Stoic

"Here, I'll hold this for you," Umire said as they approached the teacher's office, already slipping Lena's bag off her shoulder before she could respond. " I'll be right out here waiting for you." She leaned casually against the wall beside the door, already settling in to wait for her.

"Okay!" Lena called out. She immediately noticed how loud her voice had been—too loud, too eager—but oddly enough, the usual flush of embarrassment didn't follow. Umire gave her a casual wave and pulled out her phone just as Lena slid open the door to the teachers' office.

There were about four rows of long desks, each one sectioned off by thin dividers. A few teachers sat scattered among them, heads down, focused on their work. The one closest to the door gave Lena a brief nod before returning to whatever they were scribbling.

Lena hesitated for a moment, her eyes scanning the room uncertainly as she awkwardly peeked her head around desks, trying to spot Mr. Yon. A few teachers glanced up, their eyes briefly flicking toward her as they took notice.

"Oh, Lena, over here," his familiar voice called out from the middle row, near the far end of the table.

Relief washed over her at not having to stand awkwardly by herself anymore. She quickly made her way toward him, tension in her shoulders easing just a bit.

"Hi, Mr. Yon," Lena said as she came to a stop in front of his desk. 

"Lena," he greeted, glancing up at her. "I noticed you were late to class today. Is everything alright?"

So Umire was right, Lena thought, sighing inwardly. She just hoped the lecture wouldn't drag on.

Around them, a few teachers peeked over the dividers or casually turned in their seats, subtly tuning in.

"I'm sorry," Lena said. "It took me a while to get here, and I overslept."

Mr. Yon studied her for a moment. She stared at everything except his face, eyes darting to the floor, to the papers on his desk—anywhere but his eyes—as she picked nervously at the skin beside her thumb.

"It's alright," he said at last. "I'll let it go this time. But if it happens again, there'll have to be consequences."

Relief bloomed in her chest. That was it?

But just as the tension began to ease, he spoke again.

"Have you been adjusting well? Made any friends?"

"Uh… I've been doing fine," Lena mumbled, already wishing the conversation was over.

"I saw you with Umire earlier," he added with a knowing tone. "Has the class president been looking after you? I hear you two study together."

Lena stiffened. Yuna's words from earlier flashed in her mind –"Did the teacher tell you to be friends with her or something?" and a dull ache bloomed in her chest.

"Yes. I'm fine," she repeated, more hollow this time.

Was that all this was? A favor from a teacher? No one casually offered friendship like Umire did… unless they were told to. She felt unbelievably stupid for letting herself believe otherwise. A bitter feeling began clinging to her stomach, her chest tightening.

"I know you live a bit farther out," Mr. Yon continued, his voice gentler now. "I won't question your choice of school. I don't know all the details, but I've been told about the basics of your situation. How are you adjusting overall?"

Lena's stomach dropped, the clenching in her chest growing tighter.

So he knew.

Of course, he did. She transferred in the middle of the school year, so it made sense that the staff knew about her situation.

Still, the thought of it being out there, of people knowing, made her want to disappear. The memory of blurred faces and the disgusted looks from her old classmates hit her like a wave. Her chest squeezed tight, and the urge to vomit swelled.

"Are you okay?" Mr. Yon asked, concern evident in his voice.

His voice barely registered. Her head spun, thoughts roaring loudly, too fast and incoherent to grasp on to but still evidently present. The buzzing in her ears grew louder.

"I'm fine... I just feel a little sick," Lena muttered, her hand clamped tightly over her mouth. The pressure in her chest surged, sharp and overwhelming, as if something inside her was trying to claw its way out, ripping out her insides in the process.

She needed her pills.

Now.

"I see…" Mr. Yon hesitated, watching her with furrowed brows. "Alright. You can go—you really don't look well. Make sure to get some rest."

Lena nodded dimly before trudging away, forcing herself past the rows of desks.

The teachers who had been eavesdropping earlier were already back to their work—or at least pretending to be—but Lena couldn't shake the image of them whispering about her behind her back.

How many of them knew?

Her stomach churned even harder at the thought.

She imagined them talking about how weird she was in private. So awkward, pathetic, and dumb…they probably felt great sympathy towards her parents for giving birth to such a worthless daughter and even greater misery for themselves for now having her in their school. She didn't blame them…she felt guilty enough towards her mother already.

Reaching the door, she slid it open and stepped out, relief failing to come as she finally escaped the room. Her legs felt weak beneath her as she shakily closed the door behind her.

 She had to get to her pills. Now.

"Lena, you're back!" Umire chirped, slipping her phone into her pocket and pushing off the wall. "Huh? Are you okay? You don't look too good…"

Lena looked up at her, her eyes glassy, her chest rising unevenly with each labored breath. It was getting harder—so much harder—to draw in air. Her body seemed to forget how to breathe, as though it had stopped obeying its own instinct.

In... and out.

In... and—

Her body refused to listen, each breath a battle she was losing.

"I-I'm fine," she gasped, her voice thin as she staggered toward the wall, using it to steady herself. "M-My bag…"

She pointed weakly at the bag slung over Umire's shoulder.

"Oh. Right…here." Umire handed it over.

Lena's fingers fumbled with the zipper. Her breaths were sharp and quick, each one scraping painfully in her lungs. Her hands dug through the clutter inside until—finally—she felt the familiar shape of the pill case.

"Hey... are you okay?" Umire asked again, her voice laced with concern, but something about it felt almost... mechanical.

Lena didn't respond. She pulled the pill case free, popping it open with trembling hands. She took one out—but froze.

No water.

The thought barely formed before a plastic bottle was pressed into her hand.

"Here," Umire said. Her voice was oddly calm, sounding almost distant, the previous concerned tone seeming to fade. The bottle was already opened, half drunken.

Lena downed the pill, chasing it with the lukewarm water, then sagged against the wall again, catching her breath. Her chest still ached, but the pressure was starting to ease. Slowly. Gradually. Enough that she could think again.

She exhaled shakily, tilting her head back. When she finally opened her eyes, she froze. Umire was beside her, leaning against the wall, watching her.

Not with concern.

Not with confusion.

Just watching.