Chapter Text
It was a quiet day.
The kind of quiet where, if one were to step outside, one would hear nothing but the gentle hum of the wind. No aggressive city sounds, no car screeches, no voices or yells, no phones ringing or emergency calls. Just… the wind. Yukio liked those days. It was no lie to himself or anyone who observed him for two minutes that the teenager was a stressful mess, even during his best moments, but these days were the few exceptions where he could simply stand still, and listen to nothing. Thinking about nothing. For once.
He stepped outside the old dorm, and took a moment by the door to listen carefully, smiling when he realized it was one of those times. He didn’t have anything on his schedule… for now anyways. He could take a minute or two.
But, as he leaned on his forearms by the railing overlooking the impressive view of True Cross Academy they had from their spot, his ears caught something… carried by the wind… It wasn’t an annoying sound in any way, in fact, it was rather… gentle. And familiar.
“Mmmh, mh mh mmmh, mh mh mmmh, mh mmmmmh…”
He slowly turned back, eyes searching.
“Mmmmh, mh mh mmmh, mh mmmmh, mmmmmh…”
The humming was that of someone who wasn’t great at singing. The notes were slightly off-key, the rhythm a bit off. Anyone with a musical ear would cringe at them. But… Yukio knew this melody. It rang. And rang. Deep inside his innermost memories, like the toll of bells and the echoes of whispers in a chapel. It smelled of incense and old wooden benches. And suddenly, he was back as a six-year old, standing with his twin brother in a choir, singing songs for their church as best they could. His brother couldn’t sing very well, but he did it wholeheartedly, and Yukio had done his best to imitate him. He couldn’t sing well either, so they sang off-key together, much to the irritation of the other choir members.
“Mmh, mmmmmh, mh mh mmmh… Mmmmh, mh mh…”
His eyes looked up. His brother was sitting on the roof of the building, legs dangling down, head towards the clouds. Humming softly to himself.
Just like him, not a care in the world. Nothing on his shoulders. For once.
Yukio stood very still for a moment, before settling his back against the railing behind him to listen. The silence was good, but… this was nice, too.