Work Text:
(i)
“Are you done yet?” Ash fiddles with his collar as he feels deft, familiar fingers brushing through the thin fabric draped over him, tying and uncoiling the obi around his waist again and again and again, because Ash, why on earth can’t you stand still for a second?
“You are the one who is painfully slow, old man.” Ash grins when he hears Eiji cursing under his breath.
Truth to be told, Eiji is right. Ash really cannot stand still. But then again, he cannot help it. He can feel something buzzing through his veins— like water set free after being ensnared stagnant for aeons.
He can smell the citrus of the aftershave Eiji always slathers over his face after unreservedly tormenting his skin with a razor. For someone whose hands skim over the purples and blues of the gashes and bruises of others like the most demure of all butterflies, Eiji sure is pretty clumsy when he is looking after himself. Ash will have to dab some witch hazels onto the cuts snaking over Eiji’s cheeks later— one of the sole instances when he is the one tending to the other boy.
He can hear the stove crackling in the kitchen, where Eiji’s father cautiously turns over his Okumura-Family-Special Takoyaki in his moulder pan, making sure it’s a luscious golden-brown through and through as his wife hands him minced vegetables to garnish it with.
“Hiroko-chan! Can you lend me the blue earrings you got from Tokyo last year? Pretty please?” Eiji’s sister has friends over, the entire house is reverberating with their vivacious chatter as they argue over what hairpins will go best with their yukata, and the reason why none of them managed to get a perfect score in their last math test.
The tumultuous commotion engulfing them is a rioting chaos, and Ash can’t discern one voice from another, let alone make out anything that is going on outside the house. But here’s the thing— he doesn’t have to.
Not anymore.
There is no soul furtively lying low in the shadows, waiting to pounce on him the moment he flutters his eyes shut. There are no silvered bullets to be wary of, lancing through the thick air like gliding eagles. There are no hideous, vile hands that make his bones tremble like grass blades in a storm, no acrid odours that make his stomach knot a million times over.
There is nothing, nothing, nothing.
“Nothing?” Ash gasps as Eiji interrupts him all of a sudden. “What are you talking about?”
“It’s nothing, I—” Ash splutters, “I— are you done yet?”
At that, Eiji gives him a smile that makes his eyes gleam like gilded honey drops. “As a matter of fact, yes.” He beams.
Ash turns to Eiji’s oval mirror, taking a few steps back to get a better view of his entire outfit. The pale green yukata shrouds him like tender spring leaves, stopping a few inches short of his ankles. The obi fastened around his waist echoes its verdant hue, festooned with identical stripes of forest green. Ash feels strangely light, as if he has nothing but veneer of velvety water wrapped around him.
Everything feels strange; but it’s so, so much better than all that he has been forced to become familiar with, ever since he breathed his first.
“Do you like it?” Eiji asks, as his eyes meet Ash’s own— both the pairs transfixed on the mirror. It is strangely intimate. Ash looks away, a rose-hued tint suffusing his cheeks. “I do,” he whispers. “Thank you, Eiji.”
Eiji takes a step forward, before resting his chin on Ash’s shoulder. The mellow pink of his yukata harmonises seamlessly with the cool green of his, like flushed summer flowers framed by glossy leaves. “We look good,” he says softly.
“Yes,” Ash agrees, his mouth curving into a smile that reaches his eyes. “We do.”
(ii)
As they weave through the bustling crowd, Eiji’s sister wanders far off with her horde of friends. Eiji cups his hands around his mouth, his voice booming as he yells in her direction. “Don’t stray too far from us, Hiroko-chan! And stick close to your friends! Oh, and text me if you need extra money!”
“Sheesh, I get it, Nii-san!” She calls at the top of her voice. “Besides you should be grateful I am leaving you two alone!” she adds, winking at Ash, before sticking her tongue out at her brother and running off.
“That little—!” Eiji breathes hotly. His petulant pout is insanely endearing. Ash chuckles softly. He will have to thank Hiroko later.
“Relax.” He drapes an arm around Eiji’s shoulder. “Aren’t you going to show me around?”
“Ah!” Eiji’s countenance brightens. “That’s right. Let’s go!” He tugs at Ash’s sleeve, pulling him into the sea of people meandering in many a direction.
It has been half a year since Ash set foot in this closely-knit town. Izumo is a place where every family is acquainted with every other. It stands in stark contrast to the New York City that Ash has known until now, where faces from every crevice of the world can be caught sight of, should you care to look.
As they amble about, they get greeted by people whom they know by name. Ash can carry out a basic conversation in Japanese now, thanks to Eiji’s zealous assistance and the innumerable online classes he pours over for hours everyday. Eiji stops to pat the head of a child or two, and the old lady who lives next door to the Okumura house coerces them into scarfing down her latest invention— steamed chocolate buns. Ash’s tastebuds don’t quite agree with cloyingly sweet preparations; but this gentle rebuking of you should eat more, son is imbued with a honey that is a balm for his heart.
But more than anything else, the proud sheen that glazes Eiji’s eyes whenever Ash strikes conversation with these people in his language is what makes him feel like he is floating atop a gossamer cloud.
Ash turns to Eiji after they part from the lady. There it is, that smile. “What?” Ash feigns annoyance.
“Nothing,” Eiji sings. After a pause, he adds,“Let’s catch goldfish!”
After twenty minutes of flailing his wash paper poi hopelessly about the water, Ash surmises one thing: he is terrible at goldfish scooping.
Eiji laughs. “How can someone be bad at kingyo sukui ? I mean, it is a children’s game!”
Ash furrows his brows. “Shut up, okay? I am trying.” Splash. Beads of water splatter onto his face, but he hasn’t made any progress still. “They’re just so— fast,” he mumbles.
Eiji clicks his tongue. “Right, go ahead and blame the poor fish.” He bends down, placing his right hand on Ash’s own. “Watch and learn.”
Eiji’s nimble fingers guide Ash’s hand he pulls his poi through the water. He tries to track the movement, but loses himself in the sound of his heart hammering against his ribcage. Why, why, why—
“See, we already have three!” Eiji exclaims.
Ash looks down. Three goldfish, with their scales splattered with all the hues of a sunset, twirl about in the water in his bowl. They are pretty. It strikes Ash that he has never had a pet before.
“The rule is to keep scooping up goldfish until the bowl is broken,” Eiji explains. “But this is enough for today, don’t you think?”
Ash nods. The stall-owner pours the water along with the fish into a transparent pouch and fastens a red thread at the top.
On their way to the temple, they stop for some yakitori and candied apples. “Hey Ash, try this!” Eiji shoves a spoonful of his crushed ice into Ash’s mouth. The saccharine syrup melts on Ash’s tongue. He wonders if Eiji’s lips would taste the same now. Not again, he reprimands himself, why can’t you think of anything else, anything—
“Wait up, Takashi-kun!” Eiji leaves Ash’s side to stride over swiftly to a young robust man who is carrying a large box in his arms. He whispers something in his ear, and the man nods, giving him a smile before leaving.
“Who was that?” Ash asks, when Eiji returns.
“An old classmate. We were also in the same pole vaulting team at school.”
The mention of those three syllables— pole vaulting— makes Eiji’s eyes dim slightly. Ash’s heart shrivels in his chest. They need a distraction—
“I want to try that!” he cries out, pointing at a stall where people are shooting at an assemblage of colourful paraphernalia with rifles.
Eiji smirks, the glimmer returning to his eyes. “Want to make up for your amazing goldfish scooping, or what?”
Ash elbows him. “Just let me do it, okay?”
“Of course,” Eiji says, “but this different from what you are used to. The bullets are actually corks, alright?”
“I don’t mind.” Ash smiles.
Ash is handed one of those rifles when they go there. It is light-weighted in a way that is alien to him. “Aim at the prize you want. If you strike it, you win it. You have three tries,” a man explains.
Ash scans the rows stacked with many-hued items, before he spots something that catches his eye. It is situated at the farthest corner of the top-most shelf. An insurmountable feat for an average person. But Ash knows a thing or two about shooting impeccably at his aim. Perfect.
One shot, and it goes down.
“Congratulations!” the man says, as the small crowd surrounding them breaks into applause. “You own the grand prize on the first go.”
Eiji doesn’t look surprised. “If there’s anyone who could win it, it’s him,” he tells anyone who would listen. Ash’s heart swells. When has he felt so happy after firing a gun before?
The man hands over a large packet to Ash.“Oh wait, Ash, is that—I thought you hated NoriNori?”
“I do. But somebody is obsessed with it.”
Eiji’s eyes widen as realisation dawns on him. “For me?” he asks, a little breathlessly.
“Yes, your highness.” Ash has intended for his tone to sound frivolous, but it only comes out as a feeble one.
“Thank you, Ash,” Eiji says, a demure smile gracing his lips. Ash’s heart flutters. Thank you, stuffed NoriNori toy. Maybe I don’t hate you anymore.
“You still have two more tries left,” the man reminds Ash, breaking him out of his trance.
“Oh, right—”
“Actually,” Eiji interrupts, “Ash, I need to take you somewhere—now. Can you please keep this for us until we return? We will be back before you close.” Eiji hands over the giant stuffed toy to the man.
“Eiji, where are we—”
Eiji covers Ash’s mouth with his palm. “Do you trust me?”
Ash places his hand over Eiji’s, bringing it down to his heart. He breathes in deeply. “Of course I do. You know that.”
Eiji smiles. “Let’s go, then, Ash.”
Eiji takes him to the bottom of the temple staircase— a place which is empty right now. “Shouldn’t we join the crowd?” Ash asks.
“Wait, Ash. You will see.”
Silence falls.
Ash hears it—hears them— before he sees them. They splatter, hiss and crackle, spraying across the inky empyrean in rings of incandescent glitter. Fireworks.
They flitter about in the sky like dazzling shattered glass, dipped in stardust of every hue one can imagine. Ash has seen fireworks before, but this is different. Different. Ash cannot fathom in what way, exactly; but he doesn’t need to. “They are beautiful,” he whispers.
When Eiji doesn’t respond, Ash turns to him to find him typing something swiftly on his phone. He pockets his phone when he notices Ash’s curious gaze on him. “Sorry about that.” He smiles. “Hey, look at the sky, not at me! You will miss the best part!”
“The best part,” Ash repeats in a high-pitched voice, mimicking Eiji. You are the best part.
And that his when he sees it— the letters painting the sky. It takes Ash a few seconds too many to make them out, trying to recall the kanji he had memorised over all these months.
There it is, seared onto the empyrean with the guts of a ruptured kaleidoscope: 永遠. Eien.
Forever.
“Eiji.” Ash’s voice is barely above a whisper. Eiji takes Ash’s hand in his own. Their fingers intertwine clumsily, and Ash can feel the summer breeze sweeping every constellation in the universe into the space between their palms. White-hot, and pulsating. Like a third heart beating steadily, ruby and azure.
“Aslan,” Eiji says, slowly and carefully— like the name cascading down his tongue is something very, very precious.
“I love you,” both of them sputter at once.
The two boys dissolve into a peal of euphonious laughter.
Eiji tucks a stray strand of gilded hair behind Ash’s ear. “You already knew that, didn’t you?”
“You knew it too.” Ash pokes the tiny dimple that appears on Eiji’s left cheek. It is almost unnoticeable— but not for him.
Eiji nods, before bringing his face closer to Ash’s. “May I?” he whispers, swiping his thumb gently over Ash’s cheekbone, holding his face like it has never been held before.
Ash nods. “Yes.”
Eiji leans in, and their lips collide like falling stars. Their fusing heartbeats drown the pandemonium of the fireworks.
Sugar trickles down Ash’s throat, and he smiles against Eiji’s lips.
“What is it?” Eiji whispers.
“Nothing, it’s just— your lips taste like the strawberry syrup from that crushed ice— just like how I imagined.” Ash pauses. “Wait, no, I didn’t—”
“So all this while, you had been thinking about what my lips taste like?” Eiji smirks.
“ Shut up— ”
“It’s okay,” Eiji says softly. “We don’t have to imagine anymore.”
Ash smiles. He lays his head on Eiji’s shoulder, who holds him close.
A wave of moonlight washes over them like a silver-plated kiss. The lanterns floating above their heads, brimming with molten sunlight, are a reminder of the new day that is yet to come.
One day, and another, and another, and another.
This time, they don’t have to part. Not anymore.
A pair of stars that carve a constellation of their own— etched onto the cosmos, standing firm today, tomorrow and for every day to come—
Forever.
