DISCLAIMER: I do not own Persona 3 Portable.

Fall to Pieces

Chapter 2: Bad Day, Bad Habits, and Bad Ass Guys

I have a splitting headache and I feel some kind of residue on my throat that tastes like dinner last night. I swear on my parents' grave to never ever drink whiskey again.

Two aspirins for breakfast didn't make any difference. I still feel like trampled garbage and the ground swings under my feet. I wonder whatever the hell I was thinking yesterday to give myself a hung over on the second day that I would go to school.

I forgot to stop by my locker and I'm running fifteen minutes late. When I open the classroom's door everyone's eyes are on me. Ms. Toriumi says something incomprehensible to my ears so I just ignore her. There's an idiot on my seat, the idiot is probably the original owner of that seat. I can shove him out of the chair or I can look for another space. But because today is a bad day I park myself on the vacant chair at the back of the classroom. Every student on Class 2F looks away disappointed for being deprived of early morning drama.

A guy with a blue cap grins at me before facing back the board while a brown-haired girl looks at me intently. Oh shit. What did I do yesterday? Who are those guys? I can't remember because whiskey is fogging up my brain. Did I get my homework done? Was there even homework? I don't know and I'm caught between not caring and worrying over.

So I do the best option, I freeze my mind and let myself go on auto-pilot, at least until lunch.

The bell rings. Everyone packs up. Some go out and some stay. Bentos are placed on desks.

Lunch time, finally.

Now, I remember the guy. The girl isn't much. It's the guy who would probably be sticking his nose around like he did yesterday. He hasn't said anything yet but I already feel tired.

Junpei Iori comes up beside me grinning like a total idiot. I only remember his name because I'm good at storing information how useless it might be and I hate it. I slouch lower on my chair and stare ahead.

"What?"

It took some time before he responds, probably waiting for me to turn and face him but too bad I won't.

"You want to go to cafeteria together?"

"No."

"Oh! I know a good place where you can eat your bento peacefully."

"No."

I can find a place on my own and it won't be peaceful if he's around. I don't even have a bento. And I'm not even eating lunch. I stand up and leave without a word. My bag proclaiming authority over my chair is message enough that I'll come back.

I let my feet lead me into stairs that goes upwards to almost empty halls. I am unfortunate today or maybe the timing is just off because I hear horrifying squeals and distorted giggles across the hall. Fan girls. Apparently they exist everywhere. In the center of their flock is a silver-haired boy who looks like an annoyed superstar surrounded by monkeys.

I think I remember him. I think I've seen him before. I continue my trek upwards to a place with the promise of fresh air. No walls. No roofs. The rooftop. That's right. Yesterday I woke up and he was there, caught off guard as if he was guilty of something. Now that I think about it, it isn't surprising that he's popular. It'd be much more of a wonder if he isn't.

I open the door and I am welcomed by the chilly wind and muffled by a back that smells like sandalwood and cinnamon and smoke. Cigarette smoke. A smell I'm very much familiar with. The smell tends to stick. I couldn't help but snicker.

I move backwards and the guy turns towards me. I know it's a male because girls don't have broad backs like that. He looks at me like I'm the last thing he expects to see as if there's no way another person can pop out at the school's rooftop.

"What do you think you're doing here?" He says in a very gruff and very territorial tone that I'm supposed to be scared, but because I'm not an ordinary person I merely counter his glare.

"There's no rule in school saying I can't be here."

He stares me down and I let him have a good look. After a few seconds he falters somewhat.

"Tch. Whatever."

The guy lays himself on the furthest bench completely disregarding my presence. Two years ago it would have made me upset and insulted. Now, I don't care. There are a lot more things that matter than dealing with people who thinks they can ignore you. I wish I could have been just like this before, the person who ignores and wants to get ignored.

I sit at the opposite bench, curl my legs and hug my knees. I stare off into space and try to make out the shapes of the clouds. I don't see the cake-frosting white fluffs floating on the sea of blue. What I see is a broken girl and blood and darkness. Hollowness. Nothing.

My tongue burns and my throat is on fire. I need to quell it with a liquid or ignite it with a stick. I bite my tongue and force myself to look at the only available distraction. I examine the guy who seems to have fallen asleep on the other side of this vast expanse.

I close my eyes and try to picture his face, digging the fresh memory on the pockets of my disturbed mind. He has grey eyes that are covered by long fringes of brown hair, a perfectly chiseled jaw, and a line for a mouth any girl would be too curious to kiss. However, the bags of guilt under his eyes and the hovering demons behind him are what I clearly see.

Divert. Divert. Divert.

Diversion is the key to not investing. To dwell on a subject matter for more than ten seconds is vital.

I clip on my earphones and thumb the shuffle button of my mp3 on my pocket. Meaningless words and misused melodies pierce trough my ears. I wish I don't have to be at school right now. I wish I didn't have to leave Tokyo. I wish I could have run…

I wish a lot of things. Mostly I wish I could put myself in an eternal slumber and be Sleeping Beauty in a place where all princes are dead so no one would kiss me awake.

But fairytales aren't real. And I live in a world where in when you sleep you'll eventually have to wake up. With a Prince or not.

When I open my eyes I'm in Class 2F. Last period. Math. Twenty minutes left before the bell rings to announce the end of the day. Not really. The day ends when tomorrow comes and time is too slow that it can't be Sunday yet.

Miyahara spouts off nonsense in front of the classroom. Everyone stares at her, not to listen, but probably to stare at her bushy hair that is full of wonders. I stare too.

Actually, I like Miyahara's class. Not because I like math, but because watching Miyahara teach is like watching a stand-up comedian work some spoof but fail. She even has afro-hair and she has this dreamy look of talking about numbers as if its romance. That is if she's not confused on her own equation. She lost me with pi.

I ditched the first week of school. When my aunt got a wind of it she dialed school immediately to call in sick for me. Seriously, the lengths of what my aunt would do for me to cover me up are unimaginable. Normally one would think that I'm someone who shouldn't be spoiled. But I don't blame her, she probably have no idea how to raise me, more so with the idea of how to handle a problematic teen.

I skip my meeting with the great Student Council President and hit the streets of Tatsumi Port Island with a late afternoon stroll. I bet Mitsuru Kirijo would give me an earful welcome tomorrow morning and that is if I show up at school tomorrow at all. I'm not sure yet. Give it a month or two and she'd bust a nerve courtesy of my misconduct in her wonderful school.

After a week of being absent I should have known my way around. But no, it's not enough for me to know my way around. I need to know every nook and cranny of this city like the back of my hand so that I'll know where to run and hide when the time came that I needed to.

Three blocks past Iwatodai's main road I see a shrine. A neatly painted sign above the archway says it's called Naganaki Shrine. Out of curiosity I enter the shrine, which is actually decorated with a play set on the other side. It has a see-saw, slide, and jungle gym bars. By the farthest corner of the shrine is an Inari or something and in front of it a deposit of crystal clear water where people drop coins to make a wish. There's a Divine Tree too. At the center of the shrine is an altar with an offertory box and customary bell. I check the other wooden box located at the farthest right, which is actually sort of a fortune-telling box. Whoever thought of putting all of this together had a ridiculous sense of design. But that doesn't matter to me. I don't have anything against tasteless and disproportioned zoning. The place is clean, quiet, and there aren't many people around unlike the park. So it would do for a while.

I take a sit at the most secluded bench available and inhale the fresh air that Port Island offered that Tokyo never had. It's peaceful here and very far from the noise that people carried around them. Sitting here in solitude I wish that I could always stay in a place like this. Away from everyone and just by myself.

When I return back at my aunt's apartment she's already there. Fixing dinner. Take out dinner that is. Chinese food. Noodles, again. She can't cook to save her life. Seeing the dish my tongue suddenly starts to taste like bile.

I take a glass of water.

"How was school?" She asks and I answer her with the same response I gave her yesterday.

"School was school." I shrug and leave for my room.

"Aren't you going to eat dinner?"

"Nope. I'm still full."

The conversation ends there.

Truthfully, the only thing I ate the whole day was a single serving of takoyaki. My stomach is probably going to punish me for this but I just can't bring myself to eat because my tongue won't let me. It'll probably get flushed down the toilet afterwards even if I force myself to do it.

It's like my body hates me. Well, I hate it too. Not surprising at all because myself hates me and I hate myself too.

I have a stupid shitty self.

A/N: Minako took a bath so she didn't smell like liquor.

Thank you Twinkle Ace, Music1uv3r279, Traisa, Noelle Strife, and Kazedama-Miko for your reviews.

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