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“I’m sorry.”
“It’s okay.”
“I’m so sorry,” Mizuki chokes out as they crumple into themself in the front seat of Rui’s car, pulling their knees up to their chest so tight that if they were made of anything other than soft flesh, they’d slice straight through the meat of their chest and bleed all over the shiny leather seats.
“Mizuki, it’s okay,” Rui repeats as he puts his seatbelt on, one hand on the steering wheel and the other on the stick shift; really, Mizuki doesn’t know why Rui drives a stick shift. He doesn’t seem like the type to, but he does. Mizuki’s never asked why, always taking it as fact that Rui’s had the same car since he turned 16 and this is the first time they’ve even dared to wonder why.
Mizuki wonders what else they’ve never asked about.
“You shouldn’t have to come pick me up every time I fight with them,” Mizuki whispers as Rui pulls out of the driveway.
“I told you, I don’t mind,” Rui says quietly. “Where do you wanna go?”
“Anywhere. Anywhere but here,” Mizuki mutters, but it’s not what they really mean.
Anywhere. Anywhere with you.
Really, Mizuki would go anywhere with Rui. They’d crawl through deserts and hike mountains just to stand by Rui’s side; just to bathe in Rui’s presence and pretend like anything would change if they weren’t there. To pretend that Rui would do the same for them. To pretend that this isn’t all they are; a midnight drive and choked back words because Mizuki wouldn’t dare to think that they should be allowed to bleed all over Rui’s car.
Rui drives and drives and Mizuki slumps back into the seat, digging their fingernails into their palm. It’s late and Mizuki’s just noticing that Rui’s in his pajamas. Mizuki must’ve woken him up. If Mizuki would allow themself to hope for more than they deserve, they’d wonder if Rui rushing out in the middle of the night without even bothering to change means something, but Mizuki doesn’t hope. Mizuki knows what they deserve and Rui isn’t one of those things.
Because Rui is just so good.
Rui is smart and kind and he is everything that Mizuki has ever wanted. He is everything that Mizuki isn’t allowed to have. He is everything.
“I’m sorry,” Mizuki says again and it’s like that’s all they can do; apologize. All they do is fucking apologize over and over and over. They don’t know how to do anything else.
“I said it’s okay. You know I don’t mind,” Rui says softly and it sucks because Mizuki does know. They know that Rui’s said over and over that he really doesn’t mind, but every time they can’t help but think that Rui could be doing something, anything better than driving around at midnight because Mizuki had sent him a text asking for help.
A car drives past them, a flash of white headlights on an otherwise empty street. Mizuki focuses their gaze out the window, watching the streetlights pass them by. They don’t know where they’re going, but Rui’s driving so confidently, one hand on the wheel and the other wrapped around the stick shift as he looks out onto the road in front of him, occasionally glancing to the side to catch a glimpse of Mizuki.
Mizuki tries not to look at Rui—tries not to look at the one person able to see through them with terrifying clarity. They try not to give Rui the opportunity to dig his hands through their chest and pull out their still beating heart because Mizuki knows that they would let him.
Mizuki wants to grab Rui by the shoulders and shake him and scream. They want to scream their voice hoarse just to try to get Rui to listen to them. They want to scream, why can you see me? Why can you see me like I see you, but you can’t feel the way my heart beats against my chest for you? Why don’t you know? Why would I die for you?
Because Rui should know the answer. Rui knows Mizuki better than they know themself. Rui knows every marking on their skin like the back of his hand and he knows exactly what colour the blood pumping through Mizuki’s veins is. Rui is the blood pumping through Mizuki’s veins. Rui knows Mizuki like a best friend, like a lover, like a reflection. Rui knows Mizuki like they should’ve been one person but whatever cruel God watches over them thought it’d be funny to tear them apart; to tear their kindred souls apart with the reminder that they’d never be able to get as close to each other as they crave. Even the separation of flesh and skin between them is too much.
“Rui, where are we going?” Mizuki finally builds up the courage to ask when Rui takes a left turn onto a street that Mizuki doesn’t recognize.
“I thought you said anywhere?” Rui laughs like a cruel joke because the way his laugh rattles around Mizuki’s chest like poison through their bloodstream is too much to fucking bear.
“You know I’d go anywhere with you, Rui,” they admit.
Rui’s silent for a moment and then he slowly drives into an empty parking lot. “I don’t think you realize I’d do the same for you.”
Rui leans back in his seat when he’s finally parked the car, tilting his head up to look at the stars through the glass. They’re in some deserted parking lot, nearby streetlights washing a wave of golden light over them and there are no other cars anywhere to be seen.
“I forget sometimes,” Mizuki says softly and then after a second, they add, “and I get horribly jealous sometimes.”
“Why?” Rui cocks his head to the side, shifting in his seat to look at Mizuki and it’s a stupid fucking question because he already knows the answer; Mizuki doesn’t think there’s anything Rui doesn’t know about them.
“I see you with them sometimes and I see fucking red. I know you can have other friends and I shouldn’t care, but I do because you’re—you’re—“ Mizuki bites down on their tongue, the faint taste of iron filling their mouth.
Rui raises an eyebrow. “Because I’m yours?”
Mizuki’s eyes snap towards Rui. “Yeah.”
Even now Mizuki is unable to find an adequate way to summarize their relationship; something that dances the line of platonic and romantic. More than friends, but not quite lovers. Something like the same person trapped in two separate bodies, always clawing at the walls to try to return to the other.
They’d tried to explain it to Ena once. Soulmates, she’d suggested, but even that isn’t right. Soulmates implies two separate souls destined to be together no matter what; Mizuki and Rui are one soul. One heart, one brain, the same blood running through both of their veins.
They aren’t destined to be together, they are together. They are one and the same. Everything that begins in Mizuki, ends in Rui.
Folie à deux.
The presence of the same or similar delusional ideas in two persons closely associated with one another.
Where I end and you begin.
Or maybe they’re just crazy.
“I don’t want them to have you like I have you.” Mizuki looks at Rui, soft pink eyes catching with the striking gold of Rui’s.
“Nobody has me like you do,” Rui says like it’s the simplest thing in the world.
Then why, Mizuki thinks, why can’t you see how I want you?
Why, Mizuki thinks, over and over and over again, would it really kill you if we kissed? If we destroyed the barriers around us that we built with our own calloused hands, afraid of what we could do to each other? Would it really be so bad if we destroyed each other?
That’s what they are, right? Inevitable.
They’re going to destroy each other somehow. They can’t get too close because Rui’s touch fucking scalds their skin because why can’t he get closer? Why can’t they be one like the universe intended?
“You graduate tomorrow,” Mizuki whispers, brushing a hand through their hair.
“Yeah,” comes Rui’s response, short and clipped.
“You’ll leave me tomorrow,” Mizuki barely gets the words out before Rui’s hand snaps up to their face, caressing the side of their cheek.
“Never,” he whispers back, running his thumb along the curve of Mizuki’s cheekbones, his bottom fingers resting under their chin. “I would never.”
Something gets stuck on Mizuki’s tongue, the bloodstained words of ‘I love you’ hanging from their lips. They can’t say it; even now, they can’t find the words to say it properly.
To explain to Rui how much they love him. How much they want him. How much they need him.
There aren’t words to explain Mizuki’s desires, especially the ones that they can’t allow themself to have.
And Rui’s so good. So sweet and kind and everything that someone should be.
Except with Mizuki.
Except when they both bring out the worst in each other; the jagged, sharp edges of their hearts that they bare to each other, beating and bleeding because nobody understands them like they do each other.
There’s something about this, Mizuki thinks, something about someone who brings out the absolute worst in you. Who you want to die for, who you want to kill for.
Maybe that’s why the words always get stuck on the tip of Mizuki’s tongue. Maybe this is all they’re meant to be. Something in between the ripped pages of everything. Not nothing, never nothing, but only something. Maybe they can’t be everything.
Maybe if they were everything, they’d set fire to the world and watch each other burn over the carnage. Maybe they’d destroy everything. Maybe everything deserves to be destroyed. Maybe they’d destroy each other.
Maybe they deserve to be destroyed.
Maybe it’s inevitable.
Rui carefully removes his hand from Mizuki’s face like one sharp touch could slice them open and they’d bleed all over the leather seats of Rui’s car and maybe Mizuki would be okay with that.
Maybe they’d like to bleed if it’s for Rui.
“I didn’t fight with my parents,” Mizuki says when Rui starts the car again, the engine roaring through the dead silence of the night.
“I know,” Rui replies, glimpsing towards Mizuki as he starts to pull out of the parking lot.
“I just wanted to see you,” Mizuki admits.
“I know.” Rui smiles. “I was on my way anyways.”
Isn’t it funny? How they’re so interconnected that Rui can read Mizuki’s mind when they’re not even in the same place, but he can’t tell how badly Mizuki wants to grab his face and kiss him until they can’t breathe.
Or maybe he knows.
He knows that all they are is tragically inevitable, pointless to the end. Why let it all end now? Why ruin their something for everything?
“I could be everything with you,” Mizuki whispers, half hoping that Rui doesn’t hear them. It’s a confession, a prayer, something. Always just something.
Rui’s silent for a moment, his eyes focused on the open road and then his gaze snaps to Mizuki, golden eyes ablaze with something that, for the first time ever, Mizuki can’t read.
“We could never be everything,” he says. “It would never be enough for us. Nothing is ever enough for us.”