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The ordinary world appears alien when you’re upside down.
In an instant Mizuki saw the world flipped through their eyes. Vertigo ran through their body to their hanging fingertips, blood rushing to the head; the sky was below them, heart racing from the peril of falling. Above them rows of empty seats banked inwards, stretching until they plateaued at the concourse lining the pit. A land of lights lay beyond that, all flashing in a disjointed rhythm, a ferris wheel rolling steady as it grazed the horizon. They wondered if a cloud would break their fall, where they could look up to the city growing out of the earth…
From the ground they could see so little. Lower, ever lower they wished to fall; in the evening glow those clouds shimmered like golden fleece, a temptation, pleading for them to let go and sink into the enveloping sea below. The call of the void became the allure of the heavens, a place where they would watch the world turn in solitude. To release all tension in their body at this moment would be to aim their body as an arrow to the skies. Even if they missed—if they could not find a place in the heavens—they would have an endless fall to dream in.
…Mizuki resisted the desire for now, remaining anchored to the ground above. An obligation of theirs remained unsatisfied. As they watched the ghosts in the empty seats a figure entered view, defying gravity. He walked up (...down?) the walkway separating the rows, stopping in its dead centre. With a small flourish he turned to face Mizuki, meeting their eyes with a smirk ever-so-characteristic of their friend.
Mizuki felt it necessary to make their impatience with him known.
“Didn’t you say this would be quick, Rui?”
Half of Mizuki’s body was hanging off the edge of the Wonder Stage, their hair falling haphazardly and grazing the floor beneath. Boredom stirred them into tempting daydreams as they waited for Rui. He did not acknowledge the complaint at first, instead pulling a device from their pocket—a controller—while looking behind Mizuki.
“The finishing touches always take longer than I expect. I assure you I’ve brought you out here for a good reason, Mizuki—I believe the artist should be the first to see their creation come to life.”
A drone moved down (...up?) into their vision. A few flickers of light came from the lens before a searing white blinded Mizuki’s sight, forcing them to pull themselves up onto the stage once again. As their mind readjusted to the nauseating sensation of gravity once again, they stared at the backdrop of the stage.
A ghastly, dying forest thick with fog had taken the place of the Wonder Stage; Mizuki stood in its midst, casting a shadow into the grey mist ahead of them. Lost, shivering, the sensation of fog pulling them into the ground… That colourful backdrop became a portal to some strange mindscape in a mere instant. It felt like it was without end, where they would walk a path lined with deadwood without meeting the walls of the stage. By their hand this world was created, and here it was projected in reality with every detail of their imagination.
The illusion broke the moment they turned around—but Mizuki continued to feel a childlike glee as they ran off the stage towards Rui.
“Rui~! It’s absolutely perfect! You weren’t kidding about making it lifelike, it was all--”
“--precisely as you imagined, right? I was overjoyed when you wished to work with me again, Mizuki, but “help me bring my animations to life” was quite an ask. The praise should go to you in part for creating such vivid worlds for me to tinker with. It wasn’t easy to engineer this projector to process multiple layers like you asked, but I would be doing a disservice to your work if I did not try my best.”
With the press of a button Rui disabled the fog layering the stage. This projector was what Mizuki dreamed of, a way to channel their newfound spark for making videos without needing to adhere to Kanade’s composing schedule. Collaging these worlds together, dabbling in their own artistic ventures; they were indebted to Rui for giving them the first push to broaden their skills, even if he didn’t realise it himself. It felt to them as if Rui was too quick to dismiss his own genius, though they wouldn’t complain about the praise they were receiving in the process.
“Now, if I could use the eyes of the artist themselves while they’re here, I need to ensure the position of the projection is correct before I automate the drone. Oh, and turn off the stage lights for me once it’s set, please.”
“Sure thing, Mr. Director~”
They had an inkling that Rui would be asking for a grand amount of favours in return for making their idea come true—they would happily oblige him for now. Mizuki stepped onto the stage once again, crossing the barrier into the projected world. They watched as the edge of the grey ground crawled in front of the stage, flicking their head back and forth between the illusionary backdrop and the real world.
“Nope, still off-centre. Rui, move the projection up maaaybe an inch… No, it’s still bleeding off the stage… Oh, keep it there, that’s perfect~!”
A distinct click came from Rui’s controller followed by him shoving the device back into his pocket. The drone remained steady, continuing to paint the stage. Mizuki watched as Rui walked up to the stairs; he looked them up and down before asking a question.
“Tell me, Mizuki, what are your career aspirations?”
“...Ahaha, that’s a little far away, isn’t it? Can I answer that some other time? I’m content with living day by day for now~”
Hand in chin, Rui continued to study Mizuki from the floor of the stage. “There’s no urgency, but… it appears you have unknowingly become the perfect stagehand. Troupes of all kinds would line up for your services. If you were to pursue such a career, you could be quite successful. Perhaps even a modest troupe in, say, Phoenix Wonderland would find your talents invaluable someday.”
Mizuki began to walk over to the backstage, clicking their tongue at Rui. This was his earnest attempt at recruiting them? They were fine with assisting Rui when he was in need—the importance of his dream was not lost on them—but an ill feeling rose within them thinking about committing to the duty of a stagehand. The end goal of Rui’s vision warranted a perfection that they felt unable to deliver. To create joy for others, to think so selflessly for the smiles of the crowd… They wondered if their vision of happiness matched his.
The allure of remaining unseen tugged at their mind, however, giving Mizuki enough pause to consider Rui’s remark a little deeper. In an ideal world where the actors of this humble stage became famous enough to travel the globe, it would be tempting to ride the coattails of his troupe’s success and escape the city that confines them. A younger Mizuki might have accepted without hesitation and simply moulded themselves to become the director’s understudy, but they had grown attached to the world they discovered away from him. They had a self to be tethered to, along with three others who seemed to have a fondness for them—the idea of departing their side for their own pleasure could hardly sit well in Mizuki’s mind.
…Before any of that, Rui would first need to start offering a sizable salary to get them to budge. It wouldn’t hurt to feed their ego while he was layering praise; Mizuki took a page from Ena’s playbook, picking at Rui for a few more sweet words.
“Hey, since you think of yourself as such a big-shot director, what makes me such a good stagehand? I could be willing to hear you out~”
“Your adept hands with costume design are your greatest strength—all complementary to your skills in video effects, makeup, hairstyling, tech proficiency, nimble feet… I could go on forever. Even if I were to specifically search for one, it would appear that my ideal co-director was hidden in plain sight all this time.”
Rui’s response did not miss a beat. It was clear he had been thinking about a recruitment pitch for a while now. Mizuki was impressed with how perceptive—and complimentary—he was, but their stance remained unchanged.
“All of that comes natural to someone like me~ Like I said, it’s far too soon for me to put a pin in my future juuust yet. You’ll let me explore the world a little before then, won’t you~?”
“Heh, it was worth a shot, I suppose. It would indeed be remiss of me to monopolise your talents if they could end up better utilised elsewhere. But what will you do with your future, Mizuki? Neither of us are getting any younger. The wild flame of youth will end before you realise. Consider my offer open indefinitely if you happen to have a change of heart.”
“Ahaha, are you for real? You should be worried about your youth flaming out before me, old man. You already act like you’ve got one foot in the grave.”
Rui seemed to have no rebuttal to their snark, choosing to roll his eyes. He stepped onto the stage, following Mizuki into the backstage area. With a quick step over to the lightboard Mizuki adjusted the slider on the stage lights, dimming them until the projection overpowered the stage. Pleased with the result, Rui pulled the controller out once again, spinning it in his hand.
“I’ve stored all of the effects you gave me onto the projector. Let’s see how it handles a change of scene, shall we?”
With another loud click the projection faded from the misty forest to a similar scene—the forest now blanketed by snow, flakes of white blowing across the stage. Faded footsteps continued into the distance. Rui stood at the entryway to the stage, putting his hand out as if to feel the snow for himself. With a wistful look he clenched his hand and pulled it back inwards, turning back to Mizuki.
“I was quite enamoured by this one. There’s a delicate beauty to the blizzard you’ve created here, something that pulled me in towards this world. What gave you the inspiration to create such a melancholic atmosphere, I wonder…”
“E-Eh? It appeared in a dream, I guess… Ever have the feeling where an image keeps persisting in your mind until you create it for real? I might’ve gotten a little bit of help from Ena, but it’s not easy to make this stuff, you know. I had to work on it every night until I was satisfied, ahaha~”
Creating a specific emotion on their own felt herculean in difficulty. They understood Mafuyu’s plight; how do you express an emotion when you don’t understand it yourself? Kanade’s music brought complex feelings to their mind, all rushing around and resonating with one another. To marry the lyrics with Ena’s art—her own heartfelt depictions of those feelings—while putting it into motion was a difficult task in itself. Alone, burdened with the task of building that same feeling, they wondered if they could ever convey their heart in their animations. The look on Rui’s face assured them that someone would always understand, and that those who existed just like them would find a meaning in their creations.
Rui was one to seemingly know everything, yet reluctant to press anyone for further detail, speaking in roundabout riddles. Despite that, Mizuki found comfort in having a shared experience with the one person who saw the world through their eyes; oftentimes it became easier to communicate with Rui through unspoken messages than to admit truths through their lips. Somewhere in that connection may have laid Rui’s intent for giving Mizuki his offer, knowing it would satisfy them to have an easy escape. They wished to pick at his brain a tiny bit longer, hoping to somehow glean his true motive.
“...Rui, it’s not like I’m as passionate about theatre as you are. Am I really that deserving of a role next to yours?”
Rui stared back out towards the stage. “Mm… There’s no reason I would joke about it. I am adamant that you could help conduct a sublime performance working in the wings like this.”
“But of everyone you could find in the world, I’m the best fit? There’s no way I’m that unique, Rui…”
“Let’s not pretend that you are unenviable, Mizuki. You are intelligent, you are quick-witted, and you have endless talents to speak of. Don’t let me pressure you into making a choice now—but if I could help you towards your future, then I would oblige any request. Seeing your smile would give me happiness in kind.”
“Awfully honest of you, huh… You make it seem like we’re gonna be stuck to each other for a while, aren’t we…”
“I did say I could go on forever about your good traits, mm? Ah, let’s see, in the time I’ve known you, you’ve grown to become quite the talented artist as well.”
Being continually referred to as an artist felt like they were stealing valour from Ena. They saved themselves further embarrassment by ignoring his remarks and staring ahead at the lightboard. From the corner of their eye they saw an odd stutter from the stage, forcing them to look past Rui; he followed their eyes to the stage in confusion.
The snowstorm flickered for a moment—again, again and again, fading in intensity, before vanishing out of reality. Rui grimaced, darting out of the backstage. Mizuki followed as he piloted the drone back towards him with urgency, turning it off as he grasped it. A faint grey smoke emanated from the side of the projector. For once, Mizuki saw a clear expression of defeat from their comrade.
“It appears I’ve miscalculated how much strain it can handle… how unusual. Well, it seems I’ll be spending another night in the workshop. I’ll let you know when I’ve fixed it, and we can continue--”
“--Do you mind if I tag along? I wanna know what you’re hiding in that secret lab of yours~”
Mizuki’s curiosity overwhelmed them, urging them to interrupt Rui. They wanted to watch the genius at work. It wasn’t quite the kind of request Rui said he would oblige, but he had his own lesser debts that Mizuki wanted balanced as well. They accepted long ago that Rui would forever remain elusive, running much deeper than they could possibly know, but the hypocritical part of them wished to peek behind the curtain. For what they have bared to him, Mizuki wanted repayment of any kind.
…By some miracle, he returned an affirmative nod to them.
“That wouldn’t bother me. I would appreciate the company. Though, I’m sure it’s not as fascinating as what your imagination has conjured.”
Mizuki stared at the workshop’s exterior in disappointment.
“It’s just a garage, huh?”
“I did warn you to temper your expectations.”
The doorknob rattled, and with one pull Rui cracked open the door to the workshop. The thin skylights did little to illuminate the room at this time of day, with the sun already sinking below the skyline. After a flick of the lightswitch, Mizuki saw the eclectic state of the workshop for themselves. Broken iron machinations and blueprints were strewn across the floor. The whimsical props and colourful banners piled in the back of the room contrasted the clinical aura the workshop gave off at first, a strange battlefield in conflict with itself. There was an odd, controlled chaos to Rui’s organisation—this was as clean as it would ever be, and Mizuki assumed that he knew the precise function and location of everything within the room.
Ambitious would strongly understate his attitude towards invention, Mizuki thought. If they were to dig into Rui’s daydreams, they would surely appear even more frantic than this room.
Rui placed the drone upside down on the table, reaching for a screwdriver as he rolled over a stool to sit on. Mizuki crouched over to his right, resting their head and arms atop a clear space on the table. With a few simple screws unfastened and wires disconnected, Rui was able remove the projector rigged to the underside, a window to the innards of the drone now exposed for viewing. His eyes were honed in on the projector itself, however, carefully slotting out a plastic cover to reveal a (slightly fried) battery.
“Hmm… This battery’s voltage should far exceed the requirements of the projector. I suppose this is the danger of using second-hand parts, though…”
Rui glanced over to Mizuki with a catlike smirk.
“...even our minds combined may never know why it failed so suddenly. Technology is unpredictable, as much as I’d love to assume I’ve prepared for all contingencies. Perhaps the drone became sentimental upon projecting your wondrous backdrop, unable to handle its overflowing emotion?”
“Looks to me like it’s the battery, Rui.”
“...Yes, the problem is indeed the battery. But if I’m cracking open the shell, I might as well make a few more adjustments based on our observations…”
As Rui disassembled the projector, Mizuki’s eyes went to the scattered blueprints stuck to the board in front of them. Most prominent were his plans for Nenerobo, attachments and notes creating a web of papers littering the wall.
Scientist, alchemist, sorcerer. His skill was in giving these machinations a soul, wires and transistors masking the magic dashed into every opening. To imagine that odd kid on the rooftop spouting useless philosophy was capable of this… Mizuki cursed their younger self for not opening their eyes and seeing Rui for the limitless imagination he had. They were too disillusioned to see his brilliance then—he was an unwilling outcast like them, and they reflected all those futile feelings onto him in turn.
…Why did he not tell them? Why did you not build me a new body? They couldn’t be angry at him with years of hindsight behind them, but the idea must have crossed his mind. With all of his ingenuity, couldn’t he have solved both of their dilemmas? He assured them that he would help whenever he could—and Rui was not a liar. Mizuki spilled their heart in trust and he did not betray them once. There were millions of thoughts flying around in his head that would never be spoken between them. Looking at his face now, many years later, Mizuki could see it clearly. He was just as scared as them, afraid of stepping too far, afraid of fracturing the friendship he had with the kindred spirit who stood beside him. To resent him for that would be beyond hypocritical.
Mizuki wondered: if they wished for a new body from him, what would it be? Even an iron cage would suffice. Let it become remodelled over time, coming ever closer to the ideal body—the perfect form. Strip the limbic system from this shell and transplant it to the next, make it feel, make it think, make it learn. Meld the flesh until it was a divine, unaging figure. It was all possible for him, surely; a nerve isn’t far removed from a wire, bones and blood as the body’s circuitboard. But Rui’s machines followed logic and Mizuki knew themselves to be anything but logical, no matter how far you removed them from their human turmoil. The heart and intelligence Rui would imbue upon his creations did not change the fact that he was their sole keeper. These creations could not live on their own, nor could they live forever. No matter how many times he would fix them, someday they would rust and wither like their own human bodies.
They wanted to be unbound, a fate that could not be granted in a body like that. Mizuki felt gratitude for being born human instead, sickening as it felt.
Atop the stage these inventions gave audiences joy, a swirl of blinding colours and notes he would direct into the most incredible performance. Here they were cold and lifeless. A single spotlight shines on the living dreamer, and in his shadow Mizuki watches.
A clatter of metal pieces reached their ears. The guts of the projector were now strewn across the desk. Rui drummed his fingers atop the desk in contemplation. Mizuki buried their head in their arms, not wishing to meet Rui’s eyes as they spoke.
“Doesn’t it get lonely here, Rui?”
A pause preceded his response, seemingly lost in a trance of thought.
“The thrill of invention keeps me content. I tend to forget the world continues to turn while I’m focused on a project, but it’s not always as lonely as it seems, either. Nene will often check in and play her games while I work. One would assume she’s merely worried for me, but the motivations of a girl like her couldn’t be more enigmatic, mm? I do love her dearly when she’s around—she’s kind enough to wake me up when I drift off.”
The thought of Rui lumbering over the desk out cold brought a cheeky smile to Mizuki’s face. “You’re just like Kanade…”
“...A member of your circle, correct? You don’t make it sound like a compliment.”
Mizuki jolted up in emphatic defence of their composer. “No, no, it is! I’m just saying you’re both, uh… super dedicated to your craft! You should be honoured to be mentioned alongside her! Ahaha, maybe there’s some weird curse people like you and her have, ‘cause she’s also…”
…What was the common thread between the two? Unfathomably smart, they knew both were as much, but that didn’t explain their shared behaviour. Both of them drew Mizuki in and introduced them to a world that they were unaware of. Maybe it was their unabashed honesty when speaking about their dreams, the acceptance of how much they would have to burn themselves to help others. They knew they were an impressionable fool to admire either of them; their behaviours must have imprinted on Mizuki, for if it saved Rui or Kanade even a bit, they would do anything to alleviate their burdens.
‘Easy to care about’, maybe, but they would never admit that to his (or Kanade’s) face. ‘Naive with a pure heart’ was closer. Whatever they shared beyond their genius wasn’t tangible; it was magic they couldn’t fathom putting into words. All they knew is they could both cast a spell that made them throw their shielded self to the wayside for brief moments.
“...you know, it doesn’t matter what she is. Shouldn’t you start caring about collapsing at your desk like that!?”
Rui scratched his head, seemingly unfamiliar with the idea of self-preservation. “I’m not quite sure what you mean.”
“I’m telling you to take care of your back, old man. And Kusanagi-san’s definitely worried for you. Your youth will be behind you if you keep sleeping slouched over here, and you’ll also get wrinkles and lose everything else handsome about that face of yours.”
“Now, when did you begin to care about my health? You’ve become quite considerate, Mizuki.”
…Rui’s sly smile broke as he processed Mizuki’s words for a second time.
“...Handsome?”
He appeared oddly bashful at the realisation. Mizuki knew they tapped into a rare vulnerability; they were surprised Rui would be caught off guard by an honest statement on his looks.
“I’m calling it as I see it. You do look the best out of everyone on stage, ahaha~ Remember that mophead you had in middle school? I know you were still figuring it all out, but come on! I didn’t wanna tell you the whole truth back then, but that style was never gonna work on anyone.”
Rui leaned over and ruffled Mizuki’s hair. “It’s rather strange hearing that from you. I’ll admit, I almost didn’t recognise you when you walked through the Kamiyama gates for the first time.”
“Is that how little you cared about me!?”
“Now, now, I’m only joking. I do remember thinking that everything felt correct the moment I saw you again. That I was seeing an old friend, yet being introduced to Akiyama Mizuki for the first time. I couldn’t help but feel relieved. You continue to be full of surprises—the more I learn about you, the more I’m proud of the Mizuki beside me today.”
“...Don’t sell yourself short, old man. I think you’ve come pretty far too.”
The chance for them to reminisce like this was a stroke of luck, Mizuki thought. It was inevitable they would part back then, without a guarantee they would reunite as changed people.They recalled the days after he graduated—vanishing to the other side of that rooftop fence. They spent a day watching the unframed sky, eyes following the clouds to the edge of their vision, unthinking. Hour upon hour passed as they remained in that one spot, until the golden sky turned leaden blue once again.
Questions set their roots in Mizuki’s mind for weeks afterwards. They wondered if he truly cared about them—whether he had any love for them, even as they were back then. Any conclusion they came to appeared shaky, but something had wormed into Mizuki’s heart to convince them that he did harbour a worthwhile love. A love persistent though weak, unable to show itself bare. Mizuki unravelled the words of Rui remaining in their memory, now seeing his confidence that there would be a better future for the Akiyama Mizuki he knew. With little else to grasp, they let the last flakes of that love give them guidance to search for an identity that could give them peace. To pay Rui’s kindness forward they started a new hobby, giving appreciation to the one nameless musician who might have understood them, even if they might never see it. In no world did they expect that the musician was watching and cherishing Mizuki’s work; through the holes in that fence they caught the hand of Kanade, leading to a group who finally gave them momentary happiness.
As cruel of a truth it seemed, they could admit now it was without Rui that Mizuki finally took that leap into a world where 25ji was born. His departure forced their hand, to find a self beyond that solitary child who found no future within themselves. An unlikely happiness for themselves was created in his absence, and he, too, was able to find his own future in a group who gave love to the unique Kamishiro Rui.
And now he presented another question. What will become of your future, Mizuki? What they have now—where and when will it end? Maybe they figured he didn’t want to recruit them, and simply remind them of how ephemeral their time is. All of this may simply be a mirage, a bliss that could disappear if they opened their eyes. To keep their happiness intact, they would have to someday fight their instincts for it… Mizuki was able to accept that truth.
That was the difference between them and the younger Mizuki, wasn’t it…? Even if they were to go back in time and tell that kid everything they will learn in the next few years, and every joy they would gain and lose, they would do nothing but shrug their shoulders and move on. That kid let fate become their keeper. Now they wanted to twist fate in their favour, even slightly…
Their dreaming was disturbed by a loud snap echoing through the workshop. The last component of the projector was clicked in place, Rui now reconnecting the device into the drone. He appeared proud of the reassembly job, moving out of the lens’ way with controller in hand.
“Once again, let’s watch it come to life.”
With the drone pointed at the back of the workshop, Rui powered on the projector. The same snow-covered forest illuminated the room, enveloping the air in a million snowflakes. Rui wasn’t content with the single scene—he grabbed the controller, flicking through all the backdrops Mizuki provided to him. A distant city overgrown, rays of light obscuring their vision; A world of hazy purple, coloured lines glitching in and out of sight… Everything was tangible, like they could reach out and grasp a part of these little worlds born of their imagination. To believe their hands crafted all these beautiful vignettes of different realities; to believe his hands engineered it into the living world…
These lonely kids were finally creating a worthwhile future for each other.
The haze faded, lines focusing in on one bright point at the centre of the wall. With a flicker their dream vanished and the workshop returned.
Rui put the controller back on the table and glanced over to Mizuki.
“What do you think, my dear artist?”
“Ahaha… didn’t I already tell you it was perfect? You turned my selfish request into something way beyond my imagination. You didn’t have to go that far for me, Rui…”
“Did I not? I don’t think I could have resisted going deep into such an intriguing challenge. Our performances will become more enrapturing with this technology as well, so I consider this time well spent with a mutual benefit.”
“But why did you bother--”
“--You’re smiling more. That is my incentive. If this is all I have to do to ensure your happiness continues, then I will gladly create anything you dream of.”
Mizuki knew any response they gave couldn’t express their full gratitude. When the facade of the mysterious director fell and the honest, noble kid underneath showed himself, they could only feel more endeared towards him. This is how his love manifested—through invention and assurance, giving his fellow dreamers a glimpse into the future waiting for them. No matter where Rui ended up he would be praying for their world to be wonderful, and they would be wishing the same for him. As long as he was living, they would never feel alone.
…They realised too late, the window to confess distantly behind them. Mizuki wished they could show Rui the love they held for him. If their fate gave them another chance, in a far-off future…
A loud knock came from the workshop door, with a voice groaning behind it.
“Rui…”
Mizuki couldn’t suppress a surprised shriek, jumping to their feet. Rui could only laugh as he rose from the chair, the door opening before he could grab it for himself.
“What was that noise, Rui– ah…”
Nene had taken one step into the workshop, but quickly recoiled to the side of the doorway as she made eye contact with the stunned Mizuki. Rui took a tone of concern as he responded to her.
“Nene, it’s only Mizuki. Is there something wrong?”
“No, we… made a bit too much for dinner, and I expected you wouldn’t have eaten yet.”
“That’s quite generous of you, Nene. I hope there’s enough left for two, as you may have another guest intruding along with me.”
Rui looked back at Mizuki. They stammered to object, not wanting to overstay their welcome and disturb the two.
“A-Ah, you don’t need to worry about me, Kusanagi-san! We juuust finished up what we were doing, ahaha, I’ll get going soon any--”
“--It’s fine, Akiyama-san. It’d be a pain for me to deal with him alone anyway.”
Rui appeared oblivious to the side-eye pointed his way. “How cute of her to take a liking to you, Mizuki. I wouldn’t want to let her down. I’m certain the two of you will get along wonderfully, so would you join us?”
They smiled timidly, taking a step toward Rui. “If you insist, I guess I can’t refuse, can I?”
Mizuki finally felt able to relent. This was another slice of Rui’s world he wanted them to be introduced to—far from ordinary, familiar to their own, and for today a place they felt at home within. It was a joy they couldn’t gain from the heavens, the gift of remaining on the ground with someone who earnestly loved who they were. Worries and thoughts of the future faded from their mind.
They breathed out, and let themselves be a guest to his world for a while longer.