It’s like a distant call.

Kind of like your mother talking to you through your door, but a bit more muffled, as if water were filling your ears. The voice doesn’t get clearer as it gets louder, but you know what it’s saying.

Slow, emotionless, raspy, but as it grows louder maybe a bit needy, almost begging.

He sits quietly, back againt the wall, with his hands over his face, head hanging low, as a soft sigh leaves his mouth.

Staring at the wall had gotten trippy, as his vision swirled.

It gets louder until he passes out, already exhausted from the previous night, then it starts back up again, waking him up to repeat yesterday’s troubles all over again.

At this point he doesn’t even think about what’s tomorrow and what was yesterday, he only thinks of these days as a never ending second of overwhelming exhaustion.

“Kei.”

He’s grown to hate his name, the name he chose, the name he loved to be called, that’s now just a trip away from bringing him to his knees, as he begs for it to never be said again.

It’s just the way it wakes him up, and never stops being said, even when he can’t see who’s saying it.

He sits up to stare at the wall once again, hitting his head against the one behind him, as if it were the thing that was messing with him.

Does it ever stop?

For a bit, until it quiets back down, making it feel more ominous, at the sudden change in tone.