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Nene comes to in the dark.
She gasps awake, flailing her arms, blind with panic, while her heart tries to beat out of her chest with fear. Her skin is cold, clammy, her hair clinging to her face with sweat.
The nightmare is a fresh wound in her mind. The haunting red of blood and the dangerous glint of a butcher knife are the only real thing for an horrifying, unending second.
Then, the dream fades away. The only thing left is Kou-kun’s calm, regular breathing in the darkness beside her, and her own laboured breaths, too loud in the otherwise quiet room.
Or, well, bathroom.
It slowly comes back to her - how Hanako-kun had insisted they have a sleepover all together, and how they sneaked back into the school with pillows and bed sheets, playing a dumb board game Kou had brought along until they couldn’t stay awake any more.
It had been fun. Nene couldn’t remember the last time they had spent time together without pressing matters to attend to, or the last time she laughed so much.
She almost starts giggling thinking about it.
It was only a stupid joke on the back of the board game box, but it was already around two in the morning and it had the three of them cracking up as if it was comedy of the finest kind. She had laughed until her stomach hurt and she was breathless with it, until her face was red and she had happy tears streaming down her cheeks.
And then she had looked up, still chuckling a little, and Hanako had been looking right back at her, and the expression on his face had her melt with tenderness, even as she tried to hide it.
Sometimes, when he thinks no one - not even her - is going to know, Hanako looks at her with something in his eyes that makes her chest feel tight, and warms her as if she’s standing in sunlight on a spring day.
He was smiling, too, a smile as sweet as summer peaches which he blamed on the joke. He had averted his eyes when he had met her own, pretending the blooming roses on his cheeks were only a trick of the light.
Yashiro had been grateful her face was already red, her own blushing going unnoticed.
She flops down on the makeshift bed, blinking rapidly to try and get used to the darkness enough to see. By the time she can make out the faint outlines of furniture and mirrors, sleep is already a faraway possibility, lost in the memory of his smile and in the residual uneasiness from the nightmare.
It’s a beautiful night. From the tall bathroom windows, Nene can see the clear sky, and the full moon shining her cold, serene silver light on the world below, the silence perfect and unbroken as you can only hear late at night.
She feels almost guilty when her steps echo in the hallways while she makes her way outside to take a walk. She’s alone, wooden floorboards creaking with her footsteps, particles of dust floating in the cones of bright moonlight flooding in from the windows.
The old entrance door is closed, and for a moment she’s afraid it might be locked, too. She tries to open it, pushing and pulling, the polished wood smooth under her hand. At first it doesn’t seem to budge, the solid wood too heavy.
She’s already ready to give up when it eventually moves, slowly, letting in a chilly breeze that has her shivering a little in her dressing gown.
Nene forgets all about it as soon as she’s outside, eyes widening in surprise.
It feels as if looking through a silvery glass, every colour muted and made into something new, the delicate tint of moonlight painting flowers in shades of blue and grey and white. The dewdrops resting on petals and blades of grass and leaves gleam like the purest pearls, the sound of the wind blowing through the branches just like a familiar voice calling to her.
And in the middle of it all, looking up at the moon under a canopy of leaves, stands Hanako.
The scene is lovely as a painting.
His awestruck expression makes her heartbeat quicken, every single romance story she ever read passing through her mind. And yet, this feels nothing like what they describe. There are no butterflies, no violins, no fireworks.
Only the moonlight-bathed garden, and his smile, and the sweetest pain she’s ever felt.
It makes her throat tight with yearning, every word she could never say fighting to come out, her heart aching with longing.
It’s a feeling so simple, so easy to feel, that she isn’t prepared for the force with which it hits her.
Nene just wants to hold his hand.
She’s not sure for how long she stays there, still as a statue, just looking at him from afar. Long enough the sudden tumult of her feelings calms down enough to let her breathe smoothly again, and long enough to gather the courage to walk up to him.
Hanako seems too enraptured with the sky to hear her coming. She feels a smile pulling at the corner of her lips, something small and fond, endearment blooming warm in her chest.
He notices her only when she’s already close enough their shoulders almost brush together. He startles, then, letting out a surprised sound Nene never heard before.
«Yashiro!» he says, his tone caught somewhere between surprise and delight at her sudden appearance. It quickly gives way to something else entirely, an uncharacteristic hesitation in the way he holds himself, «You couldn’t sleep?» he asks, the words gentle enough to not disturb the perfect quiet of the garden around them.
She nods, shuddering at the memory of the nightmare. She isn’t looking at him, still distracted by the way the moonlight brings out details invisible during the day. When she does look up, though, it’s there again.
A soft look on his face, his nose a little scrunched up and his eyes smiling as much as his mouth, a tenderness so palpable in his expression Nene feels like crying at the thought it is only hers to see.
He’s so close to her that she could feel his breathing, the warmth of his body next to hers. She can’t, of course.
And yet.
He might not have any of those things for her to feel, but Yashiro doesn’t care.
The truth is, in the end, that she will never hold anything as dear as the way he ever so carefully moves his hand towards hers, pretending not to notice when she shifts closer, interlacing them as if it’s the most natural thing she’s ever done.
In a sense, it is. Whether it is to run away from danger or it is just to tease her, they spend a lot of time holding hands.
The cold of his skin, and how well his fingers fit together with hers, and how he squeezes just a little bit to make sure she’s watching the sky as intently as he is - her heart flutters in her throat as if it’s everything lovely in the world.
She could stay like this forever, she thinks. Pretending to stargaze and observing him instead, the pure childlike glee on his face while he points out constellations to her and he tells her all about their names, and the stars they’re made of, and their story.
And then Hanako stops. It’s abrupt, and if Nene hadn’t already been focused on him she would be now.
He’s still gazing up at the sky, but there’s something different. There’s a longing, an unnamed emotion in his expression that she doesn’t quite recognize.
Then he turns his head, focusing his full attention on her, and she’s too preoccupied with not blushing herself silly to dwell on it.
«The moon is beautiful, isn’t it?» he says, then. At first, she doesn’t register the words. And when she does, Nene stops breathing completely.
It’s everything she’s ever wished for. And it’s real.
No supernatural at work, no schemes, no plans. It’s just the two of them, standing in a garden as wonderful as a painting, his face bathed in the muted hues of the moonlight, and an old-fashioned confession he knows she knows about.
It’s everything she always dreamed of, and nothing like it at the same time. It's the most precious thing he could ever offer her.
She refuses to cry, but she can still feel her eyes water a little, her cheeks burning with happiness. He’s squeezing her hand so hard it almost hurts, and the twinkling stars shine through the vague translucency of him like millions of fireflies, and it’s perfect.
It really is.
«I can die happily, now.» she answers, and her voice comes out so quiet she’s almost afraid he didn’t hear.
Except then he’s smiling at her, the softness of before forgotten in favour of the brightest grin she’s ever seen on him.
And she’s laughing as he twirls her around, and it doesn’t matter if they disturb the dewdrops on the grass, and life or death have nothing to do with it at all.
Hanako kisses her under the silver moonlight, gentle as a feather, his lips cold as winter and sweet as everything sweet in the world, and she doesn’t know why she ever wished for anything else.
(They do end up waking Kou up when they go back inside, once the night air starts getting to her.
He doesn’t need more than three seconds to notice the looks on their faces, and no more than five to understand. That night they don’t get any more sleep.
It’s perfect that way.)