Liu Lianyu drafts about twenty apology messages on his phone but he sends none of them.
A week goes by and he keeps putting it off, like an idiot. He's just a zombie, a cog in the machine. Wake up, work, go home, sleep. Rinse and repeat.
Mo Yinan watches him in the classroom but he's grown quiet. The quiet grows like the stifling sea that floods Liu Lianyu's heart; silent and oppressive. Liu Lianyu listens to the sound of the chalk scraping the board. The sky is already darkening and they're still in class. The clock ticks and Liu Lianyu finds that he's counting down the minutes. The drawl of his own voice is putting him to sleep and Liu Lianyu might have repeated the same thing at least three times but he does it with confidence and hopes that no one notices.
He's tired.
Even when the bell rings and he reminds his class of their assignments and upcoming tests, he's tired.
