Chapter Text
The bell rang, signifying the end of class. Some kids stood behind to catch up with friends, while others were among the crowd heading to the cafeteria. Nakamura was neither, opting to instead roam the halls for a bit. He was a shy boy, only talking to a select few people in his class. One of them includes a boy he’s longed to talk to since the entrance ceremony their first year, Hirose.
The times when they’re able to talk one-on-one are few and far between, but are treasured deeply all the same. The memory of Hirose declaring they were already friends was seared into his brain; the photo of the moment, which both he and Hirose have a copy of, further cemented it as an unforgettable moment.
‘I should ask Kawamura to draw Hirose and me again,’ he thought with a dopey smile on his face.
Speaking of, where’d he put the most recent comic she made for him?
“Uh…” he nervously patted himself down, finding nothing.
‘Where’d I put it?’ Just last class, he was sneaking peeks at it, missing a majority of the lesson. That means it must be-
He froze and got so ghostly pale that if anyone saw him, they’d surely think he was the undead.
It was on his desk, unguarded and susceptible to onlookers.
He did a quick 180, running back to his class. Multiple scenarios ran through his head, all varying degrees of horrifying. What if one of his classmates found it and used it as blackmail? Or worse- show Hirose! Oh god, what if Mr. Otogiri noticed someone left their book behind, then read it and is reporting it right this very second-
His shoes squeaked irritatingly as he skidded to a stop. Opening the door cautiously, he let out a breath. It was empty. He looked around twice just to make sure, before bolting to his desk. The book was right where he’d left it; pristine and beautiful.
“Thank god,” his body sagged in his chair, the residual stress slowly leaving his body.
The only person who knows about his crush is Kawamura, and that’s only because she’s his personal yaoi supplier. He doesn’t know what he’d do if he were simultaneously outed AND Hirose found out about his feelings.
‘Just thinking about it has my heart racing…’ he smiled bitterly.
He’s happy he’s managed to become Hirose’s friend after all this time. The boy is the kindest person he’s met, and the fact that Hirose even glanced at himis a blessing.
It's just…
Nakamura can’t even bring himself to try to woo Hirose. He’s not good-looking and charming like Hirose’s friend from junior high, Matsumura, or able to talk to him daily like Oomori. He sees Hirose in all his glory, and it’s as if his brain slips out of his ears. He’s just Nakamura, the awkward classmate who struggles with something as simple as saying good morning to his crush. Every time he tries to do more, he either chickens out or it all goes wrong.
“It’s like the universe is telling me to give up,” he groaned, burying his face in his hands.
Thump thump!
“…An earthquake?”
His desk rattled violently, and it all cascaded from there.
The stomping of feet, the clatter of trays, and unidentifiable thumps vibrated under his feet. Not far in its wake, the screams began. They varied in tone, some shrill, some deep. But the common message was clear: fear. The sheer scale and overwhelm of his senses gave him little respite to think of its cause.
Chills ran down his back, his body almost trembling in its seat. Like his entire soul was shaken, instinctively knowing this was the beginning of the end.
—------------------
Hirose stared up at the clock, begging the time to pass faster. ‘Five, ten, fifteen, twenty…’ he calculated the time, ‘Aw man, we have twenty minutes before lunch!’ His stomach growled, making him blush in embarrassment.
‘Hope no one heard that.’ He sank his head onto his desk in defeat.
A disturbing gargle echoed through the classroom, and for a horrifying second, he’d thought it had been his stomach again.
“Takeuchi, are you okay?” Mr. Otogiri asked, making Hirose turn around in his seat.
“I-” Takuechi gagged, “Can I go to the nurse?”
Otogiri frowned in concern. “Oomori and Hirose, can you bring him to the nurse’s office?”
They both nod, having expected the request as the nurse’s aids. They hurry to help Takuechi onto his feet. Murmurs escape the confines of the classroom as the pair of three rush out the room.
“Slow down,” Takuechi groaned, face pinched in pain. His complexion was sickly pale, and Hirose couldn’t help but notice how dilated his pupils were.
“Sorry,” Oomori grimaced, supporting Takuechi’s weight as his knees buckled under his own. “Do you feel like you have to throw up?”
“Yeah, should we go to the bathroom first?” Hirose suggested, starting to feel queasy himself.
“Maybe?” Takuechi’s body tremored. The sight left a dark pit of something akin to dread in Hirose’s stomach. He took an unconscious step back from the two.
“You’re starting to get heavy… Can you walk?” Oomori said hesitantly.
“I think so,” he leaned away from his friend, releasing another full-body twitch. It was like Hirose was watching his body reboot itself, only to do it again.
His words were trapped under his tongue, and he himself started to shake with nerves. “What do you think it is?”
“A really bad stomachache? Oh god, what if it’s a stomach bug?!” Oomori spoke anxiously, scared he too would end up like Takeuchi.
Hirose shook his head, sighing. “Let’s just hurry over to the nurse’s office.”
The walk was torturous, a slow pattern of stopping to let Takeuchi rest and starting up again. Both Oomori and Hirose flinched as Takeuchi’s jaw began to crack. A heave of breath- crack. A gag- crack. It was unlike anything they’ve ever heard. It was horrifying.
Then all of a sudden, it stopped.
A low snarl- one dragged up from the depths of hell- was the only warning they received before Takeuchi lunged at Oomori.
It was primal and efficient. His nails dug into Oomori’s bicep, preventing him from escaping as he took a bite at his flesh.
The scream Oomori let out chilled Hirose to the bone. Compared to the low frequency of Takuechi’s snarl, it was loud and full of anguish. Terrifyingly human it was. Then silence.
Two chunks of flesh were bitten and spat out before Hirose could move again. He ran towards his friends and used all his strength to pry Takeuchi off of Oomori. The only response he could get from Oomori was a pained whine as he dragged them towards the nurse’s room and locked the door.
“Wh-why would he-” Oomori sobbed as Hirose reluctantly shushed him. Whatever was happening, they couldn’t let Takeuchi find them.
“Do you have your phone on you?” he whispered.
Oomori shook his head, dropping to the floor as he started to hyperventilate. “The phone!” Hirose hurriedly shushed him again. “There should be one in here, right?”
Hirose smiled, praying it was calming and encouraging for his friend. “You’re probably right.” Scanning the room, he found it. A shiny black telephone glowed like a beacon of hope from its place on the desk.
He had to manually dial all three numbers, but his shaky hands made him mess up more than once. He cursed at himself, feeling pathetic, before finally entering the correct digits. The phone rang for what felt like an eternity before someone answered.
“Hello?” He spoke weakly.
“Yes?” A dispatcher spoke, his voice also weak. It was odd, considering it was in their job to always be calm in every situation. And he hadn’t even spoken yet. A dark thought lingered among the rest within him; did he know what he was going to say?
“My friend and I were told to bring another friend to the nurse’s office, but he attacked him!” Forgetting himself, his voice grew in volume. The ringing in his ears drowned out everything else.
“You’re at school?”
“Yes!” He cried. “He isn’t usually violent at all, but he just-!” He stopped himself as the dispatcher began to speak.
“O-okay, listen to me carefully,” his voice quivered before gaining back its strength. “Did he bite your friend?”
“How do you know that?!” He shouted.
“Sir, you need to immediately barricade yourself somewhere secluded until help arrives.”
“How did you know that?” He repeated.
The call was silent for a moment before he spoke. “We’ve got an influx of calls this morning with similar situations. The cause is unknown, but appears to be highly contagious, so it’s impudent that you quarantine yourself regardless of whether you’ve been bitten or not.”
Hirose’s heart stopped. What did he just say?
“...Bitten?”
A crack echoed throughout the room. Before Hirose could process the situation, Oomori’s twitchy body walked towards him. It wasn’t like Takeuchi, who was quick and hungry. Instead, his friend walked towards him slowly. Almost hesitant.
Would he attack him? Gnaw at his bone and flesh? This wasn’t like the hallway. There wasn’t an escape plan this time. They were both trapped in themselves, destined to die and be brought back for the sheer motive of killing others.
He dropped the phone, the machine clattering to the ground.
That activated Oomori, or the leftover version that corroded his body. Harsh purple veins bulged on the side of his head, along with the bite marks on his shoulder blade. He let out the same deep snarl that Takeuchi had done before lunging at him.
Hirose tried to run behind the desk, pushing through even as he banged his foot hard on the telephone he’d just dropped prior. Oomori soon followed, mindlessly clicking his teeth and biting the air.
His foot throbbed, and in his foolish attempt to escape, he had only created a dead end. He tried to jump over the desk, but it was too late. Oomori’s jaws snapped once as a warning before lunging at his one last time.
His body exploded in pain, struggling underneath his friend's hold. He couldn’t stop himself from passing out from the pain, and soon everything went black.