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๐
Crush diagnosis
ft. playground date pt. II
” ๊ด์ฐฎ์ ๋ค๊ฐ ๋ด ์ฐ์ฃผ๊ณ ๋ฐ๊ฒ ๋น๋์ค “
–
Y/n usually considered herself a decently nice person. (minus the fact this was all just an act she could draw the curtains to at any time) But every once in a while, it backlashes.
Palms laid overtop the sides of her head, riling up the loose ponytail recently tied back after sweating as if she ran a marathon. All she did was speak out a few sentences with some dramatic gestures. She silently swore to never laugh at a rookie actor in a drama show from that point on, the script wrinkled from the exasperated hold on it. It wasn’t that the lines were cringy or the movements were difficult to memorize. Just that….
Whenever she recited the barely memorized acts, (or at least, attempted) it was like a monotone talkback voice on phones reading a honey-drippingly romantic script out loud. But when effort or emotion was weaved in, she refused to listen to herself speaking that looked like an rpg obsessed middle schooler. An imaginary bead of sweat trickled down her nape at the reminder that the rest of the students were actors that had been rehearsing and practicing for months ahead of time, while she was a replacement that barely had a little over a week to prepare. Teyvat’s annual performance was well known and an event everyone in the district had their eyes on, being a topic in many mouths once it was finished.
She took this as a perfect excuse to catch up on her romance dramas for reference.
And so she was, splayed across her couch with a random bag of chips in hand and eyes glued to the screen. After 30 episodes, the director going on a year long hiatus because they got into a car crash,(..?) one of the actors taking a break because they had to attend a family member’s wedding overseas, the main lead characters were finally getting development. The male lead was a stereotypical billionaire-ceo with family problems and more rolex watches than friends, his love interest being a poor girl whose parents died in a tragic accident and left to drop out of school to work for her younger sibling in a friend chicken shop. A cringey cliche repeated hundreds of times in the romance directors’ community, yet always loved by watchers.
The actor was supposed to be a poor woman in her twenties with a sick teenager to feed and in massive debt, how was her skin so glowy.. Right, this was fiction.
Crunching on another piece of chip, the scene in front of Y/n changed to focus on the male lead’s hand tightly clenched on the female lead’s wrist in an attempt to stop her from leaving. She cursed the overly large white subtitles of the illegal website that ruined the mood. Another gooey sticky cliche of the two main characters in the pitch black rain of the night after a fight, which she also never grew bored of.
Y/n felt the mushed bits sliding down her throat, soon to land in her stomach that felt oddly empty as of today. Not in a way that was hungryโ but like a vast hole punctured somewhere. Her hand about to reach into the bag again paused.
Instead, she grabbed the remote control that was sitting on her lap and held onto the volume button, watching the number bar go higher and higher. But it still felt empty. Too quiet, but too loud. Like a static noise buzzing at the corner of her mind. The air around her thickened with unspoken words, suffocating in its silence, drowning her in the cacophony of muted lines of the actors’ voices on the screen. Each button pressed on the remote was but an unfuitful attempt to fill the silence, for something, anything, to break through the numbness that threatened to melt her entire being whole.
It was loud. Too loud. But there was nothingโ around her, beside her, under her, in her stomach that felt like it was creating an abyss yawning in an attempt to swallow her from inside out.
“hey, ….urn the vol.. โdown.”
“Are you deaf?? What are you doing with the tv on full volume?” Scaramouche snatched the remote out of her hands, brows cringed into a frown as he pressed on the lower volume button like a madman until the sound was at a third of what it was before. He sighed upon the release from noise on his poor eardrums, lower eye twitching as he turned to the causer of the problem. “…What’s up with you this time.”
Cracking out of a trance, his roommate batted her lashes in realization and turned to him. Today, Scaramouche returned home a little later than usualโ saying he had a doctor’s appointment previously. “Huh..? Oh.” She plastered on a carefreely apologetic grin as though the void-like expression that was in its place before never existed. “I forgot to lift my finger and I zoned out.”
“Do you not understand the language I’m speaking, want me to tell you in a southern accent instead??” He deadpanned. “What’s wrong.”
Her smile twitched momentarily before she narrowed her eyes in a face she always made before saying a stupid joke she learnt from high schoolers. But before her words could form in her throat, he firmly shoved an index finger vertically on her lips. “Fine then. Who.”ย “…?”
“Who.” Y/n felt an invisible bead of sweat trickle down the side of her face. That was an extremely familiar expression she had witnessed on a regular basis whenever he was talking to students while in a bad mood. “Calm down, no one’s trying to murder me.” She shrugged as an attempt to swat away the fog of tension that had began to accumulate before it filled up the house. Unfortunately, he wasn’t having at it.
Too bad the two of them were as stubborn as weedy dandelions on a green field. “So it’s someone.” The female teacher slapped a hand on her forehead. “No โit’s not that.” Her sentence came out as a sigh wrapped up with ignorance and tied up in a ribbon of silence that followed soon after. The pair both stood their ground for the next few seconds that felt illegally long as though someone was holding onto the hands of Y/n’s cat shaped clock hung by the side of the TV. Reflections of light from the show bounced across her h/c locks like shimmering lakelight. Y/n’s brows faintly knit into a frown as the seconds finally began to resume ticking again.
A defeated deflation of breath, the art teacher finally raised a white flag. “I was just overthinking.” She admitted without ever meeting his gaze, pretending to take in the resuming movements of actors on the screen. But that no longer worked as he raised the remote by the side of her head to press the circular red button on the top corner. His eyes only narrowed as an unnoticeable flinch jerked on her shoulders, which she brushed off naturally by moving a hand to brush through her locks. “I’m a bit tired today. Packing up and allโ”
Y/n paused in her tracks, remembering that Scaramouche was probably still sensitive to the topic. However, he was seemingly unaffected by the sudden bringing up of the subject. As though he was scooping her words with one ear and flowing it through the other.
“…”
Wordlessly, his heels spun towards her room as he marched onward. She could have easily stopped him or called out, but decided against doing so when she noticed the way he slowed down slightly by her door so she had time to intervene. It was that or the boxes that stopped him.. But the point stood.
His indigo hair popped back out within the next five seconds with something in his hand. Y/n flailed around momentarily as something large and thin draped over her, blocking her vision for a split moment. “Put it on.” She finally managed to un-bury herself and realized that he brought her jacket out. Arms crossed, his figure expectantly leaned on by the doorframe. “Whatโ”
“I’ll get snow from outside and throw it at your face if you don’t stand up within five seconds after I finish this sentence.”
“….”
“One, two,”
“Alright alright, I get it..! I’m coming.”
He grabbed his sneakers and tossed it on the front porch before loosely allowing the door open behind himself. Y/n paused for a faint moment, her facial muscles losing their tension and falling to a blank gaze.
“I’ll drag you by your hair if you don’t get out here.” Scaramouche monotonously stated from the other side. She laughed at the comment and lifted herself from the couch. With her movement, the quicksand of the couch had finally let its twisted brambles of arms free around her body. Y/n lazily tossed her jacket over her shoulder and stretched an arm in, struggling and flailing to get her other arm through.
Almost tripping from a crack in the pavement, she felt a grip on her hood. “You’re wearing it inside out.”
“…..”
“I want whatever whoever gave you your education degree must have been high on when they decided you would be able to teach.”
Soon enough, the cloudy smoke that filled her brain and sunk her into the couch dissipated with a lighthearted forehead flick from his fingertips. Melting into the ground that still had hardened snow covered many spots by the sides of the concrete pavement they matched their steps upon. Almost mid February. Soon, the shiny translucent blocks of coldness on the earth would dissipate with the lengthening days.
Their aimless bantering started, with mostly the art teacher rambling about topics that changed every few microseconds. Scaramouche only ever opened his mouth once in a while to throw a deadpanned remark or correct her, replied with her repeating whatever he said with a finger pointed up and the other index between her eyes, imitating his deeper voice poorly.
His eyes lingered around her lips that were still busily closing and shut about the subject regarding whatever was on her corny romance show before. He wasn’t particularly interested in the subject, but the way she worded things made it.. Slightly easier to pass through. Would he bother to stick around for more than two full seconds if it was another teacher saying those exact words though?
Absolutely not.
Without even realizing, their destination was headed towards the nearby playground down a few blocks. Y/n recognized it to be the very park they encountered some of their students at a few weeks ago. Ah.. That was already almost two months ago now. Since the sun was nearly setting, there weren’t any kids around. She hopped over the fence instead of using the perfectly useable entrance a few steps away, making a beeline towards the swings. Her company breathed out of his nose and followed behind, shoving his hands in his pockets.
Perching herself on a swing, Y/n kicked the woodchip-covered ground beneath her to get the structure moving back and forth. Kunikuzushi sighed with a shake of his head and sat on a swing one away from her own.
No one spoke a word since the arrival to the park, and neither seemed to fancy the idea of breaking the comfortable silence. This time, it wasn’t the choking blanket that filled everything. Silence is a deep navy blue you’ll get sunk so deep into without even knowing, so far down until you can’t hear or see anything from the surface. Filling everything around you. Your hands, behind your tongue, through your nose.
But this silence was a pale periwinkle that felt like a distant dream, like a bubble leisurely gliding through the air. For the reason it would end within a blink of an eye, neither wished to be the one to pop it for now.
E/c pupils turned to her left, catching a glimpse of navy unenthusiastically pushing himself occasionally with his foot. He stared straight ahead, gazing at the main play structures as though recalling something that was once there. If it weren’t for his cynical nature, one would think he was reminiscing.
Such a pretty blue..
“Have we met somewhere before?”
The question that poked a finger out to the circular surface of the smooth, flawless bubble popped its momentary beauty.
“…Perhaps.”
“That’s not really an answer.” She complained. “I didn’t really notice before, but you seem.. Familiar? I don’t know how to explain it.”
“We went to the same high school.”
“Ah, right.”
Another blue splashed itself onto the canvas once more. It was neither the sinking, poisonous indigo, nor the feathery baby blue. Kunikuzushi looked towards his own left, leaving only his neck down and the back-side of his head free for her to view. His poor lower lip being bit on as though it committed a crime, nor the shaking hand in his pocket ever went noticed.
Y/n pursed her lips, feeling the leftover gloss from the day sticking them together. “Oh, right. You went for a doctor’s appointment todayโ how did it go?” He froze like a deer caught in headlights, a visible jerk of his shoulders spiking up before freezing in that spot.
โ
The sting of alcohol and bleachy chemicals poorly attempted to be masked by flowery air diffusers clung to the back of his throat, sounds of footsteps thumping down the hallways and scraping sounds of wheelchairs being pushed around. A tall nurse in a teal-blue scrub popped her head in the waiting lounge. Next patient, Raiden Scaramouche? Doctor is ready for your appointment.”
He stood up from his seat, shoving his phone into his back pocket. Maybe he should’ve chosen an actual hospital rather than a walk in clinic, but he wasn’t about to drive an extra half an hour just for a checkup that would probably diagnose him with high blood pressure at most. Scaramouche swung the doctor’s examination room open before stepping in.
The room was nothing fancy. An examination table by the side along with a large cabinet, the doctor’s desk on the opposite side. A green haired male perked up with a smile. “Good evening, sir Raiden. Please take a seat on the stool for the meantime.” He gestured to the short wheeled stool in front of his own chair.
Dr. Baizhu was etched into the rectangular name tag on the left of his white doctor coat. A man that seemed to be in his mid thirties. Not too young that Scaramouche would suspect to be an ai-using cheater medschool student (that he witnessed multiple times in university).
“Hm, I see you’ve gotten an appointment for a general cardiovascular examination. Have you been experiencing symptoms or pain as of lately?”
“..Time to time. Mostly some mild chest pressure and palpitations.” He muttered without meeting eye contact, the secondhand embarrassment of the reality finally hitting him with an echoing slap. Doctor Baizhu nodded and slung off the stethoscope around his neck. “I see. Any light-headedness, nausea or cold sweat?” Scaramouche rolled his sweater up as the cold circular surface pressed firmly against his skin.
“Yes.”
“Have you been irregularly eating and sleeping? Or was this just a continuous thing you’ve been experiencing for some time.”
Scaramouche wordlessly thought for some time.
“..Not much has changed.” The green haired doctor hummed before asking him to lay down on the cushioned examination table. As expected, the examination went on for another just under half an hour or so along with the doctor popping in a few questions every now and then. It smelled sterile. He occasionally even shuddered slightlyโ although, it wasn’t because of the cold metals or the gentle gloved touches. But rather, a long and faded memory no one but his muscles seemed to recall. Placing the thought somewhere aside, the math teacher brought his attention back to reality.
Doctor Baizhu unwrapped the thick velcro strap around his patient’s arm that was used to monitor blood pressure. “Hm.. There isn’t anything that seems to be wrong. At least, nothing that any of the equipment nor myself could detect.” He mumbled out loud. Scaramouche bit his tongue and swallowed back a remark about how such cheap instruments could exam patients that could possibly even be on deathbed within a few moments later.
“Are there certain conditions when your symptoms seem to reveal themselves more? Such as after eating certain things or while excessively exercising.” The older man gestured with his hand. Squinting his eyes, Kunikuzushi flicked his thumb against his index in thought.
…..
“When I’m… Close in contact with someone.” He frowned. Now thinking of it โall of his little episodes involved people. As for that vague description…
“Do you regularly feel anxious around others?”
“No.”
“Certain people..?”
“..Sometimes”
After some thought, the doctor cracked an amused smile. He shook his head and snorted inaudibly. “Just to be sure, let’s have a blood sample test.”
Scaramouche was dazed, not even realizing that the process was finished until Baizhu gently pressed a circular band aid on the squishy flesh by the inside of his elbow. He quickly closed his mouth upon realizing it was slightly hung agape. Ever since the question about the requirements of his symptoms, he was stumped.
“May I ask about your sleeping pattern?”
“I sleep when I’m tired.”
“..That certainly helped. Anyways, any dietary concerns or medications you’re currently on?”
“I’ve actually been eating healthier.” He paused for a moment upon remembering the piles of empty instant ramen noodles that piled up in his room at one point. With the unspoken habit of taking turns making dinner or at least ordering somethingโ he was forced to genuinely feed himself ever since “moving out.” Well, the situation with his roommate probably was the first case in the world.
Placing his stethoscope back over his shoulders, the older man gave him a nostalgic smile. “We’ll have to wait a few days for your blood results, but I do have something in mind.” He slid back on the stool, picking up the clipboard with a string of pen attached to the metal clip part. Scaramouche impatiently gazed at him for the long awaited explanation.
“You said these symptoms mostly occur around people. By chance, is it nearby a specific person?”
“…I don’t remember. (Yes.)”
“Sir Raiden. Until further examination, you are diagnosed with a crush.”
โ
Scaramouche scoffed, shaking his head. “The doctor was probably stoned on something. I’m going to book another one sometime.” He grumbled. His companion hummed and stared up at the clouding sky. She felt grateful that he had enough sense to toss her jacket into her arms before dragging her out, feeling the cold wind caress through her loosely flowing hair. A pair of crows landed on the play structure ahead, cawking at each other as they tumbled around for a piece of food one of them brought along.
“That’s us.” Y/n pointed at the birds. The other teacher gave the objective of her gesture an uninterested glance. “You’re the one that’s falling to the ground.”
“Heyโ the other one jumped after the falling one! Double suicide~”
….And the pair started mating on the ground. Both teachers fell into silence.
“…Crows have a better love life than us.”
“Keep me out of this.”
“When was the last time you held hands with a girl.”
His thoughts drifted to the times his hand held loosely against her wrist while pulling her along brushed the back of his train of thoughts, although dare not opening her mouth about it. If he did, Y/n would be getting a never-again chance to make fun of him for the upcoming few months.
“Wana go get coffee?”
Squeezing his indigo irises shut, Scaramouche hopped off the rubbery seat. “You’re paying.” Y/n shrugged and followed suit after a few more back-and-forth swings on the structure. “You always say that and end up tossing your card to the register every time.”
He ignored her remark and shoved his hands back in his pockets, marching onward. The female soon followed his steps until she reached his side.
Side by side, they walked drowned in the shades of blue that enveloped them whole while the icy coat on the grass slowly began to melt even then.
Maybe sometime, one of these daysโ all that frost would melt and a sunny spring will come.
โโ
A/n just saw crows having sex for ten minutes straight and not sure hiw to feel ab it
Im the one watching on the side
I lied when i said ill update in may bc i got impatient and stafted writing instead of writing my overdue essays
Guys i just watched the miraculous movie for shits and giggles wifb my frineds and i almost sobbed THAT WAS THE THING THAT HAD US IN A CHOKEHOLD IN 2016. Also i didnt know it was a musical and choked bc they kept singing every five minutes
This chapter was kinda rushed so keep both eyes open for grammer mistakes ๐บ
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