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Gentaro wakes up crying.
It’s not quiet or peaceful, in the way one might wake from a bad dream and find their pillows soaked, silent tears running down their cheeks in rivulets; he opens his eyes to the sight of a blurry ceiling, sobs being wrangled out of him violently as his chest heaves from the effort. His entire face feels uncomfortably sticky with tears, and for a few seconds he finds himself unable to even breathe. It feels as if something has their fingers plunged into the depths of his ribcage, pulling, trying to break him apart and it hurts, it hurts—
In the distance, he hears laughter. Two voices overlapping in their cadence. It’s warm. Familiar. The tangled knot buried in his chest loosens ever so slightly.
Ah, he thinks. Dice and Ramuda.
With that, he’s able to settle enough to recognize that he’s in their shared bedroom. The last thing he remembers from yesterday is staying up late to work on his latest manuscript. He must have fallen asleep and then… then?
More noise. More voices. Gentaro’s thoughts feel disjointed and hazy as he shivers against the covers, just now realizing how cold he is. How it still feels like he’s floating in this in-between state of reality and somewhere far away. He clenches his hands into fists and tries to feel more like he’s in his body, and frowns with only mild disdain when it doesn’t work.
Ah. Whatever. Gentaro then closes his eyes, trying to recall the details of whatever nightmare left him in such a state, but already the images are fading from his mind. All that he’s left to work with is an aching feeling of loneliness, permeating so deeply he feels it engraved into his bones—and he shivers again, the feeling foreign and janky. There’s a part of him that understands that this feeling is a lie; that in the same way the sky is always blue, and the ocean is full of salt, Gentaro Yumeno is no longer alone. Not in the way he was only two years ago, haunting the halls of his empty apartment while waiting for a familiar face that would never return. Dreaming of the day he could show him everything he’s done in his name, for his name—indulging fake-scenarios of reunion and delusion in the realm of make-believe.
Now he has Ramuda and Dice by his side, grounding him, loving him, and if he went out right at this moment, he’s sure that he’d be held until his trembling heart calmed. Until their touches filled the empty bits of his heart and made him feel whole. But his body still seems to be holding onto those memories of isolation; self-destructive solitude is a muscle memory at this point, and flexing that ache comes easier than he’d like to admit.
To go out and demand to be cared for, when he’s already cared for so much—to dare and feel lonely when Ramuda and Dice always go out of their way to let him know that he’s important, hold him close during the night, remember his favorite foods, bring him tea when he’s trying to write…
How utterly, horribly selfish of him.
Ramuda and Dice have given him space for a home, but all they’ve done is let in a ghost that haunts the halls with a vague impression of self. If they stripped away the layers of his clothes, unraveled every single lie that he’s told, tore apart the seams of his carefully crafted identity—would they still hold him dearly?
Maybe one day he’ll really disappear, and it’ll be like he never existed to begin with. He’s only a cheap imitation of the original, after all. A disappearing act would be easy.
All he needs to do is wake up from this dream he’s created.
“Gentaro?” A voice breaks through the murky depths of his thoughts, and it takes a second to realize the voice is directed towards him. That it’s his own name being called. That the caller sounds worried.
Somehow, he’s made it to their living room. An action he’s made out of instinct, or perhaps out of desperation— either way, he feels prickles of guilt stabbing at him from under his skin as he stares. Nestled in the couch is Ramuda and Dice, sitting together while some movie quietly plays on the television. There’s a bowl of popcorn between, both still in their sleepwear.
“Are you okay?” Ramuda continues, the same time Dice squints at him and loudly says, “You’ve been crying.”
“…I suppose so,” Gentaro murmurs, although to which inquiry he’s replying to, he’s not sure. He feels uncertain in how he should hold himself, suddenly— should he move in between them? Ask for permission to sit by them first? Go back under the covers until he melted away completely? He feels the urge to hide, rising like a tidal wave as his entire body tenses.
Dice answers his indecision for him, getting up and gently bringing him to the couch with a light touch. “I’ll go make you some breakfast,” he says, voice soft and worried.
“Until then, you can have cuddle time with Ramuda~! You’re sooo lucky that you get to spend time with someone this cute!” And Ramuda’s words are bright and cheerful, but the way he grabs onto Gentaro’s arms and brings him down, leaning into his side, feels intentional. Deliberate. As if he’s afraid of startling him.
There’s a moment where Dice and Ramuda share a look, and then the former goes off to their kitchen. He’s been picking up a few basic recipes so he should be okay—but before Gentaro can think about it too deeply, Ramuda rests his chin on his shoulder. The weight is comforting, and he finds himself melting against it.
“Hi,” Ramuda says, staring at him with wide eyes.
“Hi,” Gentaro says back, attempting to stretch his lips into a smile, weak as it may be.
The movie is still playing in the background. The volume must have been lowered in consideration for the sleeping Gentaro, and something in him twinges at the thought. For a moment, they both quietly watch; it’s some sort of rom-com, which likely means that Ramuda’s the one that picked it out (Dice liked superhero movies, and Gentaro liked to spoil them while watching. Not because he had seen the ending before, but because it was all so predictable, much to Dice’s annoyance.)
Slowly, with the noise of Dice humming in the kitchen, with Ramuda’s constant and casual presence beside him, Gentaro feels a part of him… settle. Solidify. Less like a phantom that’s haunting his own body, and more like a real person with flesh and blood and sinew between bones.
Eventually it’s Ramuda who breaks the silence, eyes focused on the movie as he leans in closer, ears resting on his chest as if listening for a heartbeat. “Do you want to talk about it?”
Gentaro swallows, throat dry, as he tries to remember once more.
I think— I think I dreamt that you left me. That I disappeared and nothing changed in the world. That even my words became nothing but dust on empty book pages.
That you two broke me apart and looked into the cavity of my chest and found nothing but empty lies.
“Just a nightmare. I’ve already forgotten what it was about,” Gentaro lies once more, hating how easily it falls from his lips.
At that, Ramuda frowns, but doesn’t ask him anything more. Instead he comes up, and for a second Gentaro, inexplicably, tenses.
All he ends up doing though, is push away his bangs and kiss him gently on the forehead. “If you say so! But… you know that Ramuda-chan’s always willing to lend an ear, hm? And Dice too!” Then deeper, softer. With a touch that borders on reverence. “You’re here with us, Gentaro. And you’re safe. And we loooove you!”
I just want you to hold me, Gentaro thinks; a secret truth whispered in between his every heartbeat and let out as his hand clutches onto Ramuda’s. Please, please, please, his every shuddering breath is a desperate cry, please don’t let me go. He begins to tremble as Ramuda intertwines their fingers together, eyes crinkled as he rubs his thumb gently against the back of his hand. And finally, Gentaro feels that erratic urge to hide for forever, to test the limits of his opacity, melt away.
It doesn’t matter, he thinks—it doesn’t matter if he disappears, because Ramuda and Dice will always find him again.
They sit in comfortable silence until Dice ambles his way back to the living room, looking far too excited as he hides what Gentaro assumes is a plate behind his back. They rarely let Dice cook, after all—not since he accidentally caused the fire alarm to go off while attempting to make “surprise toast,” although he swears he’s learned his lesson since—and Gentaro can’t help but tense in both amusement and trepidation.
“Breakfast is served,” Dice announces proudly, presenting a plate of omurice with dramatic flourish.
And on top of the omurice, there’s a smiley face drawn with ketchup— or, well, what Gentaro assumes is a smiley face. By the border of the plate is a splatter of red, as if the bottle had exploded upon opening and Dice forgot to wipe away the evidence. On the egg itself is an extremely lopsided circle that encloses the vague impression of two dots and a line, and maybe some hair strands?
It’s cute… in the sense that it’s absolutely horrible.
He doesn’t even realize he’s laughing until he hears Ramuda laughing too, the sound light and charming, the both of them trembling with delight as they stare at the abomination.
“Oh my god, Dice, it’s— it’s so ugly,” Ramuda chokes out, and Gentaro actually feels tears coming to his eyes as he tries to hide his giggles behind his hand.
Normally, Dice would be spluttering at this point about how they were being cruel and horrible and mean. But when Gentaro looks up to meet his gaze, he’s met with Dice’s relieved smile instead.
“There ya are,” Dice says, not a flicker of hurt in his voice as he leans in to kiss him on the nose, before plopping the dish onto his lap. It’s all so horribly sweet and chaste that finally, it feels as if the remaining, unsettled bits of his self have snapped back into place. Dice sits down on the opposite side of Ramuda so that Gentaro’s sandwiched between the two.
And here, being so close to Ramuda and Dice that he can feel their warmth, a plate of food lovingly prepared for him on his lap, a silent understanding that he needs their physical touch to feel grounded, safe, is so much more than he deserves.
But still, every day, no matter how Gentaro feels about what’s deserved or not, they tell him that it’s okay to feel lost and to need their help. That they’ll love away all the lingering ghosts of his past that haunt him.
Here, in between their caring hearts, three shooting stars all on the same path, side by side and forever a posse—It feels right, good, fills him with a warmth and—
It feels like—
Like he’s finally made it home.
“Gen-chan’s here!” Ramuda echoes, once again leaning in to rest his head on Gentaro’s shoulders, Dice staring at his face expectantly, earnestly.
“Yes,” Gentaro agrees, bringing a forkful of omurice to his lips. “I’m home.”