#subterdrabbles

Yes, the sky was greyer than normal, and they were bundled up in sweaters and coats and what-have-you, and every breath they let out turned to mist before their eyes. But nothing else was affected.

"What’s so great about putting words on a paper? Who even cares! I could write before going into kindergarten!"

"Well, anyone with even half a brain could just wiggle their thumb!"

There it was again. The classic debate over “who had the worse talent”. Not even whose was better—no, it was all about the negatives this time. The same way it was every other time.

Before Hayashi could come up with a clever retort (no doubt containing the word “idiot”), the boys were faced with a new obstacle: ice. Nothing obvious, of course, but that was exactly why it was a problem in the first place.

One wrong step, one hand flashing out, and one scarf being grabbed, dragging the wearer down, ended with them sprawled across the sidewalk. The conversation quickly shifted to whose fault it “obviously” was, each one of them raising very compelling arguments regarding the other’s intelligence—or rather, lack of which. 

The dial tone stopped. “Hi, you’ve reached Suzuki Hayate, and this is an unfamiliar number, so I would like you to kindly remove your phone from your ear, pitch it in a fucking river, and never attempt to contact me again.”

"Aha, got you, finally!"

"What the—what the fuck, how did you get this? Which one of my acquaintances do I have to waterboard for the next ten hours, dead-eyed and constantly droning like a retail zombie ‘this hurts me more than it hurts you’? Because my schedule is obviously filled with spiderwebs until the conceivable end of spacetime. I want nothing more than to mash my ear into this useless piece of wiring until you end up doing a complete personality one-eighty and ending up as a nun in Guatemala out of total soul-deep fulfillment."

"Not important! No, seriously, stop talking. I need you to tutor me in anatomy, and that’s definitely not an innuendo, okay? You’re the guy for the science stuff, right?"

"Have you been bludgeoned repeatedly in the head recently? I mean it, can you remember what your birthday is?"

"I’ll take that as a yes! Be over in ten!"

She never held any ire toward him. Pity, maybe, for that whole Alice debacle—you whack someone with a crowbar a few times and they fall for you before trying to frame you for murder, who knew—but never ire. Which was why she wasn’t entirely sure why her hands were shaking.

"You were…actually serious."

"You sound surprised."

Hana chugs down a drink, coughing once the glass leaves his lips.

"Jesus Christ, you really suck at this."

Hana wiped his mouth sheepishly. “S-Sorry, Suzuki-san…”

"Do you ever quit with the whole "meaningless apology" thing or do those words flood from your abnormally shaped mouth naturally?"

"U-Um…"

"I have to research this. This could be a medical breakthrough. Even better than my last case, ‘Is Miyamoto an asshole out of choice, or was his face, in a freak accident, replaced with an anus?’."

Hana is driving to work. It’s very early, earlier than normal, and he can hardly focus on the road. He really shouldn’t drive in this condition, but he has to get to work…. He lets out a yawn, closing his eyes for a second.

Only a second, he swears.

There’s a loud thump and Hana’s car lurches violently, drawing a yelp from his throat. What was that?!

He slams on the brakes, flinging himself out of his car and running to the back of it to find-

Oh my god. Oh my god.

Laying on the ground, covered in blood, is his former classmate, Haino-san.

Hana drops to her side, huffing panicked breaths. “H-Haino-san, oh my god…. I-I’m….” He doesn’t know what to say. He tears his cell phone from his pocket.

119, what’s your emergency?

"I-I, I hit someone w-with my car I-I only closed my eyes for a s-second I-I-"

Sir, please calm down. Give us your location.

Hana stuttered out the street name, tears rolling down his face.

The paramedics are on their way.

Hana stares down at her, covering his mouth with one shaking hand.