Trauma Harem

The alarm blared. 6:45 AM.

Kazu ignored it.

His body was heavy, his mind sluggish, his limbs unwilling to move. Another day. Another pointless repetition of a routine that never seemed to change.

The ceiling fan spun in slow, lazy circles above him. The air in his room was still. Too still.

Something shifted beside him. A presence—familiar, weighty, inescapable.

Soft fingers traced idle, meaningless patterns against his skin. A heavy sigh, long and drawn out, barely a whisper but pressing down on him like lead.

"Shhh… It's okay. You don't have to get up."

The voice was slow, deliberate, soothing in the worst way possible.

Kazu didn't need to look to know who it was.

Depression.

She wasn't really there.

But her presence wrapped around him like a second skin, her body half-draped over his own as if she could physically pin him down. Her long, jet-black hair spilled over his chest and across the pillow, strands twisting like vines, clinging to him in a way that felt both suffocating and… comfortable.

Her tattered black dress hung loosely around her thin frame, its fabric frayed at the edges, as if time had worn it down. Her pale fingers—cold, always cold—moved absentmindedly along his arm, as if she were trying to lull him back to sleep.

"There's nothing out there for you anyway."

Kazu stared at the ceiling.

"You say that every day."

Depression hummed, content.

"And every day, I'm right."

Her fingers trailed up to his face, cupping his cheek with an almost motherly tenderness. "No one else stays, Kazu. Just me. I never leave."

He shut his eyes, willing her away, but she only tightened her hold—not physically, but in the way thoughts refused to dissipate.

"I can make it stop, you know," she whispered. "The cycle. The exhaustion. The pain. You just have to let go. Stay here. Don't fight it."

The alarm kept ringing.

Anxiety was already losing it.

"GET UP. GET UP, YOU'RE GOING TO BE LATE!"

A sharp, panicked voice. High-strung, unsteady. Kazu didn't need to turn his head to know she was standing at the door.

Anxiety's small, wiry form was a figment, just like Depression. Yet she paced frantically at the threshold of his mind, a ghost of his own stress manifesting into a voice that would not stop.

Her body language was a constant contradiction—arms crossed tight over her chest like she was bracing for impact, yet her foot tapped against the floor in rapid succession, never still for more than a second.

Her messy bangs fell unevenly across her face, half-hiding her darting eyes. Those eyes—too wide, too alert, never focused on one thing for too long.

She clutched the fabric of her hoodie sleeves, twisting them nervously, her breath shallow, fast, like she had been running from something invisible.

"You're already behind schedule! You should've been up ten minutes ago!"

"It's fine," Depression murmured, shifting closer, wrapping around Kazu's thoughts like a fog. "He can afford one more day."

"He CAN'T," Anxiety snapped, stepping closer, her voice shrill with imagined consequences. "His boss is already mad at him! He's been late every single day this week! What if today's the day they fire him?!"

Kazu sighed, rubbing his temple.

"Then I guess I get fired."

"OH MY GOD, DON'T SAY THAT."

Anxiety physically recoiled, gripping the edge of his mind like it was something tangible.

"Do you understand what happens if you LOSE YOUR JOB?! DO YOU HAVE A BACKUP PLAN?! YOU DON'T, DO YOU?! HOW ARE YOU GOING TO PAY RENT? HOW ARE YOU GOING TO—"

Her voice layered over itself, a relentless static, a shrill ringing that wormed into his brain. It was like standing under a blaring siren, except the siren had a voice, and it only spoke in worst-case scenarios.

Kazu squeezed his eyes shut. It never stopped. It never stopped.

"Ohhh, what if he just didn't go?"

Another voice. Cheerful. Unhinged.

ADHD.

She materialized like a burst of static, her energy an entire solar flare compared to Depression's stagnant gloom and Anxiety's frantic pacing.

She had bright golden hair, messy but not unkempt, wild but in a way that looked intentional. Her hoodie—**neon, obnoxious, oversized—**had one sleeve rolled up and the other hanging loose. Her shorts were absolutely inappropriate for winter, but that never stopped her.

Her golden eyes gleamed, dilated like a cat's spotting something fun to chase.

"Seriously, what if we just… didn't go?"

"That is NOT AN OPTION!" Anxiety shrieked, voice cracking. "HOW ARE YOU EVEN SAYING THAT RIGHT NOW?!"

ADHD rolled onto her back, kicking her legs into the air.

"Okay okay okay—but HEAR ME OUT."

"NO."

"We could totally just call in sick! OR QUIT. OR FAKE OUR OWN DEATH. Just. Disappear. Poof."

Anxiety made a sound between a scream and a strangled gasp.

"THAT IS NOT A SOLUTION. THAT IS A CRISIS."

Depression exhaled softly, rolling onto her side.

"Mmm… Sounds tempting, though."

"NO IT DOESN'T."

Kazu groaned.

"Do any of you ever shut up?"

"DO YOU THINK I WANT TO BE LIKE THIS?!" Anxiety's voice broke.

Her hands gripped her sleeves tighter, her shoulders trembling.

"I hate this. I hate worrying all the time. I hate FEELING LIKE THIS. I just… I just don't want something bad to happen to you, okay?"

For a second, Kazu hesitated.

His eyes flicked to Anxiety.

She was shaking.

ADHD stopped bouncing. Her grin faded just a little.

Even Depression lifted her gaze, her expression unreadable.

For a moment, there was silence.

Then Depression smirked.

"You'll just end up back here anyway."

And just like that, the moment was gone.

Kazu swung his legs over the bed, forcing himself up. His body felt like lead.

"Fine," he muttered. "You win. I'm going."

Depression sighed dramatically.

"You'll be back."

And the worst part?

She was right.

The Routine That Never Changes

Kazu dragged himself to the bathroom, his feet sluggish, his mind already exhausted before the day had even begun.

His reflection in the mirror greeted him with a familiar sight.

Tired eyes. Sunken cheeks. Messy black hair that should have been cut weeks ago. His glasses sat slightly crooked on his nose, and his hoodie—the same one he'd thrown on yesterday and the day before that—hung loose over his frame.

ADHD leaned forward, pressing her face against the mirror.

"Oooooh, look at us! We look like a depressed anime protagonist! Maybe we should dye our hair white and get a cool scar!"

"Or we could just fix our posture," Anxiety muttered, arms crossed tightly.

Kazu reached for his toothbrush, only to pause.

There was only one toothbrush.

ADHD and Anxiety had no reflections.

Kazu frowned, gripping the edge of the sink. He exhaled through his nose and looked away.

It was always like this.

Brushing his teeth was a blur, nothing more than an automatic movement. His mind wasn't even present. It never was.

Depression sat on the edge of the bathtub, legs crossed, chin resting on her palm.

"So, what's the plan today?"

Kazu spit out toothpaste and rinsed his mouth. He didn't answer.

"Oh, right. There isn't one."

Anxiety groaned.

"We're going to work. Like we always do. Because we have to. Because we need to. Because—"

"BORING," ADHD whined, stretching her arms above her head. "What if we called in sick? Fake a fever? OHHH, OR SAY WE GOT HIT BY A CAR—"

"WHY IS YOUR SOLUTION ALWAYS 'FAKE OUR DEATH'?!" Anxiety's voice jumped an octave.

Kazu rubbed his temple.

"Can I get dressed without you three yelling in my ear?"

Anxiety flinched, looking guilty.

ADHD just grinned.

Depression chuckled under her breath, standing up and fading from his view as he turned away.

Getting Ready (or Barely Trying To)

His closet was a graveyard of neutral tones and lazily folded clothes.

Kazu pulled a button-up shirt from a hanger, sniffed it once, deemed it 'good enough,' and threw it on. He barely buttoned it right, the fabric wrinkled but not enough to care.

ADHD flopped onto his bed.

"Bro. You're wearing THAT? Again??"

"It's clean," Kazu replied flatly.

"It's NOT! I literally saw you wear it two days ago!"

"He wore it YESTERDAY," Anxiety corrected.

"OH MY GOD, THAT MAKES IT WORSE!"

"We don't have time to be picky," Anxiety sighed, pacing back and forth.

Depression leaned against the wall, watching.

"It's not like anyone will care what you wear anyway."

That was the first thing anyone had said that actually felt true.

Breakfast (or Lack Thereof)

The kitchen was silent.

His apartment was empty.

No roommates. No pets. Just him.

The fridge door creaked open. A few eggs, half a loaf of bread, a milk carton that was probably expired.

He wasn't hungry.

"We should eat," Anxiety urged, sharp and insistent.

Kazu shut the fridge, exhaling. "No time."

"There's never time," Depression whispered, but the voice was only in his head. It always was.

ADHD's imagined presence bounced in his mind, her energy relentless. "OHH, LET'S EAT ON THE TRAIN! SPEEDRUN BREAKFAST!"

He didn't answer. He couldn't. There was no one there.

Kazu grabbed his bag. He didn't take the banana.

Anxiety's voice curled around his thoughts, pressing in. "Skipping meals again. That's unhealthy."

"It's not like it matters," Depression murmured, but Kazu knew it wasn't real. Just echoes in his brain, projections of his own mind.

He clenched his jaw. He could still hear them, but there was no one speaking. Just him. Always just him.

He slung his bag over his shoulder, stepping toward the door.

"You're used to it," Depression's voice lingered.

He really was.

The Commute – Surrounded but Alone

The subway was packed, but Kazu felt like a ghost.

People stood shoulder to shoulder, but no one made eye contact. No one spoke.

He gripped the metal pole, swaying slightly as the train lurched forward.

ADHD spun in circles, gripping onto the pole like she was on a playground.

"Imagine if the train just derailed right now."

Anxiety gasped, turning pale.

"WHY WOULD YOU EVEN SAY THAT?!"

"I dunno, just thinking out loud!"

"WELL STOP!"

Kazu tuned them out.

His phone buzzed in his pocket.

Work Group Chat – 8:57 AM

Manager: "Where are you? You were supposed to send me the final report yesterday."

Kazu stared at the message.

ADHD leaned over his shoulder.

"IGNORE IT."

Anxiety was already having a crisis.

"DON'T IGNORE IT! RESPOND! SAY YOU'RE ALMOST THERE!"

Depression just smirked.

"Does it really matter?"

Kazu locked his phone.

The Office – A Dead Man Walking

He stepped inside at 9:43 AM.

Late. Again.

No one said anything. No one looked at him.

But he could feel it.

"They're all judging you," Anxiety whispered. "They notice. They remember."

His boss's door was open.

Mr. Sato was already watching him.

Kazu swallowed.

ADHD nudged his side.

"Say something funny. Lighten the mood. Like 'yo boss, what's the weather like up your ass today?'"

"ARE YOU TRYING TO GET US FIRED?!" Anxiety shrieked.

"Maybe he should," Depression said.

Kazu just sighed. He already knew what was coming.

"Kazu."

Mr. Sato's voice was flat. Final.

"Conference room. Now."

Oh.

That wasn't good.

The Meeting – The Fall

The conference room felt too bright. Too sterile.

Mr. Sato didn't sit down.

Just sighed and rubbed his temple like this was exhausting for him.

"Kazu. We've had this conversation before."

Anxiety was already panicking.

"Fix it. Fix it. SAY SOMETHING. APOLOGIZE. BEG IF YOU HAVE TO."

Kazu stared at his hands.

ADHD tapped his shoulder.

"Orrrrr hear me out—what if we just jumped out the window?"

Anxiety looked like she was going to pass out.

Depression just sighed.

"Or he could just sit here and let it happen."

Mr. Sato exhaled.

"We're letting you go."

For a second, Kazu didn't move.

Didn't blink. Didn't react.

ADHD let out a nervous laugh.

"Okay but hear me out—maybe this is a good thing!"

Depression stretched.

"Or maybe it's just inevitable."

Kazu looked up.

Mr. Sato was still talking.

His lips were moving. The words didn't register.

"Oh," Kazu finally said.

"Okay."

The city was loud.

Cars honking, people talking, the distant rumble of a train passing overhead.

Kazu heard none of it.

His thoughts were a tangled mess, his feet moving on instinct, one step after another, carrying him somewhere, nowhere.

Anxiety was spiraling.

"We should have fought harder!" she snapped, her voice high, raw, cracking. "We could have explained, begged, promised to do better! But you just—"

"Accepted it?" Depression finished for her, voice calm. Cold.

Anxiety whipped around, trembling.

"Don't. Don't act like this is fine!"

"It was always going to happen," Depression said, tilting her head, watching Kazu closely.

Anxiety's breath hitched.

"You— You don't know that!"

Depression smiled, slow and knowing.

"But I do."

Something in Kazu's chest tightened.

He inhaled shakily, stuffing his hands into his hoodie pocket, head down.

"It doesn't matter now," he muttered.

"DOESN'T MATTER?!"

Anxiety's voice spiked.

She grabbed his arm, fingers digging in too tight.

"We just lost our job, Kazu! Our only source of income! WE NEED TO FIX THIS!"

ADHD wasn't grinning anymore.

She hopped from foot to foot, shifting her weight restlessly, her movements erratic.

"Okay okay okay, but hear me out! Maybe this is, like, a GOOD thing? Maybe we find a new job! Or— or move to another country! OH, OR—"

"THERE IS NO PLAN, ADHD!"

Anxiety's voice cracked.

Her chest rose and fell too fast, her fingers twitching.

"There is no backup, no safety net, NOTHING. We are screwed. We are—"

"Done?"

Depression stepped closer.

"Would that really be so bad?"

Anxiety jerked back like she'd been slapped.

Her breathing was ragged, frantic.

"D-Don't say that," she stammered.

"Why not?"

Depression was unshaken. Unmoved.

"We've been running on empty for months. Years, even."

Her fingers trailed over Kazu's shoulder, featherlight but unbearably heavy.

"Maybe it's time to stop trying."

Kazu's heart clenched.

"No—no, no, no!" Anxiety clutched her head, nails digging into her scalp. "We can't think like that! We have to keep going! We have to—"

Her breath hitched.

She was on the verge of hyperventilating.

ADHD was no longer bouncing.

She rubbed her arms, shifting uncomfortably.

"Guys, this isn't fun anymore."

A Heartbeat Too Loud

Kazu's hands felt numb.

His vision blurred at the edges.

His own breathing sounded wrong.

Why does my chest feel so tight?

Anxiety was losing it.

"Something's wrong!" she gasped, gripping his shirt, frantic, terrified. "Are you okay?! Are you—"

Kazu stumbled.

His pulse thundered in his ears.

ADHD was snapping her fingers in his face.

"Helloooo? Boss? You still with us?"

His lungs locked.

Something was crushing his ribs.

He couldn't breathe.

Couldn't—

"KAZU!"

Anxiety's shrieking voice barely registered.

His knees buckled.

The world tilted.

Everything was too bright, too sharp, too loud.

This is it.

His heart seized.

The city disintegrated.

The honking cars, the blinding billboards, the suffocating sidewalks—gone.

Anxiety screamed.

ADHD laughed hysterically.

Depression smiled.

"Finally."

And then—

Darkness.

…

…

…

…

A single breath. Sharp. Shaky. Cold.

Kazu's body jerked.

Something pushed down on his chest.

Not heavy. Not suffocating. But frantic, desperate.

A voice.

Too close. Too fast. Too loud.

"Kazu! Kazu, wake up! Please wake up!"

Anxiety.

She was practically on top of him, shaking him violently, her wide, panic-stricken eyes searching his face for any sign of life.

Kazu gasped.

The air felt thick, unnatural. He inhaled sharply, his throat dry, his limbs cold.

Where…?

His head throbbed. His vision was a swirl of colors, of distorted shapes that refused to make sense.

This wasn't—

This wasn't home.

The sky above him was wrong.

Deep, shifting hues of muted purples and grays, like clouds were constantly forming and dissolving in slow motion. It felt close, like a ceiling, but impossibly vast.

The ground beneath him was solid, yet uneven. Dirt, but not Earth's dirt. A surface that felt too smooth in some places, too jagged in others.

His heart pounded.

Anxiety was still clutching him, shaking him, talking too fast for him to process.

"I-I thought you weren't breathing! You collapsed! I didn't know what to do! You just—just—"

Her words blurred together, her hands gripping his shirt like if she let go, he'd disappear again.

Kazu blinked.

Then blinked again.

This wasn't real.

This couldn't be real.

Could it?

A shadow loomed over him.

He turned his head.

And his mind shattered.

The Impossible – His Demons Made Flesh

There they were.

All of them.

Anxiety, still gripping his shirt, her face pale with worry, her hands trembling.

ADHD, standing a few feet away, her eyes wide with excitement, her golden hair almost glowing under the eerie sky.

Depression, standing tall and still, her arms crossed, her tired eyes watching him with a quiet sort of patience.

They weren't voices.

They weren't hallucinations.

They were here.

They were real.

ADHD tilted her head, grinning.

"Hey, boss! You finally woke up!"

Kazu sucked in a sharp breath.

His mind rebelled against the logic.

No.

No, no, no—

This wasn't possible.

This wasn't real.

It couldn't be.

…Could it?