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For the fifth time that week, Yuuta steps aboard the Limitless.
It’s woven into his routine: wake up, get ready, change, eat breakfast, and catch the train. Luckily for Yuuta, the Limitless train station is a short walk from his apartment, close enough to where he can get from his bed to the train in six minutes if he speedwalks. He finds a seat if he can, although he’s fine with standing, and he stares out the window watching the city fly by. His favorite part of the trip is when the train rides across the bridge and over the bay below. Yuuta quite enjoys the view of the water as he cruises along, the morning sun gently skipping across the rippling water.
He takes the Hollow Purple Line to work every morning. It’s a twenty five minute ride to the office he works at. Yuuta listens to music and tries to drown out the other people on the train all trying to get to work as well. His routine is down to a science, and he almost never misses the train.
But today, Yuuta walks to a different level of the station, to a different platform than the one usually does. He stuffs his right hand in his pocket, fingers curling around the edge of the pocketknife buried within. And as the train pulls up to his station, he steps into a different car than the one he’d grown so accustomed to taking.
For the second time in his life, he takes the Infinity Line.
Yuuta slides into a seat near the window, relishing in the car’s emptiness. He glances left, then glances right– he has the entire car to himself. The Hollow Purple Line is always filled to bursting during the morning, but only a handful of people are even aware of the Infinity Line’s existence. All who take the Infinity Line are either lonely, longing, grieving, or lost.
Yuuta’s not proud to admit he’s in that group.
He sits, tapping away at his phone with one hand to select a song, as the train jolts forward. The train leaves the station, and Yuuta leans back, music humming in his ears, when the Infinity Line’s true nature takes form.
It starts with a flash of purple.
No, not just purple. A light shade of lavender, for just a brief moment in Yuuta’s mind. He perks up, looking around, scrambling to find meaning in the flicker. Finding nothing except empty seats and filtered sunlight through the windows, Yuuta pulls out his printed ticket, a small credit-card sized piece of thick cardstock with multicolored stripes, to read the fine print.
“Welcome aboard the Limitless! The Infinity Line is different from Red, Blue, and Hollow Purple! This line goes on a very special route: the Infinity Line is a journey through memories– past, present, and future! Perfect for people who are struggling or searching for answers~ And don’t worry about getting to your stop. The Infinity Line follows every single other route simultaneously, hence the name! No matter where you are, we will take you where you need to go! :D”
Yuuta lets a sigh slip from his lips and pockets the ticket, feeling the weight of the knife in his pocket. Leaning back again, he looks out the window, watching the buildings and trees scroll by as the train speeds ahead.
Then he sees something new– a smile he could recognize anywhere burns into his memory.
Rika.
She smiles at him, chestnut hair flowing in the invisible wind, bright eyes filled to the brim with excitement, youth, love. Her arms are outstretched, as if in asking for an embrace.
Or perhaps… in an invitation to join her.
Yuuta gulps.That’s why I chose this train route, isn’t it? I couldn’t do it the first time…I couldn’t bear it. Am I ready now?
With trembling fingers, Yuuta reaches into his right pocket for the pocketknife he’d slipped in that morning. Rika, I’m sorry to keep you waiting, I’ll be there soon. Will you wait for me? he asks silently, flipping the knife open. Something beyond his conscious memory makes him hesitate, and instead he holds the knife with shaking hands, watching the way the sunlight bounces off the blade.
The smile on Rika’s face falters.
Before he can process the image in his mind, another flash of purple appears, this one lingering for one second, two seconds, three. Bewildered, Yuuta sits up, head swiveling to the right, and this time, he finally puts meaning to the lilac flickers.
Standing a few feet away from him is a boy, perhaps his age, wearing a dark blue sweatshirt, black jeans, and a green scarf that covers his mouth and chin. His platinum hair sticks up in soft spikes, giving him a mean edge. But the first thing Yuuta notices is lilac. The boy stares back at him with eyes the same shade of purple as he’d been seeing mere moments before.
Yuuta stares. The boy blinks back.
“H…hello…” Yuuta stutters, unsure of what to say.
An uneasy look crosses the boy’s face, and Yuuta’s about to ask why, until the boy points at the knife in his hands.
“Oh, this?” Yuuta holds up the knife. The boy nods. “I…um…whittle?”
The boy doesn’t look convinced.
“I’m a pretty crafty guy I’d like to say, and I wanted to uh…expand my horizons?”
It’s bullshit, and both of them know it. The boy with the pretty purple eyes shakes his head.
“What do you mean, ‘no’?”
Purple Eyes extends a hand. Yuuta looks down at the empty palm of his hand, and then looks up at the boy’s expectant gaze.
“Are you wanting me to give it to you?”
A nod.
“But I need it.”
A shake of the head.
“I’m serious. I need it. Don’t worry about me, I’ll be fine.”
A sad flicker dances across Pretty Boy’s eyes. Yuuta almost feels bad.
Yuuta wrinkles his brow. “And if I give it to you, how do I know you’re not gonna use it?”
The boy blinks at Yuuta, offering only a small shrug. He takes a step closer to Yuuta, still looking at him with that sad, faraway gaze. Purple Eyes holds out his hand once more, a silent request still loud as ever.
“I…really, it’ll be fine…” Yuuta ducks his gaze down. “Don’t worry about it.” He keeps his eyes locked on the knife in his hands, fingers trembling slightly, knowing full well that he won’t be fine and that this stranger probably has every right to worry. What’s his deal, anyways? He doesn’t bother to look up, secretly hoping that if he ignores the lavender-eyed stranger, he’ll eventually give up and leave.
He doesn’t. Yuuta catches the shuffling of feet in the corner of his eye, and the sound of…pen on paper? After a few moments, the sound of tearing paper causes Yuuta to finally look up. He sees the boy fold up a torn piece of sketchbook paper into quarters, and, in one quick motion, he snatches the pocketknife out of Yuuta’s hands and replaces it with the folded piece of paper.
“H…Hey!”
The boy slides the knife into his pants pockets and takes a step back. He blinks curiously, surveying Yuuta’s reaction. Before Yuuta can unfold the paper and read its contents, Pretty Boy With Purple Eyes lifts his hand in a small wave, and as he does so, the sun beams down on him through the window. He looks quite nice in the sun, Yuuta thinks, bathed in golden light that makes his hair shimmer and his eyes glow. The boy waves, and the train plunges into darkness as it heads through a tunnel. Once the train reemerges, Yuuta finds the boy nowhere to be seen. He must have headed to a different train car.
He unfolds the paper, curiosity and confusion swirling around inside of him. The first thing he notices are small doodles on the edges of the paper– some finished, some halfway drawn. There’s doodles of cats, of clouds, of leaves. They probably weren’t intended for Yuuta, so he shifts his attention to the words on the page that are.
“You can’t leave just yet.”
Yuuta’s heart lurches, and he immediately folds the paper back up and shoves it into his pocket. He closes his eyes with a sigh, focusing on the rhythm of the music still thrumming in his ears, wondering if the pretty boy with the purple eyes is just another one of the Infinity Line’s conjured memories. The train pulls into Yuuta’s stop, and he gets up from his seat promptly. As he steps out of the train, one last memory floods his mind.
It's Pretty Boy With Purple Eyes. He stands in front of Yuuta in some unspecified location, holding out his arms wide. As if asking for an embrace.
Or as an invitation to join him.
Yuuta freezes, barely making it out of the train before the doors slide shut behind him. But he can’t stand on the platform forever to decipher these visions. Now that he survived the train ride (something he did not account for), he still has work to go to. Yuuta walks out of the station and towards his workplace, mind drifting far away, not able to keep the thoughts of Rika’s smile, Purple Eyes, and his stolen knife away.
The next time Yuuta takes the Infinity Line, Purple Eyes is already there when he gets on.
Yuuta slides into the same seat he sat in last time, stealing a glance at the boy. He has on the same green scarf that covers the bottom half of his face. He sketches something in the same black leather-bound sketchbook he carried with him before, eyebrows furrowed as the pencil moves. Yuuta finds it in him to smile just a tiny bit, but the smile fades in an instant as the first memory of the day flashes in his mind.
This time, it’s of himself, back at his apartment, brewing tea and pouring it into a travel cup.
He blinks. He doesn’t remember doing any of that, ever. A premonition of the future, then? he thinks to himself. The ticket print did say that the train traveled through future memories too, not just ones from the past. He reaches over and changes the song, tapping away on his phone for a little while and letting the vision float to the back of his mind.
As the song nears its chorus, the music fades out. Yuuta wrinkles his nose in annoyance as he’s pulled out of his daydream, and he turns his phone on to adjust the volume.
“Yuuta…”
The sound of her voice has Yuuta numb. His phone slips through his fingers and clatters to the floor, song long forgotten, the voice echoing ”Yuuta, Yuuta, Yuuta” over and over in his mind.
He barely notices Purple Eyes getting up and approaching him. All he can think about is Rika’s voice, cooing his name over and over and over.
Yuuta wishes he still had his knife.
He feels a tap at his shoulder, and he reluctantly raises his eyes to see Pretty Boy’s hand outstretched, fingers curled around another folded note.
“Huh? For me?”
Pretty Boy nods.
Yuuta takes it, but doesn’t open it right away. “Do you have my knife?” he asks aloud, ignoring the little wobble in his voice. I sound so pathetic, he curses internally, but he has half a mind to care.
The boy shakes his head. As if to further prove his point, Purple Eyes shoves his hands into his pockets and turns them inside out, as if to say, Really, I don’t have it. He then motions to the folded paper in Yuuta’s hands. Yuuta gingerly unfolds the paper, and to his surprise, he sees…himself? It’s a sketch of Yuuta sitting at his seat, chin resting on his hand, as he stares out the window of the train. Pretty Boy captured so much in just a few lines and shading– the wrinkles of Yuuta’s shirt, the scuffs on Yuuta’s shoes, the scratches and stains of the train floor.
The lonely look in Yuuta’s eyes as he stares out at the city flying by.
At the bottom of the sketch, a description written in small letters catches Yuuta’s attention. It reads: “handsome boy on the limitless, november 23, 2016.”
Yuuta gulps at the word “handsome” and he clears his throat. “This is me?,” he says with a small smile. “Thank you. You’re really talented.” He flicks his gaze upwards for a moment, not missing the sheepish shuffle of Pretty Boy’s feet. “But…why? Did you draw me, I mean?”
Purple Eyes shoves his hands into his pockets and tilts his head.
“This is really lovely,” he whispers, inspecting the drawing again, admiring every line. “I…I don’t think anyone’s ever done this for me before.”
Yuuta thinks he sees a smile under that scarf.
Pretty Boy whips out his sketchbook again and flips through its pages. He tears out an old page, examines it once more, and folds it up. Yuuta expects the boy to give that page to him as well, but a look of hesitation crosses his face, and instead he pockets the note. Pretty Boy turns to a new page in his sketchbook and taps it thoughtfully with his pencil.
“Is something the matter?”
Purple Eyes shakes his head. He centers his attention on the empty page in front of him. After a moment, he begins writing. Yuuta wonders how he’s able to stand and write on the train without tripping over his feet or losing his balance. He tears out the new page and folds it up, but before he hands the new note off, he bends down and picks up the phone that had clattered to the ground. Still kneeling, he hands the note and the phone over to a dumbfounded Yuuta.
“Thank you,” Yuuta mumbles, breathless, eyes trailing Pretty Boy as he exits the train.
The Infinity Line grants him no other memories during this trip. Just a vision of tea and a voice that’s haunted him for the last two years. But as he makes the rest of his trip, Pretty Boy’s sketch of him in his hands, he’s able to let that voice fade to the back of his mind, even for just a moment.
For some reason, the vision from the day before sticks with Yuuta, so much so that he breaks his normal routine. He wakes up, gets ready, changes, eats breakfast…prepares tea and pours it into the travel mug that he’s used maybe once before…and catches the train. The warmth of the tea seeps through to Yuuta’s hands, a welcome sensation on a windy day. He taps his ticket against his leg as he steps onto the train and takes a seat.
Purple Eyes shuffles by about four songs later and chooses a seat three rows in front of Yuuta. Yuuta squints at him, trying to get a better look at him. He dresses the same pretty much every time Yuuta sees him, and not once has he uttered a word.
Yuuta narrows his eyes. What’s your deal, Purple? he thinks to himself. No mentally stable person rides this line. What’re you dealing with?
He’s snapped out of his internal psychoanalysis by his first Infinity Line memory of the day– a memory of when he helped Rika after she had fallen and scraped her knee. They were just children at the time, five or six at most. He held her hand as he walked her inside, put a bandage on her knee, wiped her tears, soothed her. It had been so long since it happened that Yuuta forgot the entire thing.
Why am I supposed to remember this? he wonders, but is quickly pulled out of thought, this time not by Infinity Line mandated memories. This time, by a sound.
Coughing.
Yuuta glances around. It’s only him and Purple Eyes around, so it must be the boy three rows down. It starts off with a short bout of coughing, and then it ceases.
Must be something in the air, then. Yuuta pays no mind.
But that string of coughs is soon followed by another, more gravelly one. And another. Another. Yuuta grimaces at the sound– it’s rough and painful. Perhaps Purple Eyes is sick? The other passenger is doubled over in his seat, hacking and wheezing. Yuuta glances down at the tea in his hands. Was this...
Before any more of his thoughts can stop him, Yuuta bolts up and speedwalks down the aisle, instantly at Purple Eyes’s side. He kneels down and thrusts the travel mug into the other passenger’s hand. “Here.”
Pretty Boy, in between coughs, glances over at Yuuta, utter confusion in his eyes. At the sensation of warmth in his hands, he looks down, confusion growing even stronger.
“It’s tea,” Yuuta clarifies. “I made it this morning. I had…the train…it gave me a vision…of me making tea. So I did. I didn’t drink from it, if you’re worried about that.”
The look in the boy’s eyes makes it seem like he’s about to reject, but one particularly nasty cough has him pulling down his scarf and downing the tea in a snap.
And really, Yuuta knows it’s rude, but his eyes linger on the scars that protrude from Pretty Boy’s lips. Is that why he wears the scarf? he wonders, mesmerized by the (admittedly very pretty) view of the boy’s full face. Purple Eyes gulps down another bit of tea and lowers the cup, tentatively raising a hand to his throat. Yuuta watches as Pretty Boy fixes the scarf back over his mouth, sets the travel cup down between his legs, and picks up his sketchbook and pencil. Pencil scratches fill the air for a moment before he holds it up for Yuuta to see.
Thank you, it says.
“Oh, you’re welcome!” Yuuta replies with a smile. “Are you feeling okay? Are you sick?”
Pretty Boy scribbles a new line in his sketchbook. I’m okay, thank you. The boy swirls the travel mug, checking to see its contents, and holds it out.
Yuuta shakes his head fervently. “No! You can have the rest of it. I don’t drink tea much, anyways.”
He frowns (or, Yuuta thinkshe frowns, considering that scarf that hides his mouth), and holds it out once more, shaking it for good measure.
“Please, keep it,” Yuuta insists. “You can give it back to me the next time you see me. Since…you know…we keep bumping into each other.”
Pretty Boy snorts at that, and Yuuta can’t help but let out a slight laugh. “Ah…I’m sorry if that makes me sound like a stalker…it’s just that…you’re the only other person I see on this train.”
He shrugs.
Yuuta opens his mouth to say more, but a flashing sign overhead catches his eye. They reached his stop. He bolts up, startling Pretty Boy a bit. “This is my stop!” he exclaims. “You can keep the cup! Or give it back to me next time you see me. I hope you feel better! Have a good day!”
With that, Yuuta sprints out of the train car before the doors can close on him, utterly oblivious to tinted cheeks hidden under the boy’s green scarf.
–
A few days later, Yuuta stumbles onto the train, rubbing the sleep out of his eyes haphazardly. The normally very punctual Okkotsu Yuuta’s schedule is not immune to the occasional flaw, it seems. “Five more minutes” turned into “five seconds until the train leaves the station”, and Yuuta barely slipped into the train before the doors shut. He plops down in his seat by the window, grimacing as his face is immediately assaulted by sunlight. Not a great start to his morning.
He picks up his phone to skip the current song when he hears a loud grumble from his stomach. Yuuta winces. He’d overslept so long that he didn’t have time for breakfast. Fantastic. This is just great. Just peachy. Everything is fine. He leans his head against the train wall, wondering if it’s worth being late to work to make a pit stop at a grocery store. He simply can’t operate during the day without something to fuel him, but he’s already late for work as is…
A light tap on the shoulder gets his attention. Pretty Boy is at his side, and Yuuta unconsciously straightens up. This time, he holds out what looks to be some sort of…box?
“Hm?” Yuuta blinks, not sure if he’s fully awake.
Pretty Boy waves the box at him. Yuuta reluctantly takes it from his hands and opens it to reveal four onigiri, perfectly shaped, staring back at him.
Yuuta’s jaw drops. Now he’s surely dreaming. “What…how did you know?”
Purple Eyes makes a vague gesture to the train. Yuuta smiles– it seems like Pretty Boy had been having visions of him, too, much like how Yuuta had the tea premonition a few days earlier.
Yuuta picks up one of the onigiri, admiring its shape. “Are you sure I can have these?” he mutters as he turns it over.
Purple Eyes nods, the spikes of his hair gently bobbing up and down. He makes a gesture with his hands, as if he was molding the onigiri, and then points to Yuuta.
“You made these for me?”
Another nod, this time accompanied with crinkled purple eyes. He takes a seat near, but not next to Yuuta, and pulls out his trusty sketchbook. This time, instead of tearing out his desired page, he furrows his eyebrows as he gently pries the paper away from the spine. Yuuta watches him, curious as to what sort of message he’ll get today, and takes a bite of the onigiri. The combination of rice, a little bit of seaweed, and tuna with mayo makes Yuuta want to cry– it’s so simple, yet so comforting and filling. He wolfs down the rest of the onigiri in just a few bites, not caring about how impolite he may appear.
As he reaches for another rice ball, Pretty Boy walks over to him, folded-up note in hand. Yuuta takes it with his free hand and goes to hopen it. Purple Eyes turns to leave, but Yuuta blurts out, “Wait!”
Purple Eyes freezes and turns around, one eyebrow raised.
Yuuta gulps. He didn’t think he’d get this far, and now he’s being zeroed in by Pretty Boy’s curious countenance. “I…thank you very much! I was really hungry and these are very delicious and I hope you know that I appreciate you a lot! Thank you!”
Pretty Boy nods, and for a moment, Yuuta thinks he’ll stay. That maybe he will take the seat next to Yuuta, and that they may even have some sort of conversation. Pretty Boy seems to hesitate as well. He gestures to the train vaguely again, and Yuuta understands, somehow, even without words. With a wave, Purple Eyes Yuuta can’t help the little pang of disappointment that skitters through his body. To get his mind off of it, he unfolds the new note Pretty Boy had given him.
This note is very different from the others. The previous ones had quick sketches, doodles, and notes, made in a few minutes. The contents of this page are more detailed, more refined. The left side of the page has a drawing of Pretty Boy, complete with the spiked hair, large eyes, and scarf. Illustrated Purple Eyes has a curious expression in his eyes, head slightly tilted, index finger of his left hand tucked underneath the scarf, like he’s about to lower it. Above the drawing is something Yuuta never thought he’d see: a name.
“Inumaki Toge”it read, with a small arrow pointing to the illustration.
He hums. “...I-nu-ma-ki To-ge,” Yuuta whispers, letting the syllables roll off his tongue. He reads further.
“To the handsome boy I see on the train almost every day,
Hello. My name’s Inumaki Toge. You may be wondering why I give you notes instead of talking to you. Short answer, I can’t talk. Long answer: Childhood injury. Technically my vocal cords work, but they’ve gone unused most of my life. I sound weird and it hurts to talk. Anyways, enough about that. I’m writing to you because of the memories I’ve seen on the train. Before you came, I kept seeing blue. Flashes of blue for months on end. It drove me nuts. I kept trying to figure out what it meant. I wasn’t sure if the blue was supposed to be the sky or the sea or anything in between. But when I saw you the first time, it all made sense.
Thank you for staying. I can’t imagine how shitty things are for you right now, but thank you for holding on. I’m grateful I finally get to meet you.
Hang on a little longer.
Yours,
Toge”
It isn’t until a tear plops onto illustrated-Toge’s arm that Yuuta realizes he’s crying. Quickly a hand flies up to wipe the tears, not wanting to ruin the masterpiece in his grasp.
The onigiri. The picture. The name. The note. All for him, Okkotsu Yuuta, for whom life has not granted any favors to since he met Rika so long ago.
Perhaps this is some sort of cosmic retribution.
He takes another bite of onigiri, his lip trembling.
“Thank you for staying”
“Hang on a little longer”
“I’m grateful I finally get to meet you”
Yuuta reads Toge’s words over and over and over again, soaking up the mysterious compassion and care from whom Yuuta only assumed to be another passenger. No, this passenger is thoughtful. Kind. Observant. Talented.
Beautiful.
Around another bite of onigiri, Yuuta’s mouth curls into a hesitant smile. Maybe, just maybe, life can be kind enough to grant him a blessing, in the form of rice balls and pencil sketches.
And for the first time since stepping on the Limitless, no thoughts of death pass through Okkotsu Yuuta’s mind.
—--
For the next few days, Yuuta continues taking the same train every morning, bumping into Toge each time without fail. They exchange a wave, and Yuuta sometimes says hello. Toge sometimes gives him pages from his sketchbook, sometimes not. They know that riding the Infinity Line was for more than just travel purposes. It was for people seeking some sort of advice or reprieve.
Yuuta has his reasons, and he’s sure Toge does, too. What those reasons are, Yuuta’s not sure, and however curious he may be, he is not one to pry.
The memories he experiences on these trips are confusing at best, painful at worst. He sees flashes of purple, of red, of blue, of pinky promises and dappled sunlight. He sees Rika, sweet, beautiful Rika, and when he sees her, he wants to scream, he wants to cry, he wants to get off this train and never look back. When images of her skitter through Yuuta’s mind, he’s reminded of why he started taking the Infinity Line in the first place, and sometimes, in his darkest moments, he considers it once again. But sometimes, very rarely, he sees Toge. He sees him at the beach, bundled up in a large coat, kicking up sand. He sees him falling asleep at a desk. And once, only once, does he see Toge without that green scarf of his, his mouth scars fully visible.
Yuuta likes this memory the best, because in this one, he’s smiling.
He wants to see him smile for real.
On one particularly chilly day, Toge approaches him as soon as Yuuta sits down.
Yuuta smiles at the sight of his train buddy. “Good morning, Toge,” he says, heart leaping a little bit when Toge takes the seat next to him. “How are you?”
Toge nods, then points to Yuuta– his version of asking, “And you?”
“Ah…I’m alright. Had a hard time sleeping, but I always do. I’m going to have to stay late at work today since we just started this new pro–”
The words die in his mouth as Yuuta suddenly succumbs to a memory.
He sucks in a breath, and cautiously, ever so cautiously, peeks at Toge. The other boy’s eyes are wide, and in a heartbeat, purple eyes meet blue.
“Toge? Did you…see that too?”
The boy tilts his head, a questioning look in his lilac eyes. Yuuta curses internally. Well, shit. He must’ve seen a different memory, or maybe he didn’t see anything at all! Now I just look stupid. As Yuuta frets silently, Toge reaches for his sketchbook and scrawls out a message.
A memory? Tell me what you saw.
It takes everything in him to not collapse in a puddle of relief. Perhaps he wasn’t going nuts. “Oh, okay.” Yuuta taps his cheek in thought, gazing forward. “Well, it was…you. And me. We were at a park, I think. And we were walking around a lake. You saw some ducks swimming near the edge of the lake, and you ran over to them. Apparently I had some sort of duck food on me. You wanted me to give it to you, so I did. And you…you looked really happy when you were feeding the ducks. They seemed to like it too.”
Yuuta looks down at Toge, who’s not looking at him at all. Instead, he’s scrawling away at his sketchbook.
“Sorry,” he mumbles, scratching the back of his neck. “That was probably a lot.”
Toge shakes his head, not looking up. He finally puts down his pencil a few moments later and shoves his sketchbook in Yuuta’s face.
It takes a moment for Yuuta’s eyes to focus on what Toge had drawn. He had drawn Yuuta, holding out a brown paper bag labeled “duck food idk”, a soft smile tugging at his mouth. Around Yuuta are small duck doodles, with the word “hungry!” written next to them. And beneath the illustration of Yuuta, he sees the words “Toge’s POV”.
A small gasp escapes his lips. “So you saw it too?” Yuuta whispers, heart fluttering.
He nods enthusiastically, flipping to a new page. This one is of Yuuta at the beach, hands shoved in his pockets as he smiles. Another page bears Yuuta sitting at a desk and watching a movie, curled up in a blanket, staring intently at his laptop. Another page shows Yuuta burning something on the stove. Toge flips through the pages, so many of them filled with Yuuta, and all the while, Yuuta’s jaw hangs open.
All of the memories he had experienced on the train…Toge had experienced them too, in his own point of view.
The only thing preventing him from astral projecting into the galaxy is the little “???” attached to each drawing of him. Yuuta hums in confusion. “Toge, what does that mean?” he mumbles, breathless, jabbing a finger at the question marks.
The boy taps his pencil on Yuuta’s shoulder.
“Me?” Yuuta tilts his head, glancing from Toge to the “???”s on each page. Then it dawns on him. “Oh, me! Of course! I’m Okkotsu Yuuta.” He gives him a shy wave. “I guess I never introduced myself, even after all this time.”
Relief washes over Toge’s face, and instantly he starts writing Yuuta’s name in place of the question marks.
“So sorry about that,” Yuuta chuckles, turning towards the window. “It totally slipped my mind.”
Toge hums in response.
The train passes over the bay, and Yuuta peers out below. “What do you think it means, Toge?” he mumbles, not even sure if the other boy can hear him.
He feels a note being pressed into his palm. Yuuta unfolds it to read: “These must be glimpses of the future.”
“Well, yeah, I know that much,” Yuuta grumbles. “But…you know…what does it mean?”
Toge wrinkles his nose, and Yuuta has to bite down hard on his lip to prevent himself from blushing at how utterly adorable he looks. He writes a new note and gives it to Yuuta, making sure to poke him with a sharp folded corner before dropping it in his hands.
This one reads: “I don’t know what it means either. But it looks like we’ll be seeing each other a lot outside of the train. I’m excited to experience these memories with you, Yuuta.”
Yuuta blinks, eyes darting from the note to Toge to the note to Toge and back again. What could this possibly mean?
“I…so am I, Toge, I just…”
”Yuuta…”
Yuuta falls silent, at the mercy of the Infinity Line once more.
Rika’s face burns through his conscience, and this time, her expression is nigh indecipherable. She gazes at him, lips pressed in a tight line, sepia eyes watching his every move. Yuuta doesn’t remember this moment ever happening, but he doesn’t dare question it.
“I love you, Yuuta,” Rika whispers to him from beyond reality. She cups his cheek gently, a smile forming from her lips. “Don’t join me too soon, okay?”
And then she disappears. Gone in a flurry of golden sparkles, dissolving into the sunlight that streams through the train windows. And suddenly Yuuta is back in the train car, speeding along the track, sitting down next to Toge with tears streaming down his cheeks.
He feels a hand on his shoulder, but he can’t find the strength to move.
“R…Ri…Rika…” Yuuta’s voice comes out in a cracked whisper.
He can’t take it anymore. The floodgates burst open, and he cries. Yuuta squeezes his eyes shut and hangs his head, balling his hands up into fists as hot tears fall.
“R..R..Rik..a…” he mumbles through his teeth.
And suddenly he finds himself engulfed in the embrace of two strong arms, nuzzled into Toge’s chest. And oh, how Yuuta missed this, how Yuuta missed being held, how he missed sharing the burden of pain and loss and suffering with someone else, how he missed having someone there to hold him and tell him that he’s not alone.
How he’d missed not being alone.
Yuuta cries, chest heaving as his tears soak through Toge’s shirt. Toge simply hums as his embrace tightens. Yuuta nuzzles himself further into the embrace, desperate for any external sensation to drown out the devastation he feels inside. Toge’s navy blue sweatshirt is comfortable, smelling faintly of laundry detergent, and for a split second, Yuuta thinks of how lucky he is to be here in this moment, in Toge’s arms. And then he thinks of Rika again.
Yuuta chokes out a sob as a fresh wave of sadness overcomes him.
The walks in the park. The outings at the beach. The movie nights. In another life, they would all be with Rika. They were supposed to be, weren’t they? If only–
Toge leans his head onto Yuuta with another hum, slowly rubbing circles onto Yuuta’s back.
Oh.
Yuuta sniffles against Toge’s chest. This isn’t right. This isn’t fair. Here he was, crying like a child over a lost loved one in the arms of a future…something. That’s simply not fair, to Rika OR Toge. He straightens up slightly, messily running a hand over his weeping eyes. Toge loosens his grip and lets go.
“I’m sorry, Toge. I…let me explain,” Yuuta manages to say through a shaky breath.
Toge places a hand on his arm, a silent prompt for him to continue. Yuuta takes a deep breath.
“Before we met for the first time, I’d only taken the Infinity Line once before,” he starts, trying to even his breathing. “It was two years ago. Right after my best friend Rika died."
He bites down hard on his lip to prevent himself from spilling fresh tears, but it only works for a second.
“She was killed by a drunk driver. I didn’t…I couldn’t handle it. So I went on the train to try and figure things out. But the memories overwhelmed me, and I couldn’t take it. Things just…they got so much worse after she left…and I figured now…would’ve been a good time to join her.” He sniffles, hard. “But you stopped that from happening, clearly. And…just now, she told me not to join her too soon…” He winces as more tears roll down his face. “I-I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to dump all that on you, Toge."
Once again, Yuuta finds himself wrapped in Toge’s arms, and he leans into the touch. Toge’s fingers run through his jet-black hair, and he hums softly.
“I’m sorry, Toge, I know I shouldn’t...”
Toge pulls away for a moment and shakes his head. Still holding Yuuta with one arm, he grabs his pencil and sketchbook with the other and jots down a response.
It’s okay. You love her a lot. It’s okay to be sad.
Yuuta sniffles.
Toge continues to write, Thank you for staying, Yuuta. After Yuuta reads it, Toge puts down the sketchbook and pencil to hug Yuuta with both arms.
Even without words, Yuuta somehow knows all that’s being said in his embrace: Thank you for staying. I’m glad you’re here. I’m glad we met.
Gently, Toge brushes Yuuta’s tears away, and Yuuta takes the opportunity to stare into his beautiful lilac eyes. The flickers of lavender that fateful day led him here. What a beautiful shade of purple. He caresses Yuuta’s cheek with his thumb, and Yuuta finds himself once again leaning into his touch. The two of them stay there for a moment, no words spoken between them, only the rumble of train tracks echoing through the air.
“Th-Thank you, Toge,” Yuuta whispers, his voice breaking slightly, “for everything.”
Those lilac eyes that Yuuta has come to know and love sparkle at the sound of his words.
Yuuta’s so starstruck that he barely registers the train pulling into its next stop. Without warning, Toge snatches his things and grabs Yuuta by the arm.
“Wh– Toge! This isn’t my stop! I have work!”
Toge shakes his head, a mischievous look in his eyes as he pulls Yuuta off the train. He yelps in protest as the doors narrowly miss closing in on Yuuta’s ankle. The Limitless speeds away, and he glances at Toge with a curious expression.
“So, where are we going?” he asks with a sigh. Guess he’ll call in sick today.
Toge thinks for a moment, nose wrinkling in thought, before he flips through his sketchbook. It only takes a second for him to find the page he’s looking for. He taps at the drawing he’d made earlier on the trip, of Yuuta holding out a bag of “duck food idk” and of hungry ducks parading around him.
Yuuta smiles fondly. “The park? The one with the ducks? Sure.”
Before he can react, Toge grabs his hand again and starts running, and together they run up the stairs, out of the station, down the street. Yuuta yells at him to slow down, but he doesn’t slow his pace either as the two continue to run, run, run, fast like the Limitless train.
And although Yuuta is eternally grateful for the memories the Infinity Line gave him, both good and bad, he’s infinitely excited to make a million more of his own, with Toge right at his side.