Hey, friends... it's been like three years or something? Ha ha. Sorry. Before you read this, you need to know that nothing I'm posting from this chapter up has been edited. I'll have it on note that I'm currently re-writing this story (like major reconstruction, because I literally cringe at this entire thing), but I'll probably only post it in another year or two, so...yeah. I'm only posting this because a lovely reader asked for the rest of the chapters.

Anyway, enjoy or don't. It's going up anyway.

I used to like Fridays…back when all I wanted to do was get away from school and its obligations; when I had friends to spend the weekends with and a home to go to. But now Fridays are just another obligatory day to mark the end of a school week. They feel boring, like all the pent up energy from the other students are a farce meant to throw me off track.

There are a couple invites from classmates to go to a karaoke bar or to join in at a gauken that evening, but as usual I decline the offers. Kagami mentions something about a date with Kuroko and the other boys quickly dismiss him from attending in fear of the shorter boy's wrath. Although it seems like somehow they roped Midorima into going by capturing Takao-kun's interest and Kise was tagging along, dragging a reluctant Aomine behind him.

Thus, as usual, I end up alone in the dorm Friday evening with nothing but a laptop overflowing with outdated series and a English essay to write.

I do somewhat miss Ryō-kun's presence, even though he was a rather quiet and solitary roommate to have, at least his presence fended off the prickling sensation being alone left to crawl down my spine. More than a few times I glance up, opening my mouth to ask Ryō his opinion on my choice of English words only to shut my mouth once more as I find myself on my own.

The sickening swirl of my gut wants me to hide in my cupboard, maybe phone Kagetora to ask if I'm still safe or perhaps it's urging me to dive into the bottle of sleeping pills I keep tucked in my sock draw in case of a really bad night. But I try to focus my mind elsewhere and spend a good few hours searching through a dictionary in pursuit of the right words to make the essay seem a somewhat reasonable level of English. When the essay is done and my weary mind can no longer focus enough for me to find possible mistakes, I shuffle the papers on to my desk and set up the laptop so that I can lie in my bed and watch a movie simultaneously.

I start with some Japanese drama depicting a girl whose father was in the hospital due to…well I'm not sure, I fell asleep ten minutes into her dialogue and too much crying.

When I wake though, it's still dark out and the laptop has long since fallen into hibernation mode, only the flashing battery sign lets me know that the object is still plugged into the charger.

For a long minute I lie there staring at the roof, not really thinking, not really awake, just slumming in an in-between state of lala-land and the real world. It's a peaceful experience made up of the warmth of my blankets and the silence of the dorms at night.

I'm only roused from this state when my bladder gives a vicious kick and I cringe, nearly jumping from bed to find the bathroom.

Weekends in the dorm are incredibly empty and quiet, generally only consisting of a few stragglers unwilling to go home or pay the bus fare while they could spend their money on nearby entertainment. It's busier when there are exams coming up, most staying in to cram the last of their work in and hold miniature study groups which usually turn into more rough housing than actual studying.

The dorms seem particularly quiet tonight – well, considering it is three am, I'm hardly surprised. But that doesn't mean my skin has stopped crawling or the hairs on the back of my neck has rested from their stand to attention. At this time there should still be the echo of snores and soft mumbling from the sleep-talkers.

I flip on every light as I hurry down the hallway, shivering slightly although it isn't cold this time of year. At least the hallway is carpeted and I don't need to hear my feet against the ground, it's a small relief, but one I'm beyond grateful for.

Once I've completed my business, I flip off the bathroom light and stare down the passage. The unusual silence has left me too awake to go back to sleep and I hurry down the stairs to the first floor.

My first destination is the kitchen, where I whip up a soothing cup of tea and slap together a crude peanut butter sandwich, that despite its slap-dash looks tastes just as good as a neatly made one. Balancing my early-morning snack; I then move to the Rec Room, unable to switch on these lights without fingers and too scared of dropping my food to try using my elbows. I stumble a few times over discarded object before I find a cosy couch facing the mounted television across the room.

Food and drink safely placed on a side-table, I turn the television on and grab a gaming consul, willing to play whatever unfortunate game that's been left in the Xbox for the weekend. That completed, I seat myself in the chair, quickly turning the sound down close to mute, least I wake the one or two boys left in the dorm with me.

Unfortunately my lack of gaming ability is put to the test when I find myself sucked into a vertical reality comprised of superheroes turned evil and too many characters to choose from. Internally I sigh, wishing it were a racing game instead – those I could play, still not great, but at least better than my poor combat skills.

By the time I've beaten Batman, by a mere smidgen mind me, the windows are brimming with light and the cost of my determination to thwart my imaginary enemy has left my tea cold. Weary slumber tugs at my eye lids and I resort to falling asleep right there on the couch, with the faint strains of chatter in the kitchen lulling me further into darkness.

I awake to someone shaking my shoulders and seconds later a bleary face made up off too much light finds its way into my line of vision. I'm particularly good with names and faces – something I'm proud of and has gotten me out of trouble many times. But at this particular moment the brown eyes and equally brown hair could have belonged to a stranger for all the thoughts I can gather.

"Hey, man, can you move to your room? We wanna use the TV,"

This 'we' is made up with another boy with lighter eyes and darker hair who's already made himself comfortable on the other bench facing said form of entertainment. For a long moment I try to discern who these boys may be – well, they're looking slightly familiar now that I force myself to dwell on it – but no names or credible connections form. Instead of making a fuss about the situation, I drag myself from the chair and half-stumble, half-sleep walk out the room.

I don't even remember walking up the stairs, but suddenly I'm in front of my bedroom door and I squint trying to find the handle.

After much fumblingly and some bothersome grumbling – which I'll never admit to – I manage to get the door open. Except even with my half-mast eyes I can see that this isn't right.

I'm about to turn around and go back in search of my room when I notice across the room my fluffy red blanket attached arms and all draped across an overturned chair.

I don't think I've ever lost my desire to sleep so quickly in my life.

Not with the insides of my bed now on the outside and all the draws ripped from the cupboard and their contents strewn across the floor. Even the remains of my shredded English paper decorate the ground.

I'm not necessarily too sporty; I probably wouldn't run a marathon unless threatened. No… I wouldn't, but this is one of those rare times when body takes over will and before I can bat an eyelash I'm sprinting down the stairs on the opposite end of the hall, practically flying in my rush to get out the doors.

Who cares if I was still wearing my pyjamas?

I was headed anywhere, as long as it was far as away from the ransacked dorm room as humanly possible.