In His Darkest Hour (Zoisite)
| In His Darkest Hour (Zoisite) | |
|---|---|
| Date of Cutscene: | 11 March 2024 |
| Location: | An apartment in Tokyo |
| Synopsis: | Zoisite has only until the end of the month to catch up on learning he's missed, so that he can rejoin school at the start of the new term. But can he do it alone? |
| Cast of Characters: | Zoisite |
One by one, the books joined the small stack already beginning to form on the table. Chemistry. Algebra. Physics. Geometry. Biology. Zoisite stretches an arm out to adjust the top book just so, so that it aligns with the rest.
And then he falls dramatically into his chair, slouching in a casually artful way as he considers each book, one by one.
His manicured nails tap against the table top in a rhythmic pattern for several moments, until he finally plucks up one of the books and flips it open to a section marked by a sticky note. Skimming the page, his brows begin to draw ever closer and closer together, until finally he slams the book closed and sets it aside. This process repeats, with the next. And the next. And the next.
Eventually, tired of it all, Zoisite sweeps away from the table and goes to a nearby window, his arms crossing over his narrow chest as he contemplates the Tokyo skyline beyond. Rain falls in sheets against the glass, obscuring the view into a warped, distorted vision of the city, and the pale light reflected through makes him look uncharacteristically wane.
Even Zoisite can look bad, apparently, if the lighting is bad enough. Or maybe it's just an external reflection of his internal turmoil.
He stalks back to the table, pulling the chair back from it so ferociously that the legs scrape against the floor, and he sits down again. This time around Zoisite remains there for some time with one single book open, his eyes -- and then fingers -- tracing the lines of text and the scientific diagrams to be found upon the pages.
Time ticks away, slowly.
Zoisite does not fall to regret often. He is singularly possessed of himself, confident in his actions and his choices. But he knows guilt, and this is what it feels like.
He feels guilty, because if he cannot catch up in time for the new school year, he will have failed his prince.
If only he had kept going to school!
The internal structure of a cell, how to apply the quadratic equation, balancing both sides of a chemical reaction... these things feel inescapably foreign to him, as if someone is speaking another language. He lacks the foundations that the two previous years of learning would have provided him. He cannot do this.
But he must, and so he will. With a grimace that wars with the rest of his attractive features, Zoisite redoubles his efforts to learn.
Behind the clouds, the sun begins to droop towards the horizon. Pale light becomes ever dimmer as the day goes on, until the room has become as dreary and desolate as Zoisite feels inside. He is no closer to his goal of learning the curriculum than he was this morning, and now another day is gone, wasted. Before he knows it, Zoisite is up on his feet, pacing, hands balled into furious fists at his side. It is only his composure that keeps him from doing something reckless, like... well, honestly, nothing in particular comes to mind. Property damage just seems terribly below him, and there's no one here to witness a tantrum, so what's the point?
Zoisite's hands brace against the tabletop, and his head bows, a wave of gold falling across his face as his ponytail slips from his shoulder. He is truly desperate.
And now, in his darkest hour, there is only one person with the intellectual capacity to help him.
He reaches for his phone, dreading what he is about to do.
Because Zoisite is going to ask for help.
