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Why would someone miss the chance to go to a carnival? Maybe if they were feeling a little under the weather, or if they had no one to go with, they would have good reason not to go. However, these reasons were insufficient in stopping Rudi Gillen, who was thoroughly exhausted after the most gruelling, stressful semester of his academic career.
In early June, he had received a phone call from his mother, who vehemently reminded him of how proud she was of him for succeeding at yet another semester of medical school. His heart was heavy as she applauded his massive efforts and dedication, the sole causes of his top grades, her smile audible from towns away. She was blissfully unaware that her son was a cheater.
Indeed, Rudi had cheated on one of his final exams. He had seen no other way to attain the highest grade in the class, which he desperately needed. The endeavour had been successful, and he was once again at the top of his cohort in all of his classes; the natural order had been restored.
There was only one clause, one crack, in the execution. He had been caught cheating by Kenzo Tenma, the new exchange student from Japan, the one Rudi had been so resolved to surpass that he had resorted to cheating.
Though their eyes had met the instant after Rudi had peeked at his cheat sheet, the incident went unreported, and he returned to the status of top student without question. Kenzo, whose mystique was of a highly dedicated but sociable student, had not uttered a word about the incident, leaving Rudi to ponder day and night if and when the truth would inevitably emerge.
The grades had already been posted, so what was Kenzo waiting for?
Rudi wanted to hate Kenzo for initially surpassing his grades, for attracting attention and friends because of it, for being the one to catch him cheating, and for allowing Rudi to squirm by withholding that information. Sometimes he really did hate Kenzo, wishing that the exchange student had simply studied at another school, but at other times, while entrenched in thought, he could not escape the reality that this horrible dilemma was his own creation. He was smart enough to know that.
With final exams completed and summer gearing up, he should have swiftly returned to a more practical sleep schedule, but instead, restless nights passed with his eyes fixed on the ceiling as he pondered his mistake. Following exams, he had become only more dilapidated from what exhaustive studying had reduced him to, riddled with cold sweats, a lacking appetite, and even more sleep debt.
He was out of sorts when answering the acclamatory phone call from his mother, who told him to expect a small gift in the mail: two tickets to a travelling carnival in Heidelberg.
"Who is the second ticket for?" Rudi had asked.
"Go with one of your friends," his mother had said, "You're all grown up now."
While Rudi quietly lamented that he had made only a handful of friends since moving to Heidelberg, and they were all away for the summer, his mother described in detail the reasoning behind the gift.
“Do you remember when you were little and we used to go to the carnival? You loved it so much," she laughed, "You deserve to have as much fun as you had way back then, especially after such a tough semester.”
Rudi was certain that he instead deserved the restlessness he was drowning in, that the warm, fuzzy clouds in his conscience were part of his punishment for being academically dishonest.
Still, he went to the carnival.
Did he even want to go? Truthfully, he wasn’t confident he would still enjoy carnivals as an adult, but he figured it would be better to only waste one of the tickets gifted to him than both.
Maybe it would be fun, if his memory was reliable and he hadn't changed too much as a person. Of course he had changed, but how much?
The first thing he noticed at the entrance gate was the volume. The crowds. The noise. The extensive commotion. Everyone was chattering with family, friends, and dates; children were screaming and laughing; the pop song that Rudi always skipped on his transistor radio was blaring on a speaker attached to a lamppost.
He held his aching head and sighed. He remembered the volume, but it wasn’t so pleasant anymore. He much preferred the quiet as an adult.
The general layout matched his memory, with endless vendors of food—cotton candy, pretzels, and sausages—some roller coasters and rides, like the ferris wheel and carousel, and a host of games at little stalls. The colours, however, were less vibrant than what his memory relayed.
The games included shooting games, darts, ring and ball tosses, among others, but the hefty prizes hanging at the top of the stalls were what truly enticed the carnival-goers: massive stuffed bears, rabbits, and lovable cartoon characters.
Some things never changed.
The prizes had always been hung up high, far out of reach, propped up enough for the young Rudi to see. The stalls had been too tall for him to be able to play. Because of this, his parents would deny him from trying when he asked.
"And besides, how do you know you want to play if you can't see the game?"
“I don’t want to play the game," Rudi had replied, "I just want the prize."
His parents then shook their heads no: neither Rudi nor themselves would be playing. In hindsight, Rudi realized that they hadn’t wanted to waste their money on a losing game, especially if Rudi hadn’t been interested in the game itself.
“We can buy you a teddy bear on the way home,” his father had said.
“But I want this one!” Rudi exclaimed, pointing to the teddy with the friendly smile, “I want to win!”
“You want to win but you don’t care for the game? You're not making sense, Rudi.”
Years later, Rudi was more than tall enough to know whether a stall was a shooting game or a ball toss game. He regarded the toys pinned to a darts stall with heavily lidded eyes, vaguely faint from the sweltering sun above and his smarting head.
A great white rabbit stared back at him with brown marble eyes. It was glaring at him.
Why?
He wanted to find out.
He wanted the rabbit. Some things never changed, but surely, he could win this prize if he simply tried.
He paid the vendor for six darts. If he could pop five balloons with those darts, the rabbit would be his. Rubbing at his brow, the back of his hand was coated in a thick sweat.
Oddly enough, in the thick heat of summer, he was chilled to the bone; even his sweat was cold. He wished he had bought some water before paying because his bottle was empty and his throat was shrivelled and distracting.
The row of six darts was laid on the wooden ledge before him.
He picked up his first dart and methodically aimed it with one eye shut before throwing it. He popped one balloon, and then another with his second dart.
“You’re quite good at this,” the moustached man behind the stall smiled.
Of course he was good at this. He could do anything he set his mind to, even while lightheaded and dehydrated. Determination overruled ailment, he assured himself.
He rubbed his clammy hands together before aiming the third dart. He missed. He wouldn’t let this faze him, though. If he could pop a balloon with each of his remaining darts, he would still win the grand prize.
The fourth dart popped a third balloon, and Rudi was back on track toward success.
At last, he would acquire the prize he had coveted so much in his youth. He hoped that finally holding it would be gratifying. He took a deep breath and cleared his dry throat—he really wished he had some water—and readied his fifth dart. His fingers were growing tremulous, his head pounding with increasing gusto under the dense heat. One eye winked shut, and he propped his dart at a specific balloon.
He was about to launch the dart when he heard a laugh—gentle but resounding—so familiar his hand faltered.
The dart missed.
Rudi pivoted to find Kenzo Tenma on the other side of the street, laughing and clapping at a performer puppeteering two wooden dolls on strings.
A hot fury rose up Rudi’s chest and suddenly Kenzo’s wide eyes met his.
“That’s too bad, but you can still win one of our smaller prizes if you land your final dart,” he heard the moustached man behind him. For an instant, the carnival had seemed to fall quiet, but the noise quickly picked up again, ringing in his ears.
He looked down at the ledge of the stall, where one dart remained.
Kenzo was quickly approaching. He was holding a green balloon that dragged through the air behind him, though no people followed him. He was alone.
“Nevermind,” Rudi sighed as he turned away. "I only wanted the grand prize."
“Rudi?" Kenzo smiled and waved from a few metres away, though Rudi hardly detected it with the carnival racket screeching in his ears and his pounding heart drumming in his head.
Kenzo appeared much healthier than Rudi had ever felt since exams ended, with a bright complexion and supple cheeks. His hair was shorter than it had been when he had caught Rudi cheating; this enhanced his wide brown eyes, which struck Rudi with such a warmth he felt they were burning two holes straight through him.
"Hi," he finally managed.
He tried and failed to blink away the dizziness clouding his head. This was a regrettable state for Kenzo to have found him in. Any state was regrettable following the cheating incident, but within seconds he already sensed that this would be worse than every follow-up encounter he had imagined.
Was this finally it? Would this be the moment Kenzo mentioned the incident? Would Rudi finally be disgraced for his academic offence, crowning Kenzo at the top of the class, where he belonged? Rudi hoped removing this weight from his conscience would at least be relieving. The heaviness was growing unbearable.
"What a coincidence to see you when school is done. Are you playing one of the games?" Kenzo asked, gesturing at the balloon darts stall.
Rudi peeked back at the white rabbit hanging from the stall. It continued to glare at him.
“I just lost,” he shrugged, vainly attempting to rub the clamminess from his hands, “Are you by yourself?”
"My date was cancelled, so yeah," Kenzo said, "I didn't want to waste both my tickets, though. Same for you?"
He spoke with such ease, a feat Rudi could scarcely accomplish as his head pounded and as his fingers trembled, as he drowned in cold sweat. Nevertheless, he was certain he wouldn’t have generated too great a response to Kenzo’s words even with a level head.
"You… had a date?"
Kenzo frowned before forging a smile. His eyes dropped to the ground. "You look so surprised, Rudi."
Rudi’s heart panged. Kenzo had really planned a date? Was he in a relationship?
Rudi’s blood began to freeze with jealousy, deluging like torrential rapids through his arms, across his tremulous fingers. Of course Kenzo was in a relationship. He made such a performance of having numerous friends, always answering their questions before and after class to showcase how social he was. He had been the cheerier friend and the better student—the fairer student—so he was certainly the better boyfriend, too.
"Would you like to go on a ride with me?" Kenzo gestured at the ferris wheel on the horizon line. “The ferris wheel, maybe?”
Instantaneously, the image of Rudi and Kenzo cramped into a passenger cart of the ferris wheel emerged: Rudi shivering in his chilly sweat as Kenzo declared that he would be reporting him to the board for his horrible offence, that his academic career was over, and that he had no chance to escape.
The sun glared into the window, blinding the claustrophobic Rudi, who could not escape the small capsule or even move as Kenzo frowned and shook his head, speaking with complete honesty about how much he disdained him for cheating.
"No!" Rudi quickly exclaimed at the nauseating image, and Kenzo's expression softened. "No. I'm, um," he paused to clear his throat, busied his eyes by glancing back at the stuffed rabbit pinned up high on the darts stall, "I'm frightened by heights."
Kenzo nodded. "I see."
Rudi nodded affirmatively. Hopefully, this rejection would be enough to avoid confrontation. Hopefully, Kenzo would not insist on having this conversation out in the open. If he was planning that, Rudi was simply not prepared. He had never been good at confrontation, and in this particular case, he was wholly aware that he deserved to be confronted. He knew he deserved to be berated, but that didn't mean he also wanted it.
Was it selfish to have hoped the humiliation wouldn’t be entirely public, commencing on a sweaty summer afternoon intended to be healing?
"Are you alright?” Kenzo suddenly peeped, “You look a little pale."
The wind picked up, and Kenzo almost lost grip of his balloon before catching it.
"I'm fine." Rudi breathlessly assured, shivering, “I’m always pale.”
Kenzo chuckled. Rudi couldn’t decipher what was funny. He rubbed at his brow and found more sweat.
"Do you get motion sickness, too?” Kenzo asked, “Maybe we can try that ride. With the horses."
He pointed to the carousel, slowly rotating with intricately decorated horses—white, brown, and black—wearing colourful, ornate saddles and capes. The top of the carousel was striped red and white, lined with gold lights.
"The carousel?” Rudi blurted, “Motion sickness isn't a problem on that one.”
Standing still, he already felt that he was spinning.
"Why don’t we try that one, then?" Kenzo suggested, and without missing a beat, he proceeded toward the carousel.
“Wait,” Rudi started, “I didn’t mean—”
"It's nice to be able to do this now that exams are over," Kenzo grinned. He stopped at the end of the line awaiting the carousel, behind a young couple holding hands.
Rudi wasn’t sure what was going on anymore, but he sensed that he deserved it. He had no right to flee from Kenzo with the leverage his genius classmate had over him. With the mention of exams, he was probably easing into the topic of Rudi’s sinful mistake.
"Do you have summer plans?"
Rudi flinched. A change in subject? That was unexpected.
"Research supervised by Dr. Reichwein,” he blurted, “And you?"
"How exciting. I always thought his class was so interesting,” Kenzo smiled, “Me, I applied to work at the Heinemann group."
Rudi nodded fervently, thoughtlessly. With chilling nausea pricking goosebumps all over him, his face pouring with sweat, he couldn’t prevent being slightly preoccupied, even knowing that humiliation and disgrace awaited him.
The Heinemann group: they dealt with neurosurgery, right? Rudi had heard from his classmates that neurology and neurosurgery were where Kenzo’s interests lay, so that made sense.
“Cool. Cool."
The line began to move, and the people ahead began to step onto the carousel, selecting which horse to sit on.
Kenzo pursed his lips. “Are you sure you’re alright, Rudi? You don’t have to be nervous—”
“I’m fine,” Rudi vehemently assured as he stepped onto the carousel. “Let’s just ride this merry-go-round now.”
“Alright,” Kenzo murmured.
They chose two horses, one white and one brown, and Kenzo had begun to hop on when Rudi paused in his dizziness.
Kenzo was fumbling with his hands, failing to get a grip on the horse and hoist himself on as he clung to the ribbon of his green balloon with one hand. He grappled with the bar connected to the horse and the balloon escaped him, rising until it touched the top of the carousel, out of reach.
“Oh no!” he exclaimed.
He glanced over his shoulder in Rudi's direction, and Rudi instinctively reached a hand out; Kenzo wordlessly grabbed it and held onto the bar of his horse as he mounted himself on.
Kenzo's hand was larger than Rudi's, but more thin and elegant, with long fingers that certainly suited him better to neurosurgery than Rudi's smaller, clammy hands did.
Once Kenzo was up on his horse, his fingers still wrapped around Rudi's palm, he smiled.
"Thank you."
Sitting on the finely painted stallion, illuminated by the warm lights of the carousel that painted his tan skin gold, he looked princely, Rudi realized. Not only was he the most intelligent and sociable individual from their cohort: he was also exceedingly handsome. Overall, he was more likeable and vital than Rudi in seemingly every way, with warmer hands, richer skin, and lips that looked most natural when curled into a smile. Under the mix of natural and artificial lighting, he was a sort of mirage, ethereal and dreamlike.
Rudi struggled to discern whether meeting Kenzo was a dream or a nightmare. He had assumed it would be a nightmare to reunite with the classmate who had every right to disdain him, but Kenzo himself was a dream.
He was jolted when the carousel suddenly began moving; he started to stumble back, away from Kenzo's grip, but Kenzo extended his hand and caught him.
“I got you!”
When Rudi blinked away the initial startle, he found that Kenzo was beaming.
“Thank you,” Rudi swallowed.
His heart was thundering as he hopped onto the horse beside Kenzo’s, swaying with the motion of the carousel as he stepped up. The rotating ride felt faster than he had supposed. From his youth, he only recalled the laughter, not the angular velocity. He had never been nauseated on a carousel until this day.
Kenzo’s balloon had drifted close to him; he stretched up until the ribbon was in reach and he grabbed it. It bobbed slightly as it steadied, and he extended it to his classmate, who smiled broadly as he leaned over to take it.
“Thanks, Rudi!” he exclaimed, and then he returned to hugging the bar of his stallion, the balloon dragging behind him, the ribbon taut. He closed his eyes and smiled, not watching the carnival as it passed by.
Rudi regarded his classmate as he stayed put just like that, listening to the chime of the keyboard singing from the carousel speakers, which drowned out the incessant noise of the carnival. The surroundings beyond the jumping stallions blurred, grew irrelevant as Rudi focused on Kenzo’s carefree smile and calmly shut eyes.
He was lovely. How could he look so lovely with someone he disdained? How could someone look so perfect?
Rudi’s vision was fogging up. Blinking did no use in removing the fog; Kenzo only obscured.
He sighed. In such a tranquil moment, was Kenzo truly preparing to expose Rudi for his offence? Or had he simply closed his eyes and pretended he had never seen Rudi’s wrongdoing? Would he simply avert his eyes forever and allow Rudi to wade in guilt instead?
He wasn’t sure which fate he preferred.
The ride gradually came to a stop and he hopped off his horse.
"That was fun," he heard Kenzo say.
Kenzo stood before him, with one hand held over his heart and a big smile curled on his face.
"It went by faster than I expected," he said, "I still feel like it’s spinning."
Rudi nodded and they stepped onto the pavement together, but Rudi rocked forward, unadjusted to the stationary ground.
"Oops!” Kenzo said as he caught him by the shoulders, “Are you alright?"
Rudi winced, held onto his forehead. Kenzo was right: the world was still spinning, blearing and darkening as his eyes watered. The clamour of the carnival was dying, though the jingle of the carousel music persisted, and the sound of Kenzo’s voice was just barely discernible.
"Rudi?"
He looked up and saw that Kenzo’s balloon was quickly rising up into the sky.
***
Kenzo was sitting at his desk, basking in the evening twilight that trickled through the window when sounds of rumpling emerged behind him. He dropped his book and turned around. His bedroom was tightly packed, just large enough to fit in a twin bed, a desk, and a nightstand. A single desk lamp was on and shapes beyond the desk were difficult to distinguish with an unfocused eye, but Kenzo was alert when Rudi finally roused.
His classmate rose slowly, blond hair sticking out every which way. Even in the dim lighting, he was notably pallid.
"Hi, Rudi."
At the shattered silence, Rudi jolted up. "Kenzo!" he exclaimed in a hoarse voice, “Huh? What?”
Kenzo dragged his chair to the bedside and sat. Seeing an acquaintance sick in bed was strange; he almost seemed a complete stranger, but his state was so organic and intimate he couldn’t have been more himself, in a subtle sense. Still, his eyes were unusually narrow, his hair was an unbrushed mess, and his complexion was grey. The look didn’t suit him.
"I didn’t know where to take you, so I just brought you home," Kenzo responded to his classmate’s expression of incredulity. "How are you feeling? You have a fever, you know."
"’S fine,” Rudi squeaked, his voice breaking, “Sorry for imposing."
He rose onto his elbows and abruptly noticed that he was wearing a new shirt. Kenzo had given him a change of clothes when they arrived at the apartment, but judging by the perplexity painted on his face, he didn’t remember it.
He had been out of sorts since his first hello at the darts stand. Kenzo scolded himself for not addressing that sooner, especially as he assisted Rudi out of the carnival to find a taxi.
"I'll go home. I'll go home," Rudi had said, but when Kenzo asked where that was, he had been unresponsive.
He was horribly faint and fell asleep almost instantly when helped into the backseat. What appeared to be a fever was verified after Kenzo carried the drowsy Rudi into his apartment. Confused but pliant, he had accepted the change of clothes, drank some water, and taken the medicine left at his bedside before swiftly crashing asleep in Kenzo's bed.
He rested his head in a palm as he drew back the bedsheet. “I’ll just go home, then.”
He was like a broken record.
"No,” Kenzo said, stopping him with a careful hand around his wrist. He pressed a thumb against Rudi's pulse and frowned. “See? You're burning hot and your heart is pounding."
"It’s fine,” Rudi weakly huffed, “I'll just go."
Kenzo let go of his wrist and sighed. "Do you want to see a doctor?"
Rudi’s heavily lidded eyes narrowed. "I already see one. Oh no," he muttered, and he began to frantically comb his fingers through his hair as if to tame it.
Kenzo stifled a chuckle at that comment. It was a shame to have a fever, but Rudi’s blunt disposition was endearing. Perhaps his genius classmate was always snappy and witty; Kenzo had not yet found the chance to know what he was ordinarily like on a personal level. All he knew was derived from observation. For someone who was so often studying alone, he was difficult to approach.
Kenzo had jumped at the opportunity to say hello to him at the carnival. Perhaps that eagerness was what eluded him from noticing that his classmate was unwell sooner.
"Have some water, Rudi." A glass of water waited on the nightstand beside them. “I’ll make a snack for you, too."
Rudi continued to adjust his hair until Kenzo handed him the water, which he hungrily drank. Kenzo took that as a green light to go to the kitchen to prepare a snack. Flicking on the light in the kitchen, he winced at the brightness.
“Do you like apples?” Kenzo asked from the kitchenette. He was already rinsing an apple when he heard a grumbled response.
“I don't want help from you,” the hoarse voice slowly started, “Don't want to owe you any more."
Kenzo fumbled with the apple, grabbed a plate and a paring knife before stumbling back to the bedroom. Rudi was curled under the bedsheet again, facing the wall, his blond head still a mess.
"What are you talking about? You don’t owe me anything,” Kenzo said, hastily slicing the apple over the plate on his lap. Luckily, Rudi still hadn’t budged by the time Kenzo began methodically peeling the apple slices with careful precision. At least he wasn't jumping to leave anymore.
A light silence grew, and the soft crunch of the apple being peeled soothed Kenzo with the idea that he had chosen a good fruit. Perhaps Rudi was too exhausted to speak. It would help him to conserve his strength. The quiet persisted, and Kenzo had prepared a few apple slices when he suddenly heard Rudi’s low voice.
“But you saw me that day.”
Kenzo dropped his knife with a loud clang.
Rudi flinched.
"Listen," Kenzo started in a small voice, "Don't worry about—"
"I know you saw me," Rudi interrupted. He hummed before continuing in a hush. "I know it's horrible of me."
Reticent, Kenzo left the plate on the bedside table and proceeded back to the kitchen to clean the paring knife. After drying it, he waited a short while at the sink, doing nothing as he let some time pass.
The window by the dining table let in some moonlight. Echoes of distant traffic and sirens leaked into the apartment.
When he returned to his bedroom a few minutes later, Rudi was sitting upright, scrutinizing an apple slice in his hand.
Kenzo said nothing, stood at the door frame and watched Rudi with a fond smile as he squinted at the apple crescent.
"What is this?" Rudi eventually croaked.
Kenzo quickly lit up and brought his desk lamp to the nightstand to illuminate the apple slice. When he sat on the edge of the bed, Rudi's warmth was palpable beside him. He directed the lamp to focus on his apple slice.
Half of the slice was peeled to show white apple, while the other half had an unpeeled v-shape of red peel carefully left on and pushed up.
"It's actually—it’s a rabbit. See?” He pointed to the peel that was curled to stick up, “Those are the ears. And I poked in little eyes. And a smile."
Rudi’s drowsy expression did not change, but after a pause, he ate the apple slice. When Kenzo handed him the plate, he ate another. Kenzo took the slices that weren’t yet peeled into rabbits and carefully crafted them under the lamplight, silently handing them to Rudi as they were finished.
When the apple was finished, Kenzo put the plate on the nightstand and pushed some clutter aside.
“Was that good?”
Rudi’s eyes lowered. He pursed his lips and said nothing.
“You should get some rest now,” Kenzo added.
He patted Rudi’s hair back, combed his fingers through it to tame it just a little, and Rudi deflated even more. Kenzo continued until he looked a little more like himself again.
"There you go," he smiled.
“Thank you," Rudi whispered.
Kenzo gave him one last pat on the head as he got off the bed. “Let me know if you need anything.”
He shut the lamp and left Rudi alone to rest.
Rudi slept alone in Kenzo's bed, but a few hours later, when night fully bloomed, Kenzo set up a futon beside him. He slept soundly until very early morning, when the first glints of an orange sunrise peaked in through the window. A single dove was singing, hardly audible from inside.
Kenzo turned on his side and saw that Rudi was sitting half-upright in the near darkness, holding something. After blinking away the sleep from his eyes, he recognized that he was holding a carnival ticket, his spare ticket that had fallen through.
"Good morning, Rudi. How are you?"
Rudi was less gaunt but still pale, and his eyes were squinted almost completely shut.
"At the carnival, too?" he murmured, "A date?" He held the ticket closer to his face as if to inspect it despite the dark.
"Ah, my date cancelled on me yesterday," Kenzo smiled, speaking softly, “But I still think it was worth going. I was glad to see you."
The mourning dove outside cooed louder until another joined in, responding gently.
Rudi lowered the ticket from his face.
"I want to go on a date with you," he said.
Kenzo paused. The doves continued to hum.
“Okay," he soon nodded with a grin, "You can decide where we go as you rest up. It's not quite morning yet.”
He sprung up from his futon and closed the gap in the curtains. The room fell black.
“Really? Wow," Rudi sighed with a chuckle, "And I thought you hated me.”
Kenzo froze. The silhouette of his classmate in bed was only vaguely perceptible.
“Nonsense, Rudi!"
He took a step closer, noted that Rudi had turned over to face the wall.
"I don’t ride carousels with people I dislike," he continued slowly, and Rudi grunted. "And did you know that I don’t carve apple slices for people I dislike, either? I don't give smiling rabbits to just anybody."
He forced a laugh.
Rudi was silent.
It was as if Kenzo was having a conversation with the birds outside, who guiltlessly interrupted him as he spoke. As his eyes adapted to the dark, he perceived that Rudi's bedhead had returned.
"I think I know why you think I’d hate you, but it’s not true. I can tell you why, if I must. If I really must."
At Rudi's lack of a response, Kenzo took a deep breath.
"I was also cheating on that exam.”
Silence.
"I feel bad about it, too, but it's not the end of the world, right? We're still good students, right?"
Still, Rudi remained silent.
"Rudi?"
Kenzo extended a hand, felt Rudi's bedhead through his fingers before sighing.
"I guess you've fallen asleep."
***
Rudi wasn’t sure how he got it in his head that he could and should go on a carnival date with Kenzo. Ever since the day he obliged his mother’s gift by going to the carnival, Kenzo’s presence in his mind persisted in an entirely new way: the dread had faded and he sometimes found himself wanting to see Kenzo again.
His classmate had a terrifying amount of leverage over him, with knowledge of his cheating and having helped him in his sickness, but after being walked home the day after he tasted apple rabbits, he more often pondered the thrill that came with seeing Kenzo, that spinning sensation—as if he were still on a carousel—and the taste of sweet, crisp apple slices.
He deserved to be disdained and accepted that it was so, even if Kenzo had not yet acted on it. But whether or not Kenzo reviled Rudi for being a sweaty cheater, Rudi longed to see him again, longed to be seized by that thrill and be awed by his perplexing charm.
He recalled what Kenzo had said when they ran into each other at the darts stall:
"My date was cancelled. I didn't want to waste both my tickets, though."
Did Kenzo have an extra ticket for the carnival, too? Rudi imagined himself and Kenzo riding the carousel once more, this time relishing in a swelling feeling that was only derived from joy, not guilt or fever. The dream was hopeless, though; the man who deserved to disdain Rudi was already in a relationship and had numerous amicable friends that would rank higher than Rudi in ways he had never previously considered. Rudi had never had many friends, and Kenzo was certainly not one of them.
Still, the hopeless dream of a carnival date had already formed by the evening after Kenzo had walked him back to his complex, a silent walk on a sunny afternoon.
The carnival ran for two more days after that, but Rudi never found the will to return to the carnival or to even attempt manifesting the daydream. Indeed, the dream had melded into a daydream, and Rudi had spent considerable time that week simply staring out the window of his office, absentminded and sighing. On three occasions, his supervisor, Dr. Reichwein, had noticed the uncharacteristic behaviour and snapped him from his trance.
“What’s going on, Rudi?” the doctor asked after the third time, “You’ve been acting dazed this week. If you’re feeling overworked, you can always tell me.”
To that, Rudi said nothing. Compared to school, work was a breeze.
The following weekend, he was getting ready to go to Dr. Reichwein’s office for a meeting that he suspected was related to his daydreaming when he heard a knock on the door. After tying his shoes, he flung the front door open. He nearly dropped his briefcase when he found Kenzo at his doorstep.
He was wearing a button-up shirt and trousers, a large knapsack, and a small, twisted smile.
"Hi, Rudi! How're you feeling?"
"Kenzo! Hi! I’m fine,” Rudi stammered in an unconsciously loud voice, “Thank you."
Kenzo nodded slightly and their eyes met. Just his glance was enough to send Rudi back to the day he cheated, the fateful time their eyes met. Despite this recollection, his gaze was also deeply warm and bright.
“I should probably thank you again for taking care of me the other day,” Rudi said, “I really did appreciate it.” He paused before adding:
“You know that I owe you.”
"No, no. Nonsense," Kenzo quickly said, "I have something for you, actually."
Rudi’s brow furrowed.
“Hold on." Kenzo shrugged off his bursting knapsack and rehooked it over his shoulders so it sat on his stomach as he unzipped it. From the bag, he produced a large white rabbit with brown marble eyes—the one from the carnival.
"Huh?” Rudi blinked. “What?"
Kenzo regarded the rabbit as if he were speaking to it, avoiding Rudi’s eyes. "Isn’t this the one you wanted?"
Rudi’s heart jumped. Kenzo had remembered?
Kenzo handed over the rabbit; it heeded him with wide, happy eyes, and Rudi found a curling smile stitched below its nose. Had the rabbit been so cheery and cute all along? He recalled how it seemed to glare at him from above while pinned up at the stall.
Had he imagined that menacing look in his delirium? Probably, he discovered. In his youth, the grand prize had always looked so friendly, so inviting. Why would that ever change?
But what would prompt Kenzo to give this prize to him? To prove that he won a game that Rudi had lost? To put one more weight on Rudi’s shoulders? To have one more favour owed? And when had he won the prize? Had he ended up going to the carnival with his date after all?
"Why not give it to your girlfriend?" Rudi asked.
Kenzo’s brows knit together. "Hm? I don't have a girlfriend."
"Yes, you do. What about your date with her? The one that cancelled?" Rudi asked with narrowed eyes, lightly squishing the rabbit with his fingers. The toy was soft and velvety.
He was certain he hadn’t imagined Kenzo mentioning that he had initially planned to take a date to the carnival. The harsh feeling that had slapped him when the genius had said so was etched into his memory.
Kenzo was fidgeting, playing with his fingers.
"My date was with a school friend, not a girlfriend,” he said, “Did I use the word incorrectly? I didn't know it was used specifically for that kind of thing."
Rudi cleared his throat and tried his best not to grin. He hadn’t expected the spike of adrenaline that jumped up his chest at Kenzo’s response.
“It’s fine. You can use the word either way, really. Either way works."
Kenzo's eyes widened. "I didn't know that."
Running a hand through his hair and reddening, his gaze wandered around Rudi’s door frame until it finally landed on Rudi once more: wide and brown and marbley.
"So, which way would you use the word?" he furtively asked.
Rudi cocked his head to the side. "Like I said: either way is fine."
Kenzo hummed, nodding repeatedly. His complexion had deepened to a flaming red. “Okay, that makes sense."
There was a lull.
"Thank you again for this gift,” Rudi repeated.
He looked down at the smiling rabbit in his hands; being able to hold the grand prize after so many years—though he had forgotten it for much of that time—was relieving.
However, he was unsure how to accept a gift from the classmate who should have disdained him. It could have been one more exhausting weight to rest on his shoulders, but surprisingly, it didn’t register that way. He felt warm all over. Lighter, too.
That Kenzo was smiling so sincerely defied all logic: Rudi must have been misconstruing this somehow. Kenzo had no reason to smile at him, only reasons to scowl. He hadn’t had a reason to insist on caring for Rudi during his fever, either. Oftentimes, he was simply incomprehensible: Rudi was gradually recognizing that this was something he would have to accept.
Still, he was ecstatic just to have the rabbit, even if it was another burden of a favour for him to carry for his disdaining classmate. Any disdain was deserved, but this was a burden he would happily carry. Rudi realized he would be satisfied just to pretend that Kenzo simply wanted him to have it, truly wanted him to be happy. So he pretended.
“When we were at the carnival,” Kenzo started, looking fixedly at the rabbit, “it seemed to me that you liked it.”
Rudi was feeling faint all over again. Was his imagination running rampant like it often did at work? Was this a dream? He opened his briefcase and tremblingly tucked the rabbit inside so that it sat upright, its upper half poking out of the bag.
“I… do like it.” He managed a smile.
Kenzo smiled, too.
Rudi pushed the door shut and locked it. “Unfortunately, I do have to go now, Kenzo. Dr. Reichwein is waiting for me.”
As they walked down the steps in silence, Rudi recognized that Kenzo would probably never speak of any favours that were owed. They would continue to exist, and the guilt would remain, but perhaps one day he would find a way to return the favours, even if Kenzo disdained him for them.
Rudi was beginning to imagine that maybe he didn’t.
He cherished the notion that Kenzo respected him enough to take care of him, to think of him when he saw a fluffy, white rabbit. Rudi was certain that rabbits would continue to remind him of Kenzo, too. The grand prize.
The sky was partly cloudy when the pair stepped outside. With the loss of his fever, the weather had likewise become favourable. They stopped at the sidewalk in front of Rudi's complex.Standing tall in the sunlight with his cheeks flushed red, Kenzo looked like a precious flower.
“Goodbye, Kenzo. I'll see you in the new semester."
"Maybe sooner?"
Rudi stifled a smile. "Maybe."
Maybe they would see each other soon. Maybe it would be a date.