School. It's just… school. We go, we goof off with friends, we study, and then we go home. I don't hate it, but I don't enjoy it either. At least there's my friends. That's something.
11th grade is supposed to be all about studying, but I can't find the point. Calculus, formulas, memorization… will any of it ever matter? I'm still figuring out what I want to do, but I know for certain that most of this won't help me. Am I meant to waste my life buried in books that never end? I'll do what's necessary, and no more. And sadly, what's necessary is showing up in the first place.
My feet drag across the pavement leading to school. The wind brushes my face, bold and cold, but underneath it, there's warmth—like a little spark waking something I can't quite name. I lean into it, letting it sweep away some of the heaviness I carry every morning.
"Hey, Akio!"
Reden. My friend. He was a decently nice guy, I care about him.
"Yo, you coming too?"
I nod, trying to match his energy. He doesn't notice the weight clinging to me—the fatigue of every day, every calculation, every pointless question I carry like a stone in my chest. He never would. And that's fine.
We walk together. The chatter, the laughter, it's easy and warm. It doesn't fix anything, not really. But for now… it's enough.
"Hey, Akio!"
Zeref. Another one of my closest friends, right alongside Reden. He's about my height, black hair, pale skin, always a little quieter than Reden, but sharp in ways I sometimes forget to notice.
"Yo," I reply, my voice casual. He doesn't seem to care that I'm distracted, or maybe he's used to it by now. That's fine.
We fall into step together, three of us walking toward the school gates. Reden's joking about something ridiculous, probably about the teacher who fell asleep in class last week. Zeref laughs quietly beside him, and I can't help but smirk a little. It's stupid, and small, and maybe that's why it's worth noticing. You know, small things that can distract me from everything else.
School. The building looms ahead, a gray slab of concrete and glass. Inside, there'll be lectures I barely follow, formulas that blur together, assignments that feel meaningless. I've tried to care about some of it. I've tried to convince myself that understanding calculus or memorizing biology terms will make me someone who matters. But the truth is… it doesn't. Not really.
And yet, I keep going. Every day. Because not going is worse. Being invisible to my own life terrifies me more than failure ever could.
Reden bumps my shoulder, teasing me about spacing out. "Wake up, I can't stand getting lower marks than a fool that sleeps in class." He says.
"Yeah, yeah," I mutter, shaking my head and smiling faintly. I watch my friends ahead of me, Reden, kind yet careless, Zeref, kind yet intimidating. They make this place bearable. They make me bearable, at least for a little while.
I glance at them and think, maybe that's enough.
The bell rings, shrill and impatient. Students funnel into classrooms, laughter and chatter mixing with the scrape of shoes against tile. I follow, head down, backpack slung over one shoulder. My thoughts drift, as always, calculations, formulas, questions I don't know how to answer. But for a moment, walking beside my friends, I feel something simple, present. Something like… belonging.
It's fleeting. It will fade once the lectures start, once the monotony resumes. But I hold onto it anyway. A small, fragile spark to get me through another day. Though even this has a limit.