#perhaps it's just the sudden discovery but it still doesn't feel real

[funamblrist]

yukihiro takahashi died?? in janurary?? and i only find this out tonight? talk about a reality check... :-(

[prompt-master]

It's too early. The good-morning announcement is playing, loud and harsh on your still-awakening ears. You're the first one up. The halls are empty, none of the doors show any signs of moving, and the air feels stale. Alien, even. It's cold too. Chilly. You wonder what time of year it is in the outside world.

You head to the dining hall. It, too, is empty. Barren, like an old town from some obscure spaghetti western. The massive room is almost intimidating as you walk through it. Like you're walking toward your doom. Like the ceiling is just waiting to collapse, or the doors are about to shut and never open. You shiver, out of cold or out of unease you don't know.

You shake off the feeling. Every room in the school has that feel to it, what with all the cameras and iron plates over the windows. Nobody here has any real privacy.

You gently push open the kitchen doors, mind still trudging along with thoughts and questions. It's too early to be thinking about those kinds of things. Perhaps breakfast would cost things up.

And then you see it.

No wonder the unease chose today to pop up.

The same person known for making the most outlandish theories by the minute.

The same person who's identity was never truly exposed, even refusing to reveal something as simple as pronouns.

The same person, who just hours ago, called you a pussy for getting worried about poison in your food.

Lying face up in a pool of their own red-stained sick.

One hand on their throat, a half-eaten sandwich clutched in the other, dried blood and vomit dribbling from their lips.

Their eyes are wide, tearful, and glassy, the ghost of their final gasp still frozen on their face. If you stood just a few inches more to the right, they would be looking right at you.

Dead.

You have a surprisingly lax reaction, considering the state of things. Perhaps it's because you never really knew them.

Perhaps it's because you have no real reason to feel any pity. Perhaps it's because the victim is nothing. They werent much of a person to begin with. All costumed feelings, hidden names, and hoards of secrets, tied up in an obscure past denser than the thickest fog. A person who, in the eyes of the masses, doesn't exist.

You don't scream. You don't even flinch. You just stand and stare.

Yep. It's unmistakable.

The enigma known as 'Prom' is dead.

Someone behind you clicks their tongue in disappointment. You flinch at the sudden sound, but relax when you turn and see a familiar face. The detective, aloof and emotionless as always, seemingly unsurprised by the tragedy before them.

Someone else enters the room behind them, and the two of you part so they can get a good look. The new person gasps, one rise in pitch away from a scream, and runs off to fetch the others. You and the detective turn back to the body.

"Death by grilled cheese." The detective says, shaking their head as the cheerful body discovery announcement crackles around you. "Not the most honorable way to go."

You can't help but agree.

I'm going to fucking die at the way you describe me as if I'm some sort of intangible character that slipped between your fingers. A character you wished you could have bonded with but would never get the oppurtunity. Incredible. My vibes are so hot.