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“Well, it’s alright, but,” The man sounds a little bit thoughtful. He moves away from the camera and defiantly scratches the back of his head, looking at the scenery, while he catches the uncertain and slightly blank stare of his model.
“Something is missing. I want you to show me more emotions, more feelings. Do you understand?”
Tatsumi smiles gently and nods in response. He stands a little irresolutely, tightly clutching the thin fabric of the white dress between his fingers. He could easily imagine Mayoi wearing something like this, since he was so pretty and somehow fragile at first sight, but, well, a “hold hands” notification a few days ago was able to really surprise him. It was an invitation to a photoshoot just for him.
Kazehaya looked at his own reflection in the mirror and could only blush awkwardly while the makeup artists conjuring up his image continued to praise him and his looks.
But he really looked as if he had stepped out of the pages of a novel about dukes and beautiful princesses. Of a novel in which a waltz melody sounded in each chapter, and the smell of expensive perfume seemed to make its way out, tightly wrapping everyone in a strange combination of soft vanilla and metallic fragrance from new diamond earrings. He was wearing a loose white smock dress with a large bow of white and pink silk on the chest, and a lush, even heavy skirt, which he constantly had to hold with his hands; it was shorter in front, revealing long legs in thin white tights with patterns resembling the starry sky. Tatsumi could hear the sound of small gems scattered all over the dress, forming a special, unique melody with each of his weightless steps. Rows of fluffy frills and ruffles made him look like a small cloud; while silk flounces gave this whole image the same tenderness of the first dance at the ball.
“What should I do then?”
He asks unobtrusively and, as always, politely, sincerely listening to the opinion of a professional in his field. All this aesthetics: the royal hall, the high walls, and expensive beads on his neck — everything is an idea that belongs to another person. And Tatsumi just became someone who fit perfectly into someone else's vision and was oh so happy to "help". As an idol he had been used to wearing any kind of clothing for their performances. And yet, he really liked it. He liked the hairpins in the form of white butterflies, clinging to a few strands of his hair just for show, liked the sleeves as lush as the dress, revealing, albeit not so fragile and doll-like shoulders and protruding collarbones, even liked the barely perceptible knock of the low heels of neat silver shoes and small sapphire hearts on clasps encircling his ankles. They slowly swayed in time with each step, and Kazehaya could not help but feel a special, previously unfamiliar lightness, imagining that this crowded shooting pavilion was one of the noble castles.
He dances alone while the camera catches every measured "pas". Tatsumi moves his legs a little uncertainly, but their trainings with the other ALKALOID members were much more difficult, so he wasn't particularly worried. He had never appeared on stage in such shoes before, but to his surprise, his foot, having received support in the form of this small heel, felt comfortable.
“What if we try it like this,”
The man spoke a lot, waved his hands from side to side, leading him like a puppet on strings from corner to corner. He appreciated art, he was inspired by the styles of the past centuries, and so often casually mentioned artists Tatsumi had never heard of — it became so embarrassing, because in response he could only blush uncertainly and agree with every word.
"Imagine yourself in the work of Michel Garnier. Or Fair Rosamund is more romantic?"
As you wish.
Tatsumi allowed it all. He allowed himself to be treated like a doll while the creator was working under a rush of inspiration. He allowed to grab his thin wrists for the sake of "the greatest idea". In the end, he was concerned about the results, too. Tatsumi wanted the photographer to be satisfied with him. And his own feelings? He was able to help and is happy about it already. This is the most important thing.
“No, no, it’s more like L'Escarpolette, no.”
They both are tired. Not only them, but all the staff on the shooting stage working on this project, helping Tatsumi with clothes, makeup and hairstyle, and decorating the area. He understood everything clear, while the weight of his own helplessness still began to press on his shoulders, piercing every cell of his body with an unpleasant tingling, reverberating stronger in his leg. Tatsumi could not let all these people down; no, not at the moment when they, so inspired, sang sweet songs to him that it was his "gentle and exalted" look that was ideal for this photoshoot.
You're perfect for us.
Only you.
The hem of the dress finally touches the floor when he first kneels a little, and then lies down completely, allowing the exposed skin on his back to touch the cold marble. Jewelry knocks in time with thoughts that are confused in Tatsumi's head. How tired he was. He removes one small ring and stretches his right hand forward, while continuing to pull the fabric tightly on his chest with the other.
“Then, maybe, Ophelia?” He asks uncertainly, and only this sweet smile of his seemed to stick to his face.
“Wasn’t Ophelia…? Oh,” The photographer looks at him attentively in response. The man does not finish the sentence; only his eyebrow slightly bends in a surprised gesture, “I see. Friedrich Heyser, right? Wonderful idea, Tatsumi-chan.”
Being addressed to like this is unusually jarring. It gave off something slimy and unpleasant in the subconscious. He doesn't know why, but he tries not to think about it more than he should. People treated him worse, allowing themselves unnecessary frivolities and inappropriate intimacy, such as accidental or not touches — as long as it was for the benefit of his unit and his friends, Tatsumi could endure the worst. The thought that Hiiro, Aira and Mayoi are happy and enjoy every single day as ALKALOID made him happy too, and all this could not but be reflected on his face with another distracted smile.
“This way we'd never finish,” The photographer clicks his tongue with displeasure, and Tatsumi ceases to understand him completely. Did he do something wrong again?
“You're gorgeous,” He said unexpectedly. So much unexpectedly that Tatsumi got up fron the floor, leaning on his arm, while feeling the blush begin to show through an imperceptible layer of makeup. “You, your poses and ideas. I chose you and I won't change my mind. You can say I see the "The life of the fairies" in you,” The man tucks one stray strand behind his ear and deftly corrects the rolled sleeve. There were no ulterior motives in these movements, but Tatsumi didn't understand what he was trying to say. “However, I'm not just trying to recreate the paintings.” Inspiration is mixed with something instructive in man’s voice. “I want to breathe a new life into them, paying homage to the artist. I'm looking for special feelings, you know? Paintings are so close, but in fact art is too far away. I want this closeness to be, please, understand me correctly, real. Not just a frozen image that cannot be reached, no! but a creation that seems to speak to the viewer from a photograph.”
Tatsumi certainly did something wrong again.
“I’m sorry, I just,” it's so out of character for him. An idol stumbles and tries to hide behind a layer of lush frills of his own skirt, but it only opens his legs, bent uncertainly at the knees, even more. He is fully clothed, but under the intense and burning gaze he feels helpless.
“I need a break.”
“Fifteen minutes.”
Clinging to the hem with neat nails, Tatsumi only hears how the door to the shooting pavilion closes behind him with a slam a second later. This sound continues to reverberate in his head like a mad march while he runs somewhere, not even trying to pay attention to the identical narrow corridors with chalk-white walls. He can feel other people's curious stares burning several new holes in his open back.
Tatsumi will never admit it.
But, damn, it really hurts somehow. And this gnawing feeling inside was hitherto unfamiliar. He always perceived resentments as whims, and whims are an unacceptable luxury. Thanking God for another day lived through has always been the right thing to do. Now his thoughts from a harmonious sequence mixed into a disorderly lump of unspoken words, even if they were not rough at all. What is he wrong about?
“Maybe I really cannot see something this obvious. What am I even doing?”
He has to come back. He has to apologize and try again. After all. . . They're waiting for him there. They pin hopes on Tatsumi, look at him with admiring glances, encourage him with warm speeches. It has always been so. And that time when he let everyone down, too. Kazehaya feels his lips tremble treacherously and almost stumbles when someone else's hand gently, as if he really was some kind of doll, stops him, grabbing a long bow at the corset on his back.
“Cinderella, haven’t you lost something?”
Familiar voice that is hard not to recognize. Loud and as usual a little mocking, in fact, he never really tried to hurt. Tatsumi exhales deeply and stops to greet Rinne when he notices another person nearby. Familiar blue strands and piercing gaze of golden eyes. HiMERU always looked at him like that. How? He couldn't even describe it properly. A feeling that has always remained unspoken. Tatsumi understood more than he said out loud. And now a small pearl earring with a white frame and a cute pink bow made of thin ribbon gently swinging between HiMERU’s fingers. He silently returns a small "lost thing" and stares at the idol with slight disbelief. Both of them. While Tatsumi is only correcting his slightly spoiled from this long run image, quietly saying something like "Thank you" which is lost in awkwardness.
HiMERU looks at him, evaluates: too handsome. He is always too handsome, majestic, and how annoying it is. But HiMERU just wanted to look again and again, reach out and touch without fear that the not-so-fragile figure in front of him would completely disappear into the clouds. Rinne allows himself a little more, as always. He stares at the "princess" without a twinge of conscience: at every detail, from puffy sleeves with ruffles to pretty shoes with low heels.
“HiMERU-san, Rinne-san,” Finally, Tatsumi gathers his thoughts and tries to dispel this strange atmosphere that arises between them every time the trio is left alone, even if it doesn’t happen way too often. But still his voice shakes a little.
HiMERU notices how Tatsumi continues to hold on to his dress. Who are you trying to fool, Kazehaya Tatsumi? What a pathetic view. And yet HiMERU can't take his eyes off him. How annoying.
“Yes yep, we’re working here too today,” Rinne takes a sip of some drink bought from a nearby vending machine and exhales, pulling the already almost untied tie even harder, as if it was the same garrote around his neck as the layered beads for Tatsumi. “Ya know, album covers or something like that.”
“And they are already waiting for us to come back,” HiMERU reminded slightly closing his eyes.
Meeting Tatsumi here was the last thing he wanted and could have expected. And yet here they are.
“My break is almost over, too,” Kazehaya staggers too sharply and almost stumbles over his own heel. It took a little longer to get used to the new shoes than he expected. “I should be getting back.”
“And you obviously don't want to, mm?”
Tatsumi’s polite smile fades for a second. Rinne understands him so well. All his emotions and feelings that he doesn't want to flaunt. But maybe it's much easier to read through him than Tatsumi thinks? It remains only to nod under HiMERU’s disapproving sigh instead of proper response.
For some reason, this meeting was able to cheer Tatsumi up a little.
“Well, that’s soo sad,” Tatsumi could feel Rinne’s arm around his waist. Pulled so close, he can inhale a calming scent, even if it is some unfamiliar perfume without a bright aroma probably used at the studio every day for small photoshoots like theirs, “It seems an evil dragon is supposed to kidnap the princess from her tower. Wait, nah. It wasn’t like that in fairy tales, right? Who I am then, MERUMERU? A prince?”
Rinne’s laugh sounds so happy, and he leads his companion into the intertwining corridors. These touches did not confuse Tatsumi, but on the contrary warmed him in a special way. The young man didn’t try to think about the reasons. Maybe he just didn't want to, or maybe he was afraid. But for that second the already familiar warmth was like a light in a frozen cave; he just wanted to run after this shiny sparkling flame.
And yet, there are still patterns brought out by frost on the ice, especially for him. Patterns that follow right after the flame.
“An idiot,” HiMERU fixed his hair with a deft movement and followed both of them, keeping a little behind.
He looks at Amagi's hand on Tatsumi’s waist; looks at how he tries to play with the threads of the corset on idol's back just out of curiosity. Surely Rinne had never seen anything like this dress up close. Well, HiMERU himself had seen this for the first time, having previously encountered such fashion only in magazines. Involuntarily, he thinks that he wants not just to touch, but to untie this silk ribbon and pull down the high sleeves, while Tatsumi does not resist accidental touches. HiMERU's own thoughts seem out of place and make him blush. The fact that they all revolved around, oh God, Kazehaya Tatsumi only made him feel even worse.
HiMERU should despise him. His soft smile, kind and always understanding gaze, even the moles under his eye, which he wanted to kiss more and more every day. He should hate Kazehaya Tatsumi. Sinner or not, and yet he can't.
“Really, I need to go.”
“HiMERU would also prefer to get back to work.”
“Well, of course,” Rinne shrugs and finally lets Tatsumi go when they are near the right door. “It's actually good for the higher-ups to get a little nervous sometimes.”
“Oh, I am sure.”
Tatsumi shivered, hearing the already familiar voice of the photographer behind him. The man puts his hands on the idol's shoulders, and in these touches there is nothing resembling that relaxing warmth. He has been kind to Tatsumi all this time, but Kazehaya is just angry at himself so much, at his own helplessness and his own whims.
He truly is like a gift, a rare thing that has been returned to its rightful owner, whose eyes are beginning to shine with finally newfound inspiration. The man returns Tatsumi into the skillful hands of makeup artists and costumers, making regular preparations for the continuation of the shooting.
His new dress is different from the previous one; it seems much simpler and actually fits him much better. White, without unnecessary bows and patterns, without ornaments ringing from all over the hem. A light skirt of loose riffles whirled with him in a light dance, completely covering his legs. Tatsumi realized he felt much more comfortable when the semicircular toe of the shoes only peeked out slightly from under the hem. Again, the sleeves separated from the dress slightly covered the arms. He could feel every gust of wind from the open window with his back. And each time this coolness seemed to bring him back to reality, not allowing Tatsumi to get lost in the mirage of his own worries. In his hand is a small bouquet of artificial flowers – an idol does not even try to pretend that he can feel the subtle, non-existent flavors. His hand goes down by itself while the flowers get tangled in a small maroon ribbon at the corset - the only detail that stands out. He looked at his own reflection and exhaled with amusement.
He felt somehow magical in the dressing room. He liked to watch the slightly shiny shadows shimmer over his eyes; he was comfortable in unusual clothes. Tatsumi felt alive again even so, with a slight half-smile and closed eyes. He tried to make a displeased grimace, drew his eyebrows together, and, like a character from old cartoons, put his hands on his sides while knocking the toe of his shoes on the floor, feeling that he only wanted to laugh at himself. It seems that he finally understood what Mr. photographer wanted to see. It was so simple and at the same time, perhaps, genius. Who said that his emotions should meet other people's expectations? Kazehaya nods to his own image in the mirror and returns to the studio with renewed vigor.
HiMERU once again rolls his eyes in an attempt to retreat a couple of steps towards the exit, when he feels a not-so-random kick under the elbow.
"We have a couple more minutes," Rinne doesn't want to leave. He looks at the scenery and at the one who fascinates him with sincere delight.
HiMERU thinks he doesn't really want to watch the filming. But the luxurious decorations and most importantly — oh so beautiful Kazehaya Tatsumi — attract his attention.
"You are definitely my Symphony in White.”
HiMERU thought that Kazehaya, who was mired in thoughts about his shortcomings and was lowered from heaven to earth seemed to him annoyingly natural and much more alive. Tatsumi always smiled. And where behind that smile, even if it was so warm and soothing, was his true self? That's what made people put him on a pedestal of an unattainable ideal. HiMERU would like to think so. He just didn't want to believe that there were people so sincere in their good thoughts. He wanted to find a catch, wanted to probe that seemingly hidden personality. But what if this mask never existed?
"That magical girl dress was better," Rinne muttered something from his corner. "What?” An uncomprehending look makes HiMERU just shrug his shoulders. “Being happy as usual suits him better."
"It's time for HiMERU to get back to work. And you too, Amagi."
He wouldn't drag him back like a misbehaving kitten, even if Rinne looked that way from time to time. Happy as usual? In Reimei Tatsumi wasn't happy, but smiled because he was used to it. But maybe there is no point in pretending for the sake of others anymore. HiMERU doesn’t want to think about it, but even the idea that Tatsumi is happy pleases him somewhere deep in his soul. He doesn't want to accept that Tatsumi’s smile is sincere when he glimpses him at lunch. After all, every time he nods nervously, almost smiling in response. It is much easier to live with the idea that the "righteous one" is lying to everyone around, hiding behind a mask.
But who is the only liar here in the end?
This evening, none of them had time to admire the sunset.
The headlights of passing cars dazzle like the continuing flashes of a camera, and the noise of the same lively street at night seems alien for a few seconds. Tatsumi blinks a few times uncertainly and takes a few deep breaths, tightly clutching a neat box tied with a white ribbon.
“A gift from the brand for your hard work,” idol politely bows and thinks that he can't accept it like this. Even if by the end of the shoot the photographer was just heaping praises on him word by word. Tatsumi himself did not think that he had done everything possible this time.
“And, hah, from me too.” A small polaroid attached to the ribbon.
Tatsumi looks at himself and doesn't even believe that it's really him. The dream of the tea club as it is: from the photo at him looked a happy and serenely smiling idol sitting at a small glass table. He examined a delicate pocket mirror with floral patterns while raspberry tea with milk cooled in a mug. It is unlikely that it was really delicious, but the milk turned it into an unusual blackberry shade. Delicate pink and blue petals are everywhere under his feet. Yes, it seems that this photo was taken when the shooting was already over, and the atmosphere was no longer so tense.
"I really hope that we will be able to work together again," kind words made Tatsumi feel sheepishly.
"Of course," the usual politeness. What else could he say? "I'll be looking forward to it, thank you for taking care of me."
‘No, I really am... I mean."
Tatsumi looks at the man — who, in reality, did not seem much older than himself — with incomprehension. During the time after the break, they discussed many things: endless conversations about paintings, creativity, and feelings. All this made Tatsumi think a lot, but he honestly promised himself to write everything down and rethink it again after at least a few well-deserved hours of sleep.
"I don't have much work experience, and it's usually difficult for me to communicate with models, too. I probably offended you right away, I apologize."
Even if that was the case, Tatsumi wasn't used to seeing people bowing so low in front of him. It was a little confusing, maybe he even looked somehow ridiculous, trying to get the same tired photographer to stand up straight, convincing him that everything was fine. Knowing himself, this situation could easily turn into an endless exchange of apologies and bows.
"You also taught me a lot,’"Tatsumi smiles in response and bows before leaving the pavilion. Well, maybe he really doesn't mind working together again.
"Oh? What a cute little thing, is it special photocard for one and only lucky fan?"
Rinne's slightly hoarse, but still cheerful voice pulls him out of not-so-distant memories. It looks like Tatsumi didn't notice how he created a small “traffic jam” at the exit. And now Rinne is looking at the photo, leaning over Tatsumi’s shoulder and smiling encouragingly:
"Ya look pretty, Princess Princess."
“Rinne-san, HiMERU-san,” A random feeling of deja vu.
It seems Kokahu and Niki have already gone home, but these two are still here. Tatsumi didn't want to think about himself a little more than he should, but the accidental thought that they were still here because of him felt so warm. The idol only laughs while Rinne passes the polaroid to HiMERU, even if he continues to pretend that he is completely uninterested. And, Tatsumi will lie to himself if he says that he does not want to hear at least a few kind words at all.
Pride and vanity, huh. It's been a long time since he repented for something like this.
"HiMERU thinks the atmosphere reminds of "the Waltz of Flowers"," HiMERU was always careful in his expressions, but for Tatsumi it was enough. "Cute," blue-haired man added so quiet, that this word drowned somewhere in the hum of people passing back and forth.
The few seconds of silence between them now had their own special meaning.
" "Waltz of Flowers" is a part of the famous ballet..."
HiMERU rolls his eyes, but does not have time to finish his a little pretentious explanation since Rinne puts his hand on his shoulder in a friendly manner. Only the grip of his fingers doesn't feel that soft and friendly.
"Well, ya know i didn't graduate, but you don't have to explain such things."
They both turn their heads towards the laughing Tatsumi. The day is really full of surprises. How long has it been since anyone heard him laugh so naïve and sincere for the last time?
"We have to go now," Tatsumi takes the small photo back. After all, this little gift is about to become his personal talisman. “You must be tired too, maybe I can make you a cup of tea?”
Of course Tatsumi was also tired. He could feel his own movements becoming a little more awkward, but if these two really stayed here to wait for him, then this small gesture is the least he can do to thank them. It seems that a dinner with ALKALOID will have to be postponed for another day.
"Really? I'm all for it! I wanna look at this dress," Rinne points to the box in Tatsumi's hands and grins somehow absurdly. "I mean, what it looks like. On ya. No! W-wait…"
"HiMERU prefers coffee."
Sometimes Amagi just needs to be stopped in time, but HiMERU likes to watch how his face becomes the same color as his bright red hair. There was something funny about it. And, damn it, he's curious too.
"Are you sure, HiMERU-san? It's getting late," as always reserved. HiMERU incomprehensibly grunts instead of a clear answer. "Alright then"
Waltz. Indeed, Kazehaya Tatsumi reminded him of the first waltz at a ball.
After buying a few strawberry pastries on the way, they finally found themselves on the threshold of the small apartment in which Tatsumi had been living lately. None of them have ever paid him a visit. Rinne allowed himself to turn his head with restrained curiosity in search of not only bookshelves or a desktop, but also some more interesting details such as photographs, accidentally forgotten things in the corner of the room or a silly fragrant candle. And he really found the photos on the windowsill next to the blooming indoor violets. Here Tatsumi was with ALKALOID memebers during one of the practices. It seems Anzu took a picture of them a little surreptitiously, and on the other — a little boy in an ironed suit was smiling from the photo, standing at the entrance to either a temple or a church — Rinne did not understand much about this. He turned to look at the elegant dress left on the small bed and grinned.
"Really, you shouldn’t have… It was me who invited you," At the same time, muffled voices were heard from the kitchen.
Yes, that's right, they volunteered to pay for dessert. And in the bakery Tatsumi, of course, did not dare to reprimand them at least a little bit, but at home nothing hinders him anymore. "Well,’ Rinne thinks, "let it stay on MERUMERU’s shoulders."
"It's a gift."
"Still, let me return at least half."
How persistent. That's what could be really annoying. Or cute. Both?
"HiMERU deems Tatsumi wants to offend HiMERU."
"That’s not-"
"Oi oi, so noisy, and I can’t even smell the tea," maybe he's the one who's needed here at times like this. This kitchen needs its hero. It seems that in relation to Tatsumi, Rinne and HiMERU also complemented each other really well. "MERUMERU is even more stubborn than you. How about the tea ceremony then?"
It took Tatsumi a few seconds before he happily ran into the bedroom, leaving the guests to wait for the kettle to boil. Dried raspberry fruits and mint from the mug were already filling the room with an enveloping sweet aroma. That's what he often smelled like in the mornings when they accidentally crossed paths in the cafeteria.
"I thought ya wanted coffee," Rinne said in a half-whisper and laughed without reproach, looking at how HiMERU changes in his face and ostentatiously turns away.
The dress, presented after the photoshoot, screamed Tatsumi’s name. Long, but not so pretentious, it reminded HiMERU of the fashion of the early Empire. Without a corset sticking into the waist, instead of it there was a thin ribbon belt. The neckline still revealed thin collarbones, but with his shoulders and back closed Tatsumi felt not so constrained. Several thin layers of lace brought out ornate floral patterns on the skirt, while the lush and light sleeves seemed to fly with his every move, occasionally revealing pale wrists. Instead of heavy accessories there are now only a thin white pendant and not immediately noticeable stud earrings. The clatter of the heels of the new shoes almost coincided with the clatter of the clock. His every step — measured and precise — was like the flapping of butterfly wings.
"I think it's a little unusual, but," Tatsumi puts two fragrant small cups on the table in front of his guests, accidentally touching the back of Rinne's head with his long sleeve. And this simple touch, like an electric charge, sends a ton of goosebumps over his skin, making their way right to the fingertips. "I really like it now."
‘And I really like you.’
‘I think you're important to me.’
The words that got up in a lump in the throat and drowned for today in the quiet song by a random group, coming from somewhere on the street. Tatsumi sinks into a chair between them both and finally reaches for the small piece of pastry. Neither HiMERU nor Rinne were in a hurry to eat, so he was a little uncomfortable. That's right, they would probably just laugh. But Tatsumi really wanted to try it.
"HiMERU thinks that this concept fits into his views on aesthetics," Sip after sip breaks the silence in their so-called tea ceremony.
"You're inspiring, Princess," Rinne said on an exhale and looked straight into Tatsumi’s eyes. Sometimes Kazehaya didn’t understand where that invisible border between jokes and sincerity was, but he did not doubt for a second now, feeling only how the blush on his cheeks burned even brighter since now he wasn’t wearing any makeup. "That guy was probably right. I mean, I say "princess" as a compliment, huh. There's nothing humiliating about women's clothing from the beginning."
Tatsumi blinks a couple of times and silently nods in agreement. Maybe he was too tired to answer, or maybe the extra words were not needed at all. He hadn’t known Amagi Rinne that long. But that was enough time to understand a lot. To understand and even love.
"I wouldn't mind trying it myself," Rinne laughed loudly again, taking another sip.
"HiMERU thinks it won’t suit you."
"MERUMERU thinks too much sometimes."
Word by word, they talked like this about nothing and everything in the world, until most of the lights outside the window went out, hiding the streets under the cover of absolute night. With another soft yawn, Tatsumi closes his eyes and does not notice how he allows himself to hide a little brazenly in the realm of dreams. HiMERU can feel how Tatsumi’s head slowly descend on his shoulder. Silk green hair, which has escaped from several butterfly-shaped hairpins, is spread over other’s idol shoulder. But HiMERU still doesn't move, trying not to disturb this moment of peace. He only listens to Kazehaya’s calm breath while Rinne gently touches Tatsumi’s hand, slightly intertwining their fingers.
There are only two intersecting understanding looks in the silence of this small kitchen now.
"Good night, Kazehaya Tatsumi."