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Shima didn’t know how to describe Mitsumi. He wasn’t aware of half the things he was feeling around her. Maybe she was the sun, warm and radiant. And like the sun she would wax and wane but never stop shining. And like the sun she can feel so incredibly out of reach, almost blinding if he got too close.
Much like now, as he opened his front door and there she stood, glowing an orange hue against the evening sky. Shima rubbed his eyes and blinked a few times. Mitsumi. Outside his apartment. Did he miss something? Fishing his pocket for his phone, he finally noticed it- 27 messages and 3 missed calls. God, he really was awful.
"I-It's fine!" Mitsumi shook her head and Shima cringed, realising he said that last bit out loud.
The fever must be frying his brain. The slight migraine he had in the morning spiralling into this may as well have been karma from all those times he skipped school because he woke up late. Mitsumi had been so worried back then, and he wasn't even sick. He can't imagine how worried she was now.
"I figured you were probably sleeping, I'm just stopping by to pass you the materials for today," she said, opening the door a little wider, "Are you okay?"
Painfully exposed to the sun, the darkness of his tiny apartment became much more obvious. The unwashed dishes in the sink, the unironed clothes in the laundry basket, the palpable emptiness that swallowed each crevice. He lived alone, for the most part. Tsubame West was far, and he didn't want to bother his mother while she took care of Keiri. But she did bring Keiri every now and then for visits. Sometimes she'd help clean up. He had always been lazy with his own chores. The embarrassment reddened his ears.
"Thanks, I'm fine," Shima squinted.
Everything was hot, his skin burned even though he could hear the muffled thud of his blanket falling off his shoulders. Everything was hot, because it’s Mitsumi and her deceivingly strong arm tucked under his, holding him steady before he fell to the ground. Maybe she was the anchor too, somehow strong enough for the both of them. She guided him back to bed despite his protests and put the homework on his desk.
Chris had warned him about this when he was doing that stage play for the school festival. The walls he built up for himself were wearing him down. After trying so hard to appease everyone around him, to maintain his image, his body was at its limit; mentally and physically. The memories he had desperately tried to push away crawled back under his eyelids. And Mitsumi had to be right beside him at his most vulnerable, putting a washcloth over his head.
He remembered the cool hiss of a fever patch hiding under his bangs as he trudged through auditions, the stern scowl on his mother’s face. He didn’t get any of those parts, it was his fault for getting sick and his mother told him as such. He apologised but her frown only deepened. Why wouldn’t she smile?
He remembered crying, the tears almost felt fresh on his cheeks. He’s not sure if that was in the past or present anymore. His head was too heavy to think straight. Mitsumi was saying something but it sounded like white static. Her back was facing him. Was she scowling too? Was it his fault? Suddenly his heart ached terribly. He couldn’t believe he was disappointing Mitsumi.
“I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I won’t do it again,” He mumbled.
If Mitsumi was the sun, maybe he was the moon; he could reflect light, not produce it. That was his role. With no light around him, he was worthless.
As exhausted as he was, as bright as she was, he reached out to grab Mitsumi’s wrist. His lips trembled to admit what he wanted to say.
“Shima-kun! What's wrong?" Mitsumi turned around and knelt by his bed.
"Don't…leave…"
He couldn't shake off the crippling loneliness of the child who begged for some semblance of attention. But he had no right to play the victim here when he caused Mitsumi so much trouble, and especially when Mitsumi did nothing wrong. She should be at home studying to get closer to fulfilling her dream, not wasting her time here with a random classmate. He was dragging her down. His mother's slap tingled on his cheek. Why did I raise such an embarrassing child?
"Ah," he snapped to reality and let go of Mitsumi, "sorry, I mean, you can leave if you want to," He quickly wiped away the rest of his tears and took slow breaths to regain his composure. He hated crying around people. Noone liked someone who wallowed in self-loathing.
Paying no mind to his pitiful state, she got up and walked off, as he expected. That was until she came back with a tray of tissues and water. His jaw hung open.
"Okay!" she set the tray down beside him, "I'll stay as long as you need,"
"...why?"
"What'd ya mean 'why'?" She tilted her head, "noone should be alone when they're sick,"
"What if I get you sick?" He sniffed.
"Hey, I'm stronger than I look!" She flexed her arms, "I used to take care of my siblings when they got sick, you can count on me!"
Of course, Shima could count on her. He was nearly envious. Could he ever be like that for Keiri? A dependable, diligent older step-brother. He was ashamedly too afraid to talk to him most of the time, too afraid to anger his father. Even after all that's happened, the people he'd met, he figured opening up would be easier. But he hadn't changed. He didn't deserve her.
As if on cue, she passed him a tissue, "I don't know what's going on, but you're allowed to cry, y'know?"
He rubbed his eyes, "I'm sorry, I think it's just been a while since…"
Since he'd been sick? Been cared for? No, that wasn't fair to his mother. She wasn't heartless. She paid for this apartment and visited him regularly. With her new family and child, he was greedy to want more.
"There's nothing to apologise for," she said.
Mitsumi ruffled his hair gently, like how she had done when they first met; she was reminded of her dog. It was silly and yet he couldn't help but melt under her touch. He wished everything away for a second, lulled by the soft and supple fingers running down his cheek; thumbing past the stray tears that slipped from his eyes.
Her smile stretched beyond the horizon. It’s contagious because it’s Mitsumi, so he ended up smiling weakly in turn. Maybe this was greedy, maybe this was embarrassing, and it was okay. Maybe she was the sun and he was the moon, but they'd still be together, connected by the vast cerulean skies.