By the time second period ended, Johannes’s better mood had completely evaporated. He trudged through the rest of the day, each class dragging him deeper into the pit he’d tried to climb out of. Physics had always been a nightmare for him. No matter how hard he tried to understand the arbitrary rules and laws, they never clicked. His notes were a mess of half-scribbled formulas and absent-minded doodles, his mind perpetually elsewhere. He distracted himself by dismantling his pens, pulling them apart and putting them back together, just to feel like he was doing something. The teacher caught him and shot him a sharp look, making him straighten up, but the damage was done. The mood that had been so easy to build was falling apart again, and he could already feel the weight of the day pressing on him.
Physics was never good. Another tedious assignment—full of calculations he’d never make sense of—was added to his already overwhelming to-do list. By the time the bell rang, signaling the end of the class, he felt like a train had run over him. The exhaustion was real, and it wasn’t just physical. His mood had taken a dive again, the fleeting highs of the morning completely forgotten. It always seemed to go this way. One moment he was floating, his mind clear, and the next, he was crashing back to earth, with no control over the descent.
The only thing that gave him any hope was that Spanish, his fourth class of the day, was usually a bit of a joke. The problem was, he just didn’t care. His parents had pushed him into learning a third language, and even though he was naturally good at languages, Spanish felt pointless. English, Swedish, Norwegian—those were enough for him. But his mother had insisted, and so he’d picked Spanish, though barely managing to scrape by with help from Isak, the boy who sat next to him. Isak was soft-spoken and kind, always sharing his notes and giving Johannes answers during tests. It made Johannes feel guilty, but he couldn’t bring himself to care enough to do the work. *Everyone* had at least one class they just coasted through. For him, it was Spanish.
Walking into class, he immediately spotted the dreaded game on the board: *Spanish Bingo*. Johannes groaned internally. He wasn’t in the mood for this. And with the way his mood had been lately, there was no way in hell he was about to participate in that mess.
With a long-winded excuse to the teacher, who was far too kind and overly enthusiastic about her subject, Johannes bolted from the classroom before the woman could insist on him staying. His feet moved automatically as he made his way down the hall, hearing the faint shuffle of Maciej’s footsteps trailing behind him. He knew his bodyguard would be irritated by the detour, but Johannes didn’t care. The closest bathroom would be full of smoke and gossip, courtesy of some of Johannes's least favourite students. He wasn’t dealing with that today.
Instead, he took a turn toward the far bathroom, next to the locker rooms, the one nobody used unless they were really desperate. It was quieter, more isolated. He didn’t need to use the bathroom, but the peace was something he craved.
He washed his hands out of habit and splashed cold water on his face, feeling the chill snap him out of the fog in his brain, even if only for a second. The bathroom was mostly empty, save for a few idle echoes of footsteps outside. Johannes leaned back against the cool tile, pulling out his phone. Maciej could wait a little longer. He scrolled through his contacts, stopping on Kyyre's name. His finger hovered over the message icon for a moment, but he didn’t click it. Instead, he stared at the glowing screen, feeling the weight of his own desire to reach out.
The ache in his chest tightened. He couldn’t keep doing this, couldn’t keep obsessing over someone he couldn’t even be with, not the way he wanted. He’d already pushed those feelings down before, buried them under layers of distractions and excuses. But every time he let himself think about Kyyre, it was like the world got a little darker, a little emptier without him.
Johannes sighed and shoved the phone back into his pocket. He needed to stop this. He needed to move on.
Fall 
Night 
Clear Moon: 
