Suguru has been in a bit of a slump lately. You’ve noticed how tired he’s been looking, how drained he looks. Pale skin, tired eyes with bags under them, messy hair, and it even seems as if he’s too exhausted to wear his uniform properly. It was unexpected, how someone who used to firmly pride themself on their morals and beliefs suddenly grew to question them; the world that once was enjoyable and exciting soon grew to be his downfall.

As Suguru sits beside you, you’re running your fingers through his soft, black hair, his eyes half-lidded and his lips pressed together into a straight face. “Everything is just so… exhausting.” Suguru says, shrugging his shoulders and tilting his head to lean it into the palm of your hand. “What is wrong with me?” Poor boy.