Hisao listened to his heartbeat.
It sounded hollow and dull, an empty can being kicked absentmindedly around his chest.
It sounded weak.
What time was it?
The red digits of the alarm clock seemed to wink at him, changing from 3:40 to 3:41. Damn. He shifted around yet again from his side to his back. Turning his head to the side just made his neck hurt, but staring straight up was getting old – even someone used to staring at blank ceilings for weeks on end got frustrated with it sometimes. Why couldn’t he sleep?
Yesterday had been a particularly long, if somewhat uneventful day – the school festival. He had been pestered by the student council and Lilly to take a more active role this year, but he had managed to avoid any real responsibility once again. He had run into a few acquaintances; the first of which was the most memorable and least pleasant. Kenji had accosted him in the hallway and invited him to the roof almost as soon as the day began. It was funny, the strange invitation had actually been somewhat tempting. No matter how delusional and self-absorbed the guy was, it still felt nice that he wanted to hang out. Hisao also felt at ease under Kenji’s near-sighted gaze in a way he rarely did around others. But an oddly foreboding feeling had sprung up at the last moment and the usual excuses were made.
Reflecting on the rejection made the young man a bit frustrated with himself. Yes, Kenji was certainly someone better to avoid, but it was possible to rationalize away almost everyone as a poor use of time. And Hisao did.
He had run into Lilly soon after escaping his eccentric neighbor. She had obviously been in need of help with the short staffed cart, and for a moment Hisao had considered offering. Over his three years at Yamaku, Lilly had been probably the closest thing to a real friend he’s had. The blonde was somewhat intimidating with her wide circle of admirers surrounding her, however. While their shared lunches and the occasional trip to the Shanghai were good memories, Hisao often felt that Lilly was just as subtly aloof with him as she was with everyone else she associated with.
After walking away with the food, Emi, the bubbling ball of energy that he had somewhat foolishly decided to jog with one morning as an experiment, had bounded up and sneered a bit at his less than optimal food choice. She invited him to tag along with her, but he had lied about meeting another classmate. Keeping up with that girl was just a little too exhausting, both literally and figuratively.
Similarly, after eating, he had spied Rin, the armless girl with surprising talent for art sitting alone near her mural he had briefly helped her with. He had approached and complimented her efforts politely, but her nonsensical reply and faraway gaze soon chased him away.  
There was always a reason to ditch somebody. Always.
Still, the festival had been a nice change of pace. It had been pleasant, if a bit melancholy. Walking around alone and staring at random faces in the crowd had made Hisao a bit lonely, but not enough to seek out one of the acquaintances he had previously escaped. The fireworks at the end were actually inspiring, and in a rare moment of private melodrama, Hisao promised himself that he would grow stronger. Why exactly he still felt so weak was still a mystery. His condition was obvious, and he thought about it every day, but it went a bit deeper than just that.  In the end, the reasons were less important than the fact itself, however. Hisao felt weak and wanted to change that feeling.
Perhaps not having any concrete ideas as to how was why he was still awake? By all rights he should have fallen asleep as soon as his head hit the sheets. He was certainly exhausted enough. But for some reason, his brain wouldn’t stop churning and his eyes just couldn’t stay closed.    
“…Damn.” With a sigh, he slowly rolled over and slapped at the switch to his bedside lamp. Maybe try reading another chapter or two of his book. A Night to Remember. Both the title and the story itself were awful, honestly. Hisao had never been particularly picky with his reading material. Even if a story was boring, there was still something to learn or some moment that was surprisingly pleasant in its mediocrity. Still, he had always avoided romance stories and he was getting a reminder of why every time his tired eyes read a new line.
<Her hair flowed around her gentle face like a river of flame. From the wisps of crimson emanated the faint smell of strawberries.>
Everything seemed to smell like strawberries in this story.
<“S-Sensei…” The cloud of her breath lingered between them, a fog that only the truth could dissipate. “I-I-I-I love you!”>
Seriously?  She met the chump twenty pages ago.
<“I see… I suppose I have to take responsibility for that, don’t I?” His student’s blushing threatened to overtake her.>
<“P-Please do…”>
<As he approached, she gasped slightly and looked away with her eyes, but not her heart.>
<“ …I love you too.”>
<“Sensei!”>
<As their lips met and their tongues tentatively prodded->
The clap of the book snapping shut was satisfying. But Hisao was more awake than ever now, and it seemed that the best course of action might be to simply bite the bullet and stay up until tomorrow night. He scratched his fingers against his scalp rapidly, hoping to jumpstart his brain if it wasn’t going to cooperate and fully shut down. He enjoyed the lingering tingle for a few minutes before hopping up out of his bed with a flourish that gave him none of the energy that he hoped it would and turned to look at himself in the small mirror against his wall.
He ran his fingers through his thick brown hair, waggled his eyebrows, puffed out his cheeks, struck a few kung-fu poses, and then stood still.
Slowly he moved his right arm up in front of his face and smiled at himself. The smile was as empty and phony as always. Hisao felt particularly ugly tonight.
Forcing himself to drop his arm to his side, Hisao took stock of himself for what must have been the billionth time. The deep, puckered craters and tight, stretched out expanses of unnatural red that covered his face, shoulder, arm, chest, back, stomach, and thigh almost seemed to glow in the orange light. Sometimes he thought about just trying to rip it all off. Who knows, maybe clean, healthy, normal skin had grown underneath after all these years and all he had to do was pull.
So ugly. So fucking ugly.  
Standing alone in his pajamas at nearly 4 am, Hisao asked himself a question aloud.
“Why am I afraid of everyone?”
After thinking about it for what seemed like hours, Hisao sat down in the middle of his floor and allowed himself a rare moment of melodrama – he cried until he couldn’t cry any more.
--------