anyway.

“A date,” Shinichi says finally, “let me take you on a date.”

Ran’s gaze flickers around the restaurant. She purses her lips and raises a hand, as if to say, ‘why else are we here?’

He scowls, “One that doesn’t exist because Sonoko likes to meddle. Let me take you on a… a date. An official one.”

Ran dips her head into a nod. She says, “alright.”

-

They keep drinking the wine.

This time, Shinichi doesn’t feel so guilty about letting his gaze linger on Ran’s lips when it stains her lips. He considers leaning forward, kissing her, running his tongue against her lips, tasting the mix of Ran and the wine, but they’re in public.

He shouldn’t.

But still, he wants to.

-

“I’ve got more wine,” Ran says at the end of their meal, once they’ve paid the bill. They’re heading toward the subway station, and Shinichi wants to lean over and grab her hand, but still, he’s hesitant. “If you want to…”

They head down the stairs towards their train, and the station seems… dead. It lacks any form of life but them, and the random stragglers at the other end of the platform.

Shinichi reaches forward, takes Ran’s hand and pulls her towards him. He stares down at the bridge of her nose, smiles and breathes, “yeah?”

“If you want to, uh–”

“I can go for more wine,” Shinichi says, since she’s bright red. He pauses, gaze flickering from her nose, to her lips, then back up to her eyes. “Can I...?”

Ran offers a small smile, and instead of saying anything, tiptoes up to face him, bringing a hand up and weaving it through his hair, pulling him down to her. Shinichi wraps an arm around her waist, pulls her closer and smiles against her lips.

The sound of the train behind in his ears sounds almost distant, far away. He supposes that maybe they should be turning, boarding the train before it leaves, but Shinichi is too wrapped up in Ran to even consider moving.

It’s alright, Shinichi thinks, they can always catch the next one.

------

(A side note: If you’re not the type for mature content. This is where the fic ends! If not: [Part Three])

[triumphorce]

I write.

I express emotions.

I ain’t a poet tho..

I subside to lies

Of iambic holds

Now I’m a poet.

I don’t rhyme..

Now that’s cool.

I’m a poet.

I abide by strict lines..

I keep thinking…that..

Never no mind it.

I’m a poet now

Like, phew..

Finally.

I try haikus

hell yeaaaa

I’m rollin now

super duper

cultural guru

try this, try that..

I fail this and that don’t feel right

Thinkin’..life..

You can’t get that back.

No second chance..

I’m getting anxious.

and I wonder why..

I feel I’m digging my own grave

So I..

Implement myself..

I take me off the shelves.

Uh..um.

Okay Clave.

Be careful, now..

I hear a voice call out.

Somewhere, out ther-

Be careful.

Okay. Stick to theme.

Oh no, I’ve clearly lost it!

I mean.

Yo ellanore,

I mean Dear lenore

I feel empty, evermore.

I see dreams deferred.

Ravens pick at a corpse.

Along a road I walk,

One less traveled by..

To get told to fall behind.

I dwell in possibilities,

Like am I poet and

They just don’t know it..

I look in awe to false realities.

The intensity builds.

Time closes.

The barriers lower.

Dead space opens.

Why’s frozen..

Finally free..

As the time approaches,

For me to switch from quiet..

Dead Poets looking more alive than me..

Shit, I need help then

shit, I gotta write twice as much, work twice as hard

fly twice as high & plan to fall just as far.

waitin like a car alarm

anticipating antipathy..

Protectin art in hearts

Takin timid out intimidate

show em choice has always been innate..

No less a given right at birth

than the right to live,

right to breathe,

is the right to dream

To express as you see fit

In any way, until you wish to change,

so I protect that right

stand next to kindness

on the other side, a pride of lions

protectin myself from

Myself,

And hateful beings.

Fusion held in spheres

By doubt and fear

To excel;

Where fails spawn

According to myself..

Yea’..

I’m ill a li'l..

Lonely soul..

But I only grow..

And sometimes..

Not even the gravity

Of situations can keep control

of a mind lost to chaos

seeking truth to trust aggressively

I think I lust the fight, the thrill to must will

Solar flares breaking molds of what I past wrote,

Of mostly every past goal.

Into empty space.

On empty pages.

All that Potential

Just sittin there..

While I kneel here..

I gotta get it..

just get to it..

So I’m always reachin

Till my arm strong

And fingers feel,

hold, clutch hope..

Till light of mind touch the most

constant growth from constant writing

As long as I continue forward..

then I’m straight with

As long as what’s unexplored

ain’t unignored..

then I’m all on board

all over keyboards to express how much I don’t know

what’s unknown, what’s original, what becomes of anything done…

and other shit to make me sound not dumb..

just make sure that

.. I

don’t go too far..

or collapse it all,

under pressures of tomorrows

or become an addict to syntax

quick fix of lyrics any and every chance presented

while I’m lookin in the mirror.

In my eyes.

Seein lines.

Write like I created a language

To explain myself,

What the hell amongst Stars

This Fox is quite troubled

And says a lot..

Types a lot,

The type to

Open mouth

And open fire.

Twin lasers..

Bluest Light Burning Brightest..

Usin boosts

bustin’ somersaults..

Lost

In

Turns

And

Twists.

Evermore

Forever more.

More and more clever

More clever than Athena,

Than Apollo

than Shinichi

As I…

set the stage.

tell Dionysus to take a seat

pllleeease..

jeeezzz

I don’t neeeeed

an Encore..

I’m an Enclave to Darkness.

Where approval is

Non-contingent

Just sharpening Wit

On metaphysical stones

Of aureole revolving my dome..

Create a cleaver to make separate hate..

Cut out all this critic shit,

And involvement of Art in competition..

I know there’s no fault to pin..

Except on them..

-Points at Ego and Tradition-

-Then checks his Watch-

Like -sigh- oh look

Hey,

It’s time to go.

So..

Please Allow that to seep through

Your cerebral

Shield

Woo!

Yo, Hold up Clave..

What the hell?

You was doin’ good..

But how I feel?

Like I wish I would..

Wish I would hold back how I feel..

The injustice, it kills.

And how that feel?

Like I filled

My mind..

While digging to find it..

But I’m doin’ just fine

An..

Ace of Spades..

Laid up, doin well

King of all trades..

People’s champion..

Jacks that I chose to slay

Inside my tact to

Protect the truth..

And expose the Knaves.

For all those who feel unimpressive..

If there’s any..If my message has any direction..

I hope that it’s this one..

To help and to lift up..

To challenge those meddling with medals

And digital pins to address the issue that they misuse the pen.

Which

Is stronger than steel..

So how you think the damage deals?

How it feels..

Well..

Just observe me make it right..

Watch me make it heal.

Jot the Skills.

I dream into Nil

To return with

The man behind the curtain..

Playing off insecurities

Keeping people fighting uncertainty..

And makes them feel as if fate’s a jury..

Shit’s a journey.

A learning process.

I am certain.

Especially when I write..

Wait..

When we write;

We write to express.

We write in context of purpose.

Not in contest, to be worthy.

Worth..

Is subjective to concerns.

Don’t ever let others blur theirs with yours

Me.

I just stay on reserve

In A universe of verses..

Already purgin what I feel

Don’t deserve a further look

Already workin

On ways to improve

What I believe is amiss..

I write.

We write to prove this.

Nothing circumstantial.

This is for We.

We is of anyone

Who see we as progression

And not as steps up..

An ascension of Love

And trusting someone.

But

That takes we..

In an effort

To make effortless

The will to stand and help stand up..

And then some..

And this is to anyone..

Anywhere, anywhen.

Message in a bottle.

This to whoever.

From yours truly.

I write for peace.

Excuse the Teeth.

And you know what?

I’m startin to see

I will never be

Done.

Only gone for a moment

To seize everyday moments.

This ain’t over..

Just an Ocean.

Go Explore.

fin

[moondropcavernsanctuary]

Forgotten Memories || ???

As you fall asleep that night you more or less expect it this time.

The mix of dream and memory, the feeling of the sun's warm rays against your cheek as you gaze out the window, and the shifting of scenery until you find yourself back at HPA once more. Back inside that all too familiar classroom, friends and peers alike all chatting around you.

Out of the corner of your eye you see Shinichi Kanemoto poking his head into another conversation, a small smile on his face as he chatted to your peers. He was always so friendly, wasn't he? Always joining in on the conversation and making small talk with others. Even if someone was sitting by themselves Shinichi would always go out of his way to find them and ask if they wanted company, never wanting anyone to be alone unless they wanted to be. Whenever he wasn't with people you recall seeing Shinichi in the art room, busy on his latest art project. It didn't matter if it was a school assignment or not, the artist was always busy working on his next creation.

As you look away from him your attention is caught by Psalm B, or Lauren Romero as you recently learned, spouting some creepy facts with an almost unsettling enthusiasm. Psalm was always a little weird and standing strange things, but she was friendly enough that you didn't mind her odd quirks or mannerisms. You recall how she always brought food to share with everyone and would even teach them science tricks occasionally. And despite how ditzy she seemed you know she was always focused on school. Whenever she wasn't talking to people or saying ominous words she had her nose buried in an advanced chemistry book. Looks could be quite deceiving, couldn't they?

But as happy and peaceful as these memories are- they're just that. Memories. Because even within the realms of your dreams you know that Shinichi and Lauren are dead and gone, never to come back and create anymore happy memories with you all. Perhaps it's the painful realization of it all that twists your dream around. Causing it's shape to shift and contort into something else entirely.

Whatever the case may be, you're brought back to a day you had nearly forgotten...

Your first day back at school.

Summer break had come and gone. Now it was time for the new semester. You start to remember it more precisely now. This time the details were clear as day: the gossiping students, the early birds chirping outside, the squeak of shoes against well polished floors, it was just like any other day at HPA.

Everyone was sitting down in their seats, and Miss Bellerose had just begun her welcome back speech when it happened.

A blood curdling scream.

Jolting at the sound- all of you turned your attention towards the windows. You swear you could hear Bellerose trying to calm you as everyone gathered by the windows to see what was going on. Looking down at the courtyard you all saw a horrific sight. Blood splattering the ground as students attacked one another, both main course and reserve course alike. Their movements were almost inhuman, the smiles on their faces sent shivers down your spine.

Soon, you realized, it wasn't just them. There was panicked shouting coming from the hallway. You could hear footsteps running down the hall before they were cut silent by a pained cry and the sound of something wet dripping to the ground.

Whatever was happening it wasn't safe for you here anymore. You had to get out of here.

But before anyone could react the door to the classroom suddenly slid open. Everything was so fast you barely had time to register it all. But you remember the sound of something metal clattering to the ground echoed through the room before the door slammed shut. On the floor there small canister steadily letting out a smokey white gas into the room.

Everyone went into a panic.

Fearing the worst people immediately went for the doors to try and escape- but they wouldn't budge. Some even tried the windows before realizing they too were jammed shut. You were stuck. As panic and dread started to settle, the sounds of screaming still ringing in your ears, you began to feel tired. Limbs became heavy and movements sluggish as you realized all too late that the gas filling the room was doing this to you.

As you hit the floor, consciousness just barely hanging on, you watched as your classmates went motionless. Falling succumb to the sleep that was weighing heavy on your eyes.

...

And then you awoke was in the cavern.