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Teru’s hair bounces as he runs down the stairs of Kamome Academy, the questioning looks other students send his way slipping right past him. He doesn’t need to be reminded of how out of character he’s acting. Running down the hallways, breaking school rules: those are not things he usually does—very little is worth the trouble.
He’s Minamoto Teru after all, the student council president. Untouchable, unbothered, every student’s role model and the very picture of control.
Except he won’t be any of that for much longer, now that he has graduated. Not to the students of this school, anyway. Not to Aoi Akane and his always unimpressed and judgmental self. Though he can’t presume Akane ever saw him that way to begin with.
And speaking of him: just where in the world did that half-cockroach go?
This is Teru’s last day at school, ever. The last chance for his underclassmen to shower him with their love and appreciation. Akane should have been here by now, kissing the ground Teru walks on. But no, of course. Always bent in complicating his life, Akane has Teru looking for him instead. On Teru’s special day. It's unbelievable.
What option does he have but to humor him, though? It’s all he can do when his heart has shrunk into itself until all there was left was the sound of Akane’s name beating with the urgency of a ticking bomb.
He stops by the courtyard, only to be disappointed by the absence of the particular slouchy frame he’s seeking. So far, Akane’s not in the student council room, not in his classroom, not in the library, not in the courtyard. At this rate, Teru will have no choice but to make a fool of himself and ask Akane Aoi if she’s seen him.
And his heart won’t stop hammering inside his rib cage, fast and off axis like a machine on the verge of collapse. Just what is Akane doing, wasting Teru’s time like this?
Ever since Akane had broken into his life and turned it upside down, Teru had dreaded the arrival of this day—their expiration date. Whatever thread is it that links them together, it’s a faint one. Their relationship is contingent by nature, and Teru knows once the conditions for their allegiance are removed, Akane will happily fade from his life as if he had never existed.
But Teru isn’t the type to pursue someone, especially not someone who is into someone else. So, for the past few years leading up to this day, he had spent his time simply counting the time left, not even daring to hope for a plot twist. A countdown that went from years to months, to weeks, days, minutes.
It was a lulling sort of pain.
He leans against a wall to gather his thoughts for a second, feeling the first flicker of real annoyance lighting up inside him. He's looked everywhere already, just how hard can it be?
There's really only one place he hasn't checked. The idea is so cliché that it makes Teru laugh, but he still heads towards the stairs for another climb up.
He takes advantage of his long legs, skipping one every two steps. Teru’s body feels electrified, the way it does before an exorcism. It's the knowledge that something it's about to end. He turns his hands into fists, trying to dissolve the tingling sensation numbing his fingers.
He walks up the stairs all the way till the rooftop door. He holds his breath, counts to ten; and then he pushes the door open.
The bright spring sunshine blinds him for a second, but his eyes still manage to catch Akane’s dark silhouette splitting the open sky in half. Resting against the railing, Akane seems lost in thought as he stares down the school.
“Do you have any idea of how rude it is to not send off your senpai, Aoi?” Teru starts as he makes his way towards him. “I was expecting at least a bouquet of flowers from my vice-president.”
“I did the speech for the ceremony, didn’t I? What else do you want from me?”
Akane had delivered a beautiful speech full of praise for the outgoing generation, that was true—a speech that Teru had written for him. Pretty sure that didn’t count. Besides, Teru’d thought he’d earned something a bit more personal than that by this point. If not in account of their friendship, at least by virtue of all the hours they had spent together in the Student Council.
Teru would have loved nothing more than to start a petty argument over the technicalities if the rawness in Akane’s voice hadn't stopped him in his tracks. He turns around to look at him just to make sure he isn’t imagining it, but there it is: that expression Akane always wears when he’s angry at his own emotions, when he would rather be left alone than risk exposing them.
This is good, very good.
“What’s with the long face?” Teru teases, delighted, before he can stop himself. “Don’t tell me you came all the way up here to reminisce the good old days, Aoi?”
“Would it kill you to not laugh at me for once?”
Akane huffs as Teru drops his head down to hide his offending smile, his hands gripping the railing tight. If only Akane knew how much of what he reads as mocking sarcasm in Teru is sincere endearment, Teru wouldn’t have a single leg to stand on in any of their arguments.
“What are you doing here, anyway?” Akane asks through puffed out cheeks.
“Hiding,” Teru lies, because there’s no way he will tell him the real reason. “The last minute confessions were getting a bit out of hand,” he says, giving him his most disarming smile. “I hope you are not planning to confess too...?”
“Don’t be stupid.” Akane clicks his tongue, sending an annoyed stare at him.
That’s their usual script: Teru makes fun of him, Akane gets mad. It's comfortable, and Teru has come to anticipate it. But this time, something catches Akane's eye and Teru laugh dies on his throat as he suddenly grabs him by the collar, dragging him closer.
“Shouldn’t you have given this away by now, then?” Akane says,examining the handful of Teru's jacket he got between his hands.
Teru tries to peel his gaze away from his lips, distract himself by counting his eyelashes. He’s gotten Akane zapped for less, and yet this time he can’t bring himself to punish him. All he can do is shove him away, too many seconds too late to have any bite in it.
“Aren’t you getting a bit bold, Aoi?” Teru says, straightening his clothes back into place.
Akane has that smug smile on his face he always has when he thinks he has Teruin his pocket. It makes him want to beat him down a little, put him back in his place.
"No roof to hang you from and suddenly you decide to put up a challenge," he says. "And what in the world was all that about?"
"Your second button," Akane says, not letting the topic go.
"Oh, this?" Teru says, rolling his second button between two fingers.
The button boys give away to the girls they like.
It takes so little for Akane to disarm him. Just that and Teru feels about to blush, if he's not already red to the tip of his ears. If he could laugh at himself, he would.
“I'm not just going to give this to the first person that asks me out, Aoi,” Teru says instead, aiming to press some of Akane's buttons too. "How easy do you think I am? You should know better than anyone that I'm keeping this for Akane-san."
“I could throw you off the roof for that,” Akane threatens, tearing his gaze away from him. “It’s not like Ao-chan would take it, anyway,” he mumbles, as if trying to convince himself.
“You want to bet?”
Teru just can’t stop himself once he gets going, once he gets Akane's full attention.
“I told you not to make fun of me.”
“Then stop making it so easy!”
Teru lets his usual contained smile erupt into a full laugh that startles Akane next to him. Teru's body is still electrified, about to explode. At another time, he could have confused it for happiness, but he's too aware of his nervousness to believe it.
“Okay, I'll go easy on you. I guess I can make an exception today, seeing as it’s my last day," he adds, once he settles down.
They might as well acknowledge it.
“So generous,” Akane rolls his eyes. “I can’t believe I thought I would miss you.”
“You did?” Teru says, perking up.
"Don't push it."
This time he tries to swallow the laugh down. He feels lighthearted, like a few screws got loose deep inside himself. He holds onto the railing like an anchor, his knuckles going white from the pressure.
Akane doesn't seem like he has anything else to add for the moment, and Teru is more than happy to take a second to pull himself together, to close his eyes and feel how that same breeze that plays with Akane's hair brushes against his skin.
To try and etch the moment in his memory.
But even with his eyes closed, it's hard to focus on anything that isn't Akane's words and the gravity of Akane's presence right next to him. The same Akane that had just admitted he might miss him.
Every interaction of them is always brutally honest, he's used to that. But that honesty scarcely ever extends to their affection. Their trust, respect—those are all understated, all things that are usually buried under layers and layers of sarcasm.
And as much as it drives Teru insane, it's at least language he can speak.
But Akane has always been incredibly good at putting his world upside down, of not sticking to any discernible pattern. That habit of just spiting out whatever he has in his mind shouldn't even come as a surprise anymore, when it's one of the first things Teru noticed about him. But it's so radically different from the way Teru functions, it never fails to throw him off balance.
Teru takes a peek at him out of the corner of his eyes. There's always this jaded sadness to Akane's face whenever he's not wearing his glasses, it makes it hard to look away. It's been drawing Teru towards him since the very beginning, making him wonder if they aren't all that different deep down.
He's so beautiful, too. That's another thing about him that never fails to caught Teru off guard. And it's all making him incredible sad.
He can feel the time flowing through his body, merciless, one heartbeat at a time. Akane could at least take some pity on him and stop the world for a couple of seconds. Stretch this last moment to its breaking point and maybe even past that too, until time itself ebbs away from their present.
It's a useless train of thought, though. Akane has always been the definition of restrain when it comes to his powers, which is part of why Teru has been able to remain by his side. The rules are something Akane only ever breaks for Aoi—those same rules Teru is always happy to overlook for his sake.
Out of the two of them, it's a good thing it's Akane that ended up as the supernatural. There's no telling how many times Teru would have used the Clock Keepers' power to his own benefit just the past half an hour.
To have the bad guy play the hero and the good guy the monster—if not a sense of balance, the universe at least has a sense of irony.
"Congratulations, by the way," Akane starts, breaking the silence. "For making it into the school you wanted. Kou told me you want to be a teacher, is that right?"
"Yes," Teru says, taken a back by the topic.
Since when Akane and Kou discuss him? Not that he’s against it, but—odd.
"I bet you will do well in college, even though you are going to suck as a teacher,“ Akane says, almost to himself.
"Excuse me?" Teru says in mock offense, surprised at the sudden insult.
What’s up with Akane today?
“You are so smart it actually makes you stupid,” Akane says, letting the stream of words flow as if he were afraid they could lose momentum. “I don't think you are capable of understanding how a normal brain functions. Your students won't be able to keep up with you at all."
Should Teru feel flattered or offended?
“Good thing I'm handsome, then,” Teru says, trying to tip the scales back in his favor. “That will get me their attention anyway.”
Teru loves saying stuff like that in front of him, counting the times Akane can’t bring himself to deny it. But this time, Akane’s too lost on his end of the conversation to give him a reaction.
“Do you even want to be a teacher?” Akane asks, finally turning around to pin him down with a stare that’s almost pleading.
It forces Teru into having to consider the question, even if just for Akane’s sake.
“Well,” he says, after a moment of deliberation. “I'm not opposed to it.”
“That's not enough,” Akane sentences, looking away from him as if Teru had just failed a test. “You are only doing it so you can stay here as an exorcist, aren't you?”
Teru smiles a bitter smile, one of those that makes his eyes lose their playfulness. It’s the sort of private expression he only ever lets Akane see.
There's always some sense of satisfaction at having Akane read him so well, even when it's about the things he wants to keep from him. Especially when it’s about the things he wants to keep from him.
“You got me.” Teru rises his hands in surrender.
“But I do want to be a teacher,” Akane says, spitting the words out with the intensity of a war declaration. “Unlike you, I really want this.”
He what now?
Teru had never even entertained the possibility, but Akane's words open a whole new realm of possibilities.
For a second, Teru dares to envision a different future, one in which he doesn't have to say goodbye to Akane. One in which they both grow up to be teachers in Kamome Academy. One in which they are allowed to stay as they are, for as long as they want.
He even dares to wonder if the Clock Keepers wouldn't see the advantage in taking Akane back, letting him resume his position in a more permanent way.
It’s almost too good to be true.
“And how's that a problem?” Teru finally dares to ask.
“You are a problem,” Akane explodes. “Out of all things in the world, why do you always have to want what I want? Except you don’t even really want those things. You are too used to having everything handed to you on a silver platter to know what wanting is,” he says, and Teru can't help but recoil at the unexpectedness of the blow. “But you still outdo me on everything I attempt, you are always a step before me. I can’t seem to step out of your shadow.”
It has to be about Aoi, Teru figures. Only when it comes to her does Akane get this worked up. Just as Akane wouldn’t stop time for Teru, he wouldn’t get this mad over just him.
At least, it makes the hurt feel less personal.
How come Akane can read him as an open book, but still hasn’t figured out that’s not the Akane Teru’s interested in? But then, that’s a conversation Teru would rather not have; lest he talks himself into a corner.
“How was I supposed to know you wanted to be a teacher?” he offers instead.
“Forget it,” Akane says, to Teru’s surprise. It's not an apology, but an admission is more than he's ever gotten from him. Despite everything, Akane looks strangely defeated. “I don’t think that’s even what I’m mad about.”
“What are you mad about, then?” Teru asks, rubbing circles over his frown.
He's starting to get tired of this conversation.
“I'm just angry that you seem so content with being stuck in here for the rest of your life.”
Now Akane has completely lost him. If there’s one thing he thought Akane liked about him, it was his tendency to self-sacrifice. It was the one thing redeeming a guy like him, the one hope Teru grabbed onto for salvation.
What else could he do but keep following that path to its bitter end?
“Where is this coming from?” It's all Teru manages to say. “What is all this to you, anyway?”
“I’m not saying this for you. If anything, my motivations are entirely selfish,” Akane replies, not missing a beat. “There are things that might seem impossible to achieve until you see someone else doing it… or something like that. I guess you were that person for me, no matter how much I hated having to follow into your steps. If I got lost, everything became clearer once I looked at your direction.”
He's not sure when Akane stopped being angry at him, but the soft expression he has on his face it's not one Teru ever thought would be aimed at him. He's not sure when Akane started closing the distance between them either, but he can't help but notice when he feels the tip of Akane's shoes bumping into his freshly polished ones.
“So, it’s for my own sake that I’m going to ask you this,” Akane says, taking a deep breath. “Figure out what you want, and just take it.”
They are so close Teru could easily lean down and kiss him, so close that Teru has to wonder whether that isn't the challenge Akane is posing for him.
Teru doesn't plan to come off as dubitative as he feels, trying to read into Akane's eyes whatever the correct answer might be. But it's mostly that he couldn't have possibly planned for this.
For the first time in a long time, Teru's not sure that he’s up to the challenge.
The words Akane had said earlier are still sticking to the back of his mind, the echoes of fears that Teru usually doesn't bother to put into full-blown sentences. He's wondered too whether there's something wrong with him, whether the part of him that's supposed to desire has simply stopped working.
Teru has stopped listening to his own heart for too long to even recognize its voice between the more familiar sounds of all the roles, expectations and responsibilities he's taken over his shoulders.
But if he still has it in him—if he could want something, he would want Akane.
Or maybe he would want Akane to want him. Right now, all he seems to want is for Akane to close the gap and take that step Teru feels too paralyzed to take.
But then, Akane is shaking his head and taking a step back.
“See you around, President,” he says, resting a hand on his shoulder.
It shouldn't be that easy for Akane to leave, nor it should happen so fast, but it does. Just like that, Akane leaves and all Teru can do is watch it happen, frozen on his spot. He follows him until his body completely sinks into the stairs, the last red strand of hair disappearing out of view.
He’s never felt this helpless or powerless before.
Instinctively, he places a hand on his chest, trying to soothe its beating. It's not something he notices until one of his fingers gets tangled in a hole in his school jacket.
He sees it then: the button closest to his heart has gone missing.
Everything goes still, as if the laws governing the world had lost their footing. Only by the noise coming from the courtyard can Teru tell that it's not time itself that has stopped, but only the clock that winds his heart.
He stares at the hole in his jacket, then at the empty space by the door through which Akane had just vanished. Teru tries to piece the pieces together, but he can't even bring himself to finish the questions: Could Akane…? But when…? Why...?
And every question is filled with possibilities.
Teru's world had permanently shifted in that rooftop alright, just not in the way he'd expected—more a change of course than a proper ending. It's one of those events whose meaning one can only grasp in retrospective, and Teru is a bit terrified.
He's such a coward.
The idea that Akane could need Teru's lead almost makes him laugh. If there's one person he knows that always heads straight for what he wants, it's Akane. It's true that his desires rarely deviate from Aoi's, but that's not the point. Akane wanted her, and he had never faltered in that pursuit.
Meanwhile, Teru only knows how to play games, hide behind rules, disguise his feelings as sarcasm. He baits Akane into taking the button Teru wanted to give him with a line about the girl he likes, every gesture carefully designed to rile him up. But he's helpless.
It's Akane the one who always takes what he wants, and it's Teru who's playing catch up. All he can hope is that next time, he will at least stand up for the challenge.