Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

There were many things that stood true about Tsukasa and his troupe.

For one, everyone had their own roles. Tsukasa was silently dubbed as the troupe leader, no one knew exactly why but the role stuck; Rui was known as the director, the one who helps create the plays come to life; Nene was the diva, the singer, if you will; and Emu was the one who consults the Ootori brothers when their help was needed, which made sense since she was their sister.

For two, they’re all important to one another. There is, without a doubt, trust and care that lies within each other’s hearts. No matter how many times Nene and Tsukasa would bicker with one another; no matter how many times Rui would ask Tsukasa to do another stunt that could be dangerous to the star; one thing was certain: they all cared for each other.

When Nene or Tsukasa took it too far with their banters or insults, they’d apologise; and when Rui asks Tsukasa to do a dangerous stunt or test another gadget for a show, he always made sure to be extremely careful with it as much as possible.

For three, their troupe had helped one another. They know this from the way Nene doesn’t falter from being on stage, despite her past experience with it; from the way Rui has no hesitation for bringing his ideas into life, even if he was rejected many times before; from the way Emu makes people smile, yet still has the courage to ask for help when something troubles her deeply—

Although there were many truths about it, there was one truth that the members of the troupe chose to ignore. A truth that they never face, a truth that was never talked about. The one truth about it is that, as much of a blessing it was—

Wonderlands×Showtime was something that was never meant to last.

Nene sighed, eyes latched onto the ground beneath her. “I think…this—” she took a deep breath. “I’m leaving. I’m leaving Wonderlands×Showtime.” The diva squeezed her eyes shut, waiting for the other members’ response.

“Eh!?” Emu exclaimed. “But—Nene, why?” she asked the diva. Brows furrowed with worry and her lips curled downwards. Giving Nene a look of confusion—but never of anger, or disappointment. Emu wasn’t that kind of person.

Nene crossed her arms, fidgeting with the sleeves of her jacket. “It’s…” The diva opened her eyes by an inch, mouth formed into a thin line as her gaze still locked onto the bricks that coated the ground of Wonder Stage.

“A casting director offered me a role for a theatre adaptation of this book and…” Nene tilted her head upwards to meet the eyes of her troupe members. “She told me that she’d give me more opportunities if I joined her. I don’t think—I can’t manage everything at once if I’m still here, in this troupe.”

The atmosphere echoed with silence. Letting the words sink deep into the troupe member’s minds. This was it—this was where everything ends, isn’t it?

Rui gave his childhood friend a soft smile. The edges of it were strained, but the inventor could never be angry or disappointed at the one person he had been closest with since the beginning. “That’s alright, Nene,” he reassured her.” We’re proud of you.”

Emu’s face, which was filled with worry, slowly steeled itself with determination. “Yeah!" she mustered up, voice booming with excitement. The pink-haired girl sprinted to the diva to give her a warm embrace, to which the latter could only yelp in response.

“You did so much to be able to get a role like this! Good job Nene-chan!”

Emu detached herself from the diva, letting her hands rest on her shoulders as she gave her a wide smile. “Don’t worry, Nene-chan! Me, Rui-kun, and Tsukasa-kun will miss you very, very, very, very much!”

Nene giggled, gently pushing off the hands on her shoulders. “Don’t worry, it’s not like I’m leaving you all alone…I just won’t be performing with you all. We can still hang out, and we’ll—we’ll always be friends,” she told them, a subtle smile on her face as she gazed over the people he had come to love.

Tsukasa smiled. Willing his eyes to furrow down to give the diva a look of determination and showing her his joy towards her achievement. “We will,” he agreed with her. “Good luck out there, Nene!”

The diva gave him a nod, the smile on her face never fading away, not even for a single second. “Thanks, Tsukasa.”

A few days later, Nene was no longer a part of Wonderlands×Showtime.

Rui’s eyes darted towards the two before he sighed. “It looks like…my time with you all is over, too,” he gently announced to them.

Tsukasa’s eyes widened by a fraction. Staring at the director wordlessly as Emu let out a soft gasp. It hasn’t been a week since Nene left…and now Rui was leaving as well.

The director took the duo’s silence as a moment to explain. “Asahi-san…he told me he’d offer me a spot as a director in Arkland Theatre once I graduate, and just recently, he had come to me to offer it once again. I…"

The director took a deep breath. “If I wish to become a better director…I think I should accept this.” He gave them a look of determination, yet it wasn’t difficult to see the truth lying underneath it.

(He, just like any of them, never wanted this to end.)

Emu shook her head. “It’s alright, Rui-kun! You’ll—you’ll do great at Arkland Theatre!” she cheered. “You’ll become an even greater director—” she turned to Tsukasa with a proud grin— “don’t you think so too, Tsukasa-kun?”

Tsukasa gave her a grin of his own, giving his best attempt at an encouraging smile. “I think so too. Rui-kun—” he turned his head towards him. “You’ll do great. And don’t worry about us, we’ll be fine!” he flashed him a soft smile.

The other let out a soft chuckle, the sound breathy and gentle against the wind. “Thank you, I wish you two the best of luck.”

A few days later, Rui was no longer a part of Wonderlands×Showtime.

Emu’s lips were curled downwards, eyes brimming with tears as she looked at him with sorrow, a look that never often appeared on her face. “Tsu-Tsukasa-kun…” she mumbled out in-between her tears. She rubbed her eyes, trying to dry it. Barely able to spew out any words to explain what was going on.

Yet, Tsukasa didn’t need any words. He knew what it already was. This was a long time coming—it was something he was waiting for, something he had expected. He didn’t need to know what the other had to say. He already knew.

Yet, even then, a beat of silence passed by. The words he planned to say ever since the moment he realised this would happen were lost on his tongue. Mind drowned in the chaos and bone-chilling realisation of what this troupe, that he loved so dearly, had become. What was he supposed to say again?—No, scratch that, was there even anything worth saying?

Tsukasa didn’t know. He didn’t know a single thing. But…

Tsukasa gave her a soft smile. “It’s alright, Emu,” he reassured. Fighting any feelings that didn’t deserve to be displayed right now, because, right now, Emu didn’t need a sobbing mess.

He slowly opened up his arms, inviting the Emu to an embrace. Hoping that something could be healed by the gesture; that something that he did would sew the pink-haired girl’s broken heart back together.

Emu’s face crumpled, and she sprinted towards him. Tackling him, and almost stumbling over from the sudden force, but at this point, he was used to it. He let the shorter girl cry her tears, let her wail as loud as she could let herself be, knowing the utter despair she must’ve been feeling.

(And in the back of his mind, something crawled on it. Something ugly and rotten scratched on his mind over and over. Making his fingers twitch.

“You’ll never experience this ever again. You’ll never experience the way she tackles you, leaving you stumbling over, the way he grins at you with every new invention he wanted to test out, every banter you have with her is gone.”

He shushed the rotting thing. It’s not something that is worthy of his time.)

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry—” Tsukasa shushed her gently, rubbing her back as his shoulder became damp with tears. The pink-haired girl muttered apologies under her breath as she grasped onto his jacket, gripping onto it as if there was nothing left of her. And in a sense, it was true.

“It’s okay, Emu.” Yet, even with his words, her tears didn’t stop, her pain didn’t cease, and her sadness didn’t ease. She only cried continuously. The words don’t do anything. They won’t do anything.

In the middle of her sobs and hiccups, Emu could only mutter one last thing, “I’m sorry.”

And a few days later, the Wonder Stage was taken down. Tsukasa and Emu are no longer part of Wonderlands×Showtime.

But this was fine.

He wasn’t going to let this trouble him, not at all. This was supposed to happen—this was something that would’ve happened sooner or later. It wasn’t something to linger on. It wasn’t something he should be wasting his time, mulling over whether or not he could’ve done something to make it last.

He’ll find another troupe to work with. That was something he was sure of. He may not be working with the rest of his former troupe, and becoming better may be a challenge especially when he’s not actively acting, as well as the fact he no longer has anyone to point out the mistakes he should improve on—

But he’ll be fine! He asked his mother to enrol him in an acting course for university, and although that would never fix all his problems, it’d help him become better, at the very least.

A ping distracts him from his thoughts. He turned his head towards his phone, lying down on his desk. His empty hand took a hold of it, and he set down the pen he had on his other hand in favour of holding his phone with two.

He quickly inputted his PIN code, the light of his background burned his retinas in the darkness of his room, yet he found himself not caring about it. He swiped down to check his notifications, and his brows rose as he saw a familiar company name, yet they fell down as he saw the contents of the notification.

He tapped on it, wanting to read the entire message—out of courtesy, not of curiosity—and his heart sank at the words he read.

Dear Tenma Tsukasa,

We appreciate your interest in applying at ██████ Theatre as an actor. However, we have ended up choosing another candidate.

Although your skill at the piano and your ability to act were impressive, we have chosen a candidate who has more experience in the acting field.

Best of luck to your job search, as well as your personal and professional endeavours.

Regards, ███ ████.

Tsukasa sighed at the message. “Another rejection…” He frowned, exiting the messages app and setting his phone down on his desk. Picking up the pen he had once set down and focusing on his assignment once again.

This was fine. He could manage.

He scribbled down more incomprehensible English words on his assignment. “I’ll find a job as an actor. I’m sure of it,” he silently encouraged himself.

He was going to become a star, he was sure of it. He’ll find a job to work at, and he’ll be creating plays that make people smile. He will do it. He has to.

He has to. It’s what he’s been working for all this time. It’s what he wanted to do ever since he saw his parents and Saki’s cheerful smiles. It’s why he helped create Wonderlands×Showtime in the first place.

“Come to think of it, when was the last time I talked to Emu and the others?”

The thought made Tsukasa still. Gaze burning onto the homework beneath him. The words on it twisted and looped in ways that were unfamiliar—why was English like this? But, no, that wasn’t important right now.

When did he last talk to them? It had been a month since Rui and Nene left, and a few weeks since Wonder Stage was taken down. But that doesn’t answer his question.

He hasn’t talked to them in…

A month.

A week.

A few days?

When did he last talk to them?

Tsukasa slowly set his pen down, letting it rest on the desk beneath him, illuminated by the light emulated by his lamp. “When did I last…?”

How long has it been since he last talked to them? When did he forget the aching of his heart whenever he saw Nene’s face in the hallways of Kamiyama? When did he forget the loneliness of eating by himself at lunch for the first time in years? When did he forget the unexpectedness of Emu breaking into his school—

Did he just forget them because they weren’t important?

Tsukasa’s breath hitched. “No,” he mumbled to himself. “No, they—” he took a deep breath— “I haven’t been ignoring them, have I?—”

It was a useless question. He was. He knew it before he could even ask it. Little by little, he forgot his troupe—

(But were they “troupe members” anymore? They’re not a part of each other’s troupe anymore.)

“I forgot,” he silently hissed at himself. Trying to destroy the ugly thoughts whirling in his mind. “I forgot them. I—”

He picked up his phone again, hands trembling as he put in his password and checked his messages again, ignoring every application rejection he had gotten and scrolling down to find—

His eyes land onto a familiar group chat. His gaze darted to the right of it to see when the last message was sent, and his eyes widened as the date registered into his head.

It had been a month since he last talked to them.

And the realisation brought a new sense of fear into his heart.

He carefully set his phone down, hands shaking as the sound of him breathing in and out became louder and quicker. The homework he has yet to finish fades into the back of his mind despite it being in front of him.

He should—

(The echo of someone’s laughter rang in his ears. The innocent glee of the sound made his heart ache. Which only brought in untraceable amounts of joy as well as the unbearable weight of pain.)

He had to—

(The memory of a soft melody, sung by somebody he was familiar and unfamiliar with. Their voice at the time carried the stage like the wind. It was gentle, but he only found himself pushed away near the edge of the cliff by its strong breeze.)

He needed to—

(He heard a soft chuckle in his ears. An image of a smile was forefront on his mind. It looked like an animal, but he couldn’t tell what kind it was. He can’t remember—he doesn’t want to remember. The smile brought him some warmth, comfort, and peace just as much as it willingly ruined his mind and broke it sadistically.)

He needed to…

Do what, exactly?

Maybe he needed to do his homework. That was true. It should be done by tomorrow, he wouldn’t rest for a low grade on his report card. He had good grades, a perfect attendance, and no complaints from his professors or teachers in elementary to highschool. That was, until…

He cut himself short. Not willing to continue that particular line of thought.

He had good grades, though his behaviour may not have been…liked by some of his teachers in the past few years, he can still salvage it, probably.

Maybe he needed to check up on Saki. Although she had been feeling better—better than the past few years he had ever seen her be—he can’t help but worry still. Was she still working on a new song? He hoped she wasn’t overworking herself.

Maybe he needed to find another place to work at. Although he supposedly had enough part-time jobs in his life—according to his parents and his sister—he still wanted to perform on stage.

He still had to make people smile. He still needed to—

He snapped out of his thoughts, ears slowly registering the loud cheery music of a place he knew, almost bursting his ear drums. His eyes slowly adjusted from the darkness of his empty room to the burning neon brightness of a familiar theme park, illuminated by street lights and by the moon shining down on him.

“Tsukasa-kun?” He heard a robotic voice behind him. He slowly turned his head around and his orange eyes were met with sparkly blue ones.

He pursed his lips for a moment. “…Huh?” he mumbled out. The vocaloid ran up to him, her steps echoing in his ears despite how loud the park’s music drowned over it.

“Tsukasa-kun, are you okay?” Miku questioned. Her lips curled into a frown. Eyes painted over with worry as he stared into them. Her eyes were bright and lively, despite the potent sadness he could see in them.

He wasn’t sure if he could say the same for himself.

“Sorry, I…” Tsukasa trailed off. Trying to bring some clarity through the fog in his mind. His arms laid limp on his sides. His legs somehow managed to keep himself upright on the ground beneath him. This—this doesn’t feel right. Nothing about him, about Miku, about this SEKAI was right.

Miku stared at him for a few moments before she shook her head vigorously and grabbed onto his arm. “Come on!” She slowly dragged Tsukasa over to another area of his SEKAI. “I want to show you something!”

The star let himself be dragged by the virtual singer. Walking around the SEKAI and seeing the various attractions set inside it, some familiar, some not. Such as the flying train, the ferris wheel—Miku told him all about it. How she and Kaito went up the ferris wheel and saw most of the Wonderland SEKAI. How the plushies wanted to ride the train and see how big the SEKAI truly was.

“…And then, and then, Kaito went—” Miku mimed an explosion— “Whoosh!” The blue-haired vocaloid gave him a cat-like smile—fitting of her costume, he idly noted—as she looked at him with some form of pride in herself.

Tsukasa stared at her for a few moments. He was never great at understanding this…Miku Language, as he liked to call it. After a few minutes, he took a deep breath, and mustered out a mumble. “Kaito…exploded?” he guessed, voice wavering with uncertainty.

Miku shook her head. “No, no, Tsukasa-kun! Kaito flew! He didn’t explode, he flew!” she corrected him, reminiscent of a child making sure an adult got their facts correctly.

(Doesn’t she remind you of someone?)

Tsukasa let out a snort. “Is that—you just gestured an explosion, how was I supposed to figure out Kaito flew and not exploded!?” he exclaimed.

Miku giggled and chose to conveniently ignore his questions. She then continued her story. Telling him what happened on that day. A day filled with chaos and laughter.

Maybe now was the time where she’d say, “I’m glad you’re now smiling, Tsukasa-kun!” And then she’d give him a genuine smile, and look at him with a glee that the blond could only wish he could replicate.

Or, maybe she’d look at him and ask what was wrong. Maybe she’ll ask, “Now, Tsukasa-kun, what’s wrong?” whilst giving him a wide smile and a determined look. Ready to solve the star’s issues.

But right now, that isn’t what he needed. And so, Miku will continue talking.

She’ll talk of the times where Luka would fall asleep mid-play, the times where the Kagamine duo would cause chaos again, the times where Meiko played with the plushies, the times Kaito would help solve disputes within the SEKAI. Because that’s what he needed to hear right now.

(She doesn’t talk of the times the others visited the SEKAI, the times where the Kagamine duo would ask why the other three hadn’t been visiting as much. She doesn’t; and for Tsukasa’s sake, she never will.)

Dear Tenma Tsukasa,

We’re sorry to inform you of this, however…

Tsukasa scowled as he immediately exited the messages app. The words burned themselves into his mind. Hands holding onto the railing of the train with an iron grip as a sour taste burned in his chest.

Another rejection. It wasn’t surprising, once he thought about it. How many times has it been since he was accepted to any troupe or show? How long has it been since he practised on-stage, with other performers like him?

He’d practise his acting as much as he could, his singing as much as he can. He’s even tried studying other people’s acting. He’s tried burning into his mind the way people act on-stage and on-screen; the way they move, the way they speak, the way they interact with one another.

He even tried changing. His acting was lacking? He’d study it and others’ way of acting until it’s better. His own personality is showing even if he’s acting like a different person? He’ll cut his own personality off for the sake of it.

Hasn’t he done everything by now? Or has he still done nothing these past few months?

The train bounced backwards as it stopped. An audio echoing throughout the train, announcing the destination as people began shuffling around, readying themselves to step out of the train and head to their respective destinations.

Tsukasa shoved his phone inside his bag, making sure to close it properly and that nothing inside it would somehow fall.

Slowly, the crowd inside the train began to thin as they exited. He tried to keep up with the pace, not wanting to somehow stumble over or fall down and injure himself—something he has no need to do.

He stepped out of the subway and into the outside world, where the sun was bright and the world was—

A raindrop splattered itself onto his skin. He jerked back, trying to bring himself back to reality as more raindrops fell onto him. And slowly, he realised the sound of rain pouring down on the world around him.

Tsukasa sighed, opening his bag to try and get his umbrella as his mind wandered off, as it had been doing more often than not these past few days. “Just my luck,” he thought bitterly to himself.

He opened the umbrella, watching it unfold above his head, giving a place to shelter himself under as he continued to make his way back home from a part-time job.

“Maybe I should buy Saki something? Or, perhaps I could stop by the embroidery shop nearby,” he silently mused. Slithering his way through a crowd of people.

His eyes widened by a fraction, stopping beside a street, waiting for a particular car to pass by. “Ah, that’s right…”

“Saki would be with the rest of Leo/need tonight. Mother and father are still on that business trip.”

Tsukasa frowned. He looked both ways on the street before crossing it, holding onto his umbrella with a tight grip. There’d be nobody to go back to tonight. No one to wait for, nor anyone to talk to in the house he called a home.

Somehow, the thought paints a bitter pain onto Tsukasa’s heart.

“…I shouldn’t think of those things,” he silently decided, opting to continue his journey back home instead of whatever nonsense his heart or mind could be thinking.

(He quietly files those thoughts into the list of things to avoid thinking about. After all, no one would like to listen to him—much less, listen to thoughts that are unbefitting for someone like him.

As he walked down the streets that led to his home, he pointedly ignores the blur of lavender and greyish-green in the corner of his vision.)

The clock ticked behind him. It was another night of sitting down on his desk, fulfilling assignments from his fundamental classes.

His eyes trailed over the characters printed on the paper. His mind weighed down on him. Instead of the solutions to the questions on the paper, his mind was only filled with the thoughts he tried to avoid.

Tsukasa sighed. “I can’t do anything like this,” he decided. Capping his pen and letting it rest on his desk. He had far too many assignments to pass, yet, surely, he deserved some moment of rest.

The clock continued ticking. Never ending, and never ceasing. It’s the only thing it could do, after all. To continue; if it stopped moving, would time stop as well?

If it stopped moving, for even a few minutes, would it save whatever he had left back then?

Tsukasa glared at the paper beneath him. “No, I shouldn’t…”

Was it possible? To save whatever that was left of Wonderlands×Showtime? If time stopped, would he still be acting with them on-stage? Laughing away and ignoring the inevitable truth that was the troupe’s disbandment?

Or was it just a fruitless effort?

Tsukasa stood up. “…I can’t do this right now.” He shut his desk lamp, and walked towards his bed. Sitting down on it for a moment, then letting himself lay down on the mattress.

He shut his eyes, feeling the pressure he had ignored throughout the entire day resurface. He hoped that maybe if he chose to sleep, he’ll stop thinking about these things and forget about it.

(It’s something he always did.)

He hoped that maybe if he rested for a bit, whatever was bothering him was going to fade away like the wind. That this, too, would pass and would be something he’ll never have to think about ever again.

Maybe, if he closed his eyes and fell asleep, everything would be fine—

But hadn’t he tried this, once? No, twice, thrice—plenty of times back when he was younger?

His eyes shot open at the thought. “What?”

When he thought about it, it was true. The endless nights of him trying to curl himself deeper into a ball. Wishing that someone would knock on his door and bid him good night. Wishing that someone will tuck him in and tell him to have sweet dreams.

Tsukasa furrowed his brows. “No…I—”

And it’s happening all over again, isn’t it?

His breath hitched. “It isn’t,” he denied. Drawing his lips into a thin line as he rolled over to his side, trying to push away the voice from his mind.

It wasn’t. Nothing is repeating. Saki was back home—despite her obvious lack of presence at the moment—and he had friends, didn’t he?

…But he wasn’t an actor anymore.

No matter how many times he tried to convince himself, he was getting nowhere with lying because the moment Wonderlands×Showtime died, was the moment that the thought of him being an actor perished.

The only thing he was convincing was the people around him—and yet, even now, at the deepest of the night, there was no one here to lie to except for himself. But Tsukasa wasn’t a fool. He knew that lying to himself was like trying to put two mismatched jigsaw puzzles together, even if none of the pieces lined up.

It was a useless endeavour.

The silence rang through his ears. Enforcing yet again and again the truth he wanted to deny. Proving to him that in his entire life, there was one thing that would never waver in his life.

“You are alone,” the voice in the back of his mind whispered sweetly. Caressing his aching soul with soft fingers. “And you always will be.”

Tsukasa’s breath stilled. The words stabbed themselves into his heart. Leaving a gaping wound in it as he watched it drip and bleed, infecting every little thing he tried to build in the past few months.

He watched as the bits of confidence he once had stumbled over, crumbling into pieces right in front of him. He watched as the traces of determination he had left carried against the wind, flying further away and away from him.

All because of the simple, yet backstabbing thought, that was being alone.

Tsukasa let out a sniff, his chest constricting as he desperately tried to gasp out for air. His hand instinctively moved up towards the edges of his eyes, and he was proven correct when he felt something wet upon contact.

“Tears,” he numbly thought. When was the last time he cried like this?

His mind greeted him back with the familiar sound of silence. He let out a shaky sigh at the painful reminder of the kind of mind he had.

“That’s right—” he curled in on himself— “I forgot.”

And the words bring another stab onto his gut.

Just how many times had he forgotten this feeling? The feeling of—

Seeing his parents walk away to accompany Saki at the hospital years ago. Watching them walk away to give their love to his younger sister who needed it more, yet never once considered about the pain in his heart every time they left.

Seeing people grow into better versions of themselves. Watching as Touya grew from the household he once came from into the person he was back when he last saw him. Wondering why he wasn’t more like his junior, who has changed so much since the last time he could remember him.

Seeing as all of his friends—his troupe—go on to be better people. More admirable and inspiring people unlike him. Watching as people he knew became someone better, someone greater, someone that isn’t like him.

How many times had he forgotten the feeling of loneliness? How many times had he forgotten the feeling of being left behind?

Tsukasa let out a sob, clutching onto a fistful of his hair as the thoughts continue to surge forth, one after the other without a single moment to breathe in-between them.

“Saki, Touya, Rui, Nene, Emu—” he let out a sharp breath— “they’re all so amazing.”

And he wasn’t, because the paling difference between him and them was that they have changed.

Tsukasa was still the same child who was left all alone, back in his empty home, with no one to talk to and no one to go to.

And something inside the star shatters.

“Is this all it’s going to be?—” he silently asked through his tears— “Being left alone and watching as everyone else moves on to a place they’re more deserving of?”

Tsukasa rubbed his eyes, trying to wipe away the never-ending tears that flowed through them. His heart squeezed within his chest, cracking and breaking every wall he had created the moment he saw that star when he was younger.

That star. The one person he thought he could be close to reaching. The person he thought of whose radiance he could emulate. The person he thought he could become, but no—

He was nowhere near reaching him. Nowhere near to becoming that person he admired.

Because a star, for as much as it glow brightly, is so, painfully, far away.

He was a child, of course he’d never realise that. Stars are millions of light years away, and so it only made sense that a dream such as making people smile like how the person he looked up to so much—

Was a useless and unreachable thing to wish for.

Tsukasa slapped a hand over his mouth. Tears dripped down his cheeks as he let out a choked wail. The realisation carved away at the edges of his dreams, and he could only stand there, watching as it chipped away at the edges, being held together only by what’s left of his determination.

It’s no use, working for something you’ll never reach.

Tsukasa shook his head, wishing that the voice would fade away. “No, that’s…” He gulped. “I can still work for it, I can still reach for it—”

“But what about the rejection messages?” Tsukasa stilled at the thought. His mind slowly drifted back to the countless messages telling him he was rejected. He failed. He didn’t pass. He wasn’t good enough.

He squeezed his eyes shut, shaking his head in a desperate attempt to deny it. “No, there has to be—” he hiccuped.

He furrowed his brows. “There has to be—”

“You’ll never become a star.”

And silence rings in the room, filling it up like a balloon that would soon explode. Those words—they weren’t true. Rui said so. He changed his mind, didn’t he?

Yet, even if the words sting; even if those words beat him back to the dust, stab him again and again until his own masochism had been satisfied; even if Rui himself said he was wrong, he can’t shake off the feeling, can’t help but feel that—

They were true.

Tsukasa would never become a star.

(“…Then, isn’t it fine now?” A voice in the back of his mind asked. Easing his heart to a calm standstill as it caresses his panicked mind. “Haven’t you done enough?”

It doesn’t speak for a moment, but once it did, it whispered back in a sweet voice, “You’re never becoming a star, isn’t it okay to stop now?”)

Tsukasa took a deep breath. The hand grabbing onto his hair had loosen its grip. His heart drummed inside his ribs, filling his ears like a steady rhythm.

There was something about those words that tilted him the wrong way. Giving up? That isn’t—and never was—an option in the first place. He still had to make people smile. He still had to give people some sort of happiness, no matter what, it’s what he wanted to do ever since he was a child—

Yet, you’ll never reach it. What use is a dream that is too high up in the clouds?

Tsukasa let out a soft sigh. His tears have dried. They no longer sting his eyes. His heart stopped aching, leaving only a dull pressure against his chest.

He shouldn’t give up. He can’t. He’s done everything to achieve his dream as a star—everything he’d done up to now was to reach a future where he is on a stage, bringing smiles to the audience and, perhaps, his own family too.

(“But there’s no use,” the voice reminded him. Each word was coated with honey. Even if the words were harsh and brutal. The way it whispered back to him was far too gentle, almost as if it was cradling a crying child.)

But everytime he thought about that dream of becoming a star—that voice in the back of his head only uttered the painful truth.

He wasn’t good enough for anyone. Never good enough for someone to say it, never exactly good enough for someone to stay with him.

And he’ll never have to feel any of that ever again if he chose to give up.

He’ll never have to see another message telling him he wasn’t good enough.

He’ll never have to be connected to people and watch as they leave him. Leave him all alone to bear the pain and the loss of their presence as they become even greater people.

If he chose to give up that dream—that weak dream he clung onto because it was the only tangible thing he could work for as a little kid—then he’ll never feel any of the pain and suffering ever again.

Tsukasa’s eyes slipped shut. Pillow damp with tears as his breaths evened out. Heart no longer bursting with pain and sadness.

“I’ll never have to feel it ever again.”

Chapter Text

In another world, where logic doesn’t exist, and is a land of fun and chaos, magic and wonder, the theme park’s music suddenly falters—but only for a second. Never less, never more than that.

The music faltered—pitch dropping down to the ground, letting out a mangled cry of unease. Filling every bone of every living thing in the SEKAI with a sense of wrongness that they’ve never felt.

Yet, as soon as they all felt it, the sound disappeared. Leaving all the vocaloids in a state of missingness. Leaving them to question, “What just happened?”

Meiko was walking around, searching for a plushie that had presumably gotten lost when the music glitched. She flinched. “Oh?” she hummed out. It was only for a second, yet the feeling of it remained in her heart. “…What could that be?”

Rin and Len stilled when they felt the music drop before it immediately picked back up. The plushies didn’t seem to notice it, living their merry lives and playing hide-and-seek. The duo glanced at one another. A silent agreement between the two of them. “Something is really wrong.”

Miku and Kaito—though not at the same place—had frowned. Staring up into the sky with its fluffy clouds and northern lights.

Kaito was inside the tent, preparing for the next show when the wave of wrongness and unease washed over him, gripping onto his shoulders with its claws digging into his skin. He frowned. A vague idea of what could’ve happened formed at the tip of his tongue, yet uncertainty riddled his mind. “…That’s not what happened, is it?”

Miku was outside, skipping her way to find something to do—maybe listening in to what the flowers were singing—when she found herself stopping in her steps. The music went wacky, it wobbled and died, but only for a few seconds. And a new feeling bloomed inside her chest, but it wasn’t pretty. It wasn’t anything that she felt before. She frowned. “…Tsukasa-kun?”

Luka was lying down against the seats in front of a stage. Hugging a sheep plushie who was sleeping with her as she took a lovely nap. Her eyes fluttered open, and she slowly sat up with the support of her arm. She rubbed her eyes with one hand. “…Oh?” she quietly hummed out. “I wonder what’s going on…”

(“Come to think of it, didn’t MEIKO said that Luka only is awake when something was bothering someone?”)

Tsukasa sighed, walking down the halls of his university as students rushed to their respective classes. He had just finished another class, and his body was drained from the lesson the professor had given to them.

“…Why am I even still here?” he wondered, eyes staring down into the linoleum floors of the hallways. “It’s not like I’ll be of any use here.”

A tap on his shoulder broke him out of his thoughts. He jerked and twisted his head around, checking to see who decided to talk to him.

“Tenma-kun!” one of his classmates greeted, the name scrubbed away and lost from his mind. “You did great in today’s class, the teacher was really happy with what you did.”

Tsukasa chuckled. “Did I?” he asked back, giving the other a sheepish expression. He truly doubted that the teacher meant his compliments and praises. He wasn’t deserving of them in the first place—but if that’s what he said, perhaps it was true.

His classmate nodded. “You did!” he affirmed. Then, his head tilted to the side. “But, are you alright?” he asked him, glancing at the blond with worry imminent on his face. “You’ve been looking quite down these past few days.”

Tsukasa’s brows rose before he shook his head. “No, I’m fine,” he responded back, the lies falling off his tongue with ease. “It’s just…the assignments, they’re kind of catching up on me, you know?” the blond laughed off, hoping the other would be convinced.

His classmate giggled. “Yeah, I do, plus—” he pointed to Tsukasa— “don’t you have like, five part-time jobs or something?” he inquired. “And to think you can even manage the university workload too, Tenma, you’re insane.”

Tsukasa chuckled, a more genuine sound compared to the last one. “Am I?” he mused.

“Of course you are! I’m already suffering from the homework given, and to think you have—not one, but multiple jobs! You really are…”

Tsukasa listened carefully to the other’s ramblings and praises. The words phased right through him, not particularly feeling anything towards it. The words were meaningless to him, if not now, then in the future, they would be.

This conversation holds nothing over Tsukasa. Maybe they would’ve back then, when he was still driven with determination. But he wasn’t anymore. The fire had died within him, and so this conversation doesn’t mean anything to him.

Because after all, Tsukasa wouldn’t be here much longer.

Tsukasa was, yet again, doing another assignment on his desk in the middle of the night.

He had been stuck on how to answer this question, yet for the past hour not a single answer came to his mind. Every moment he blinked, the words became more incomprehensible. Merging with the whites of the paper, mixing like soup and leaving it unrecognisable and beyond repair.

He sighed, setting the pen down on his desk. “I can’t do anything like this,” he eventually decided.

Tsukasa leaned back on his chair, stretching his arms and letting out a satisfied groan. Once he was finished, he frowned. “I wonder why I feel so tired lately…”

It wasn’t because of school work, no, he was doing fine—at least, he hoped so—and he was doing well enough with his part-time jobs.

(He was still getting rejection messages from places he once tried to audition in. He pushed the thought to the back of his mind.

It’s not like he’s planning to audition for another show, after all.)

Tsukasa hummed. Suddenly, his phone lit up, in a blue that contrasted the orange hues of his lamp. He snapped his head towards it, and—

“Tsukasa-kun!” Miku greeted him. Appearing as a hologram through his phone. She had a worried look on her face—which was eerily unusual to look at for the normally gleeful vocaloid.

“Miku?” he quietly whispered, not wanting to disturb his sister, who was hopefully sleeping peacefully in her room. “What’s wrong? Did something happen in the SEKAI?

Miku shook her head, before stopping mid-action. “No!—I mean…” the vocaloid trailed off, a frown forming on her face as she thought her words.

“Something is wrong with SEKAI, but…”

Tsukasa immediately cut her off. “What happened? Did Luka get lost again? Did the plushies do something again?” he rapidly asked. “Is there anything I can—?”

“Tsukasa-kun!” Miku whisper-yelled, halting the blond’s ramble for a good moment. He twitched, eyes a little wide at the other’s sudden yell.

A beat passed, leaving the blond and the virtual singer to stare at one another. “…Tsukasa-kun, is something wrong?” The vocaloid asked him. The words he previously directed at her were now turned against him.

Before Tsukasa could reply, Miku interrupted him. “Yesterday, the SEKAI went…weird,” she explained with a sorrowful tone, Tsukasa silently noted the lack of onomatopoeia in her words. “It stopped, and then it went back to normal, but…”

Miku’s frown deepened. “The vocaloids felt—they can still feel it,” she told him, “and it’s a very empty feeling.”

“Meiko is lost on what to do; Rin and Len don’t know what’s going on, yet they know something is wrong; Kaito cancelled the show we had planned, and he doesn’t know what to do either; and, Tsukasa-kun, Luka is awake—” the blond’s eyes widened at the information.

“Luka is awake…?” he whispered, disbelief lacing his words.

Miku nodded vigorously, mouth still etched into a small frown. “And she’s only awake when somebody is upset, and Tsukasa-kun—”

“You’re…you’re giving up, aren’t you?”

Tsukasa’s eyes widened further at the other’s response. He chuckled nervously. “…What do you—what do you mean, Miku?”

“You’re—you’re giving up on making shows…aren’t you?” she asked again, frown deepening as determination filled her bones. “You’re giving up on making people smile, aren’t you?”

“What makes you say that, Miku? I’m not—”

“You can’t lie to me, Tsukasa-kun!” the vocaloid yelled out. “The SEKAI is made out of your true feelings! And I—” Miku gritted her teeth— “I know you plan on giving up on becoming a star.”

Tsukasa furrowed his brows. A sour sting stabbed through his heart at the word ‘star’ . “Why does it matter?” he asked her, a frown of his own forming on his face.

Miku furrowed her brows, feeling tears burn at the edges of her eyes. “Because you can’t, Tsukasa-kun! You—isn’t this what you wanted to do this whole time?” she hissed out.

“You wanted to make Saki happy! You said you wanted to make the world happy, that you wanted to make people smile! You can’t just—” Miku took a deep breath— “You can’t just throw that all away!”

“But I can ,” Tsukasa spat back, feeling bitterness coursing through his veins at every reminder that the other gave. “Nothing’s working out, I keep on getting rejection after rejection. Miku, I was an idiot to think I could become a star—”

“But you can still become one!” she argued back, voice raising by a bar as she desperately tried to convince the blond. “You can still make people smile, and you can still make Saki smile! Tsukasa-kun, isn’t that your true—”

“What even is the point of it!?” Tsukasa hissed, trying to silence his voice as he reminded himself of Saki and his parents, who could probably hear him through the walls. “You’ve always been talking about ‘true feelings this’, and ‘true feelings that’, you—”

“You aren’t even real !”

Miku recoiled at the other’s words. A moment of silence passed through them. “…E-even so, I—”

Tsukasa placed a hand on his desk, wishing he could slam it as loud as he could, but he would rather die than disturb anyone’s slumber over this. “What could you possibly even do? You’re just—just pixels on a screen! Even if ‘making shows’ were my so-called ‘true feelings’—”

“Why should I believe you , when you’re not even real? ”

Miku let out a soundless gasp at Tsukasa’s words. The frown on her face disappeared—only replaced with a thin line. She stared at Tsukasa for a few seconds before her gaze shifted back to the ground.

“…Okay,” she muttered. The words were barely audible to Tsukasa’s ears.

And right after, Miku disappeared from his screen. The hologram left a burn into his retinas.

Tsukasa stared at his phone for a few minutes before burying his head in his hands. Heart beating loudly and his hands shaking from the words that left his mouth

“…Fuck,” he mumbled quietly. Feeling despair grab onto every limb of his body as he realised what he had just done. “What did I just say?”

He let in a sharp inhale—feeling his chest heave up and down as the words he said burn itself into his mind. Not giving an ounce of mercy as it stabbed his own mind again and again, making sure that the words reach the core of his mind, and in turn, his heart.

What did he just say to her? No, how could he say that?

His eyes welled up with tears. The words sank deeply into the core of his body, watching as he realised how deep each and every word he spewed out was. Realising how sharp and cruel the words that he let out of his own mouth. He let out a shaky sigh. “No, I—”

I’m sorry.

I was wrong.

I didn’t mean that.

Please forgive me.

Please come back.

Please don’t go.

The words he didn’t say, and the words he did. Tsukasa was never good at saying the greatest things for someone.

Why did he say that? Miku didn’t deserve that, she didn’t deserve—

Tsukasa shakily reached out for his phone, distantly, he could see his tears drip onto his homework beneath him, dampening the paper and ruining it.

“I have to—” he hiccuped— “apologise. I have to—”

This is why you aren’t a star.

He sobbed, letting his tears fall down and drip from his eyes. Breaths heaving in and out as his heart shattered into pieces, disbelief echoing in his mind as the words replayed over and over in his head—

What did he do—what had he done ?

Why was he like this?

He slapped a hand across his mouth, muffling the quiet scream he let out and feeling his heart stretch thin as every word that rang in his mind only spat poison that burned through his skin.

“You aren’t a star,” the voice in the back of his mind caressed. Taking his heart and stabbing it with the plenty of knives littered across his brain. “You’re a black hole—”

“And you eat up every single person within your vicinity. ”

He pushed his chair back. A loud screech pierced through his ears as he stumbled his way to his bed. Tears dripping onto the floor below and reminding him of the sins he had caused.

He immediately dropped onto his bed. Mind hazy and cluttered from all the guilt and anguish he had over what just happened.

Tsukasa took a sharp breath, letting air flow through his mouth. Breaths never ending their quick heaving as he desperately tried to scratch away the incoming waves of pain in his heart.

He wished he could apologise. He wished that he could tell Miku that he would try again, and have some bit of hope even if it was for her. He wished that he could tell Miku that he’ll do his best to get a spot in a play even if he has no hope for it.

But—

“There’s no going back,” the voice reminded him, poking his heart repeatedly before gently brushing it with its hands. Almost as if it were a mother, caressing a child that was in agonising pain.

Tsukasa squeezed his eyes shut, feeling bile rise up to his throat. The food he had eaten that day was prickling at the back of his mouth, yet he willed to swallow it down, not wishing to be ungrateful for the food his mother had generously cooked for him by throwing it up. A single thought rang throughout his head—

There was no going back.

The following day arrived. Tsukasa barely got a wink of sleep without his own words everytime he was close to passing out.

He stepped down the flight of stairs, making his way to the kitchen of the house, hearing the sizzling of butter. He looked up and saw his mother happily cooking breakfast for the rest of the family.

“Good morning, Tsukasa.” She gave him a warm smile, taking her attention off of the pancakes she was cooking before immediately returning to it.

Tsukasa attempted to give her one of his own. “Good morning, mom,” he quietly greeted her. When his mother glanced back, he earned a look of surprise from her.

She raised a brow. “Tsukasa, what’s wrong?” she questioned him. She turned off the stove and put the pancakes she had prepared onto a plate. “You look awfully gloomy today,” she commented.

Tsukasa opened his mouth to say something, but he sewed it shut. “…It’s nothing,” he told her. Making his way to his usual seat at the dining table and sitting down on it.

His mother sighed, walking to the dining table and setting the plate of pancakes down in front of him. “You’re not really a good liar, my dear,” she told him, before taking a seat at one end of the table. “Now, will you tell me what’s wrong?”

Tsukasa let out a sigh, quietly picking up the fork his mother had set out and cutting through the pancake in front of him. He took a small bite. It was really fluffy, just like a cloud.

Tsukasa’s mother giggled. “Is it now?” she asked back. He must’ve said it aloud, then. “Ah, but you shouldn’t dodge the question,” she lightly scolded him.

Tsukasa glanced at his mother for a second. Seeing the way she smiled at him with the warmness that he rarely felt directed to him as a child. Seeing how she was not here, back then, but was here now.

(“There is no going back.” The words echo in his mind.)

Tsukasa took a deep breath. “Mom…”

“I… I think I’m going to quit acting.”

The mood dropped significantly the moment those words were uttered. His mother gazed at him with wide eyes, lips slightly parted as she stared at him in disbelief.

“…But isn’t this something you’ve been meaning to do for a while now?” she asked, tilting her head whilst shooting him a look of concern. “Are you really sure you want to quit?”

Tsukasa’s grip on his fork tightened. “I…” He pursued his lips. “…The assignments and the activities…they’ve been stressing me out a little while, especially with the part-time jobs I have—”

“But you can quit your jobs, can you not?” His mother frowned, and something inside him breaks at the expression she’s making. “I thought you loved theatre, Tsukasa. I’m okay with you pursuing acting, so really, if you want to continue I wouldn’t be—”

“It—it isn’t, about that.” He awkwardly chuckled. “I just—” he cut himself off, trying to gather his words and explain his feelings. “I don’t…think I can finish this course at all.”

“I understand, Tsukasa, but why?” she reiterated. “Ever since you were little, you loved making shows for Saki. It was the one thing you were clearly passionate about. You’ve done many things to become a ‘world future star’, like you always talked about,” she explained. “That’s why, I want to know exactly why you’re quitting.”

Tsukasa bit the inside of his cheek. Every single word she said was true, and every word she said added another knife to stab through his heart.

Yet, the one thing he wished he could never see ever again, was the utter look of sorrow on her face.

The way her lips curled downwards, and the way her eyes stared at him with confusion as well as a mix of disbelief. The way her eyes creased and the way her gaze asked him one question that everyone would’ve asked him if they heard what he just said.

The way she doubted his words made him want to go back and fix everything he had done. Pretend none of this had ever happened and forget like he always did—

A drop of tear fell onto the ground beneath him. His eyes widened. Tsukasa gently set down the fork in his hand and he rubbed his eyes, wishing that the tears just stopped and never leaked from his eyes again.

A screech sounded out to his left, yet he paid no mind to it. He felt arms wrap around him, with one hand on his shoulders as the other found its place gently brushing through his hair.

Silence rang through the air, save for Tsukasa’s sniffles and the quiet hushing of his mother’s voice. “…Is this what you really want?” she asked him, words as soft and quiet as the wind.

Tsukasa pursed his lips. He nodded, not willing himself to speak lest he wished to make a fool of himself more than he already had, instead opting to bury his head deeper into the embrace.

A sigh sounded out above him. “…Alright then,” his mother decided, “you’ll be out of the course in a few days.”

The words shattered his heart more than it already was, yet he said no other words as he let the silence speak of his willingness of the situation.

(“There’s no going back.”)

Tsukasa sat on his bed. Staring blankly at the ground as his heart crumbled into pieces.

He couldn’t get the image of his mother’s face out of his head. It had burned itself into his mind, and everytime he shut his eyes, he saw the sadness that painted every corner of it. Yet no matter how many times he tried, he couldn’t erase it from his memory. Not a single thing could escape him from it.

A loud bang pierced him from his thoughts. He snapped his head, immediately standing up to see who it was but before he could even respond, a force rammed into him and—

“Onii-chan! What are you thinking!?” Saki yelled out, trapping Tsukasa into a death-gripping hug, fingers digging into his back.

“Wh…Saki?—”

“You—you’re giving up? Just like that?” she looked up at him, and Tsukasa could see the tears glimmering from her eyes. Staring at him with a hint of desperation that he rarely saw within her.

“I…” Tsukasa clamped his mouth shut.

Saki gritted her teeth. “You—Onii-chan, you would never!—” she shook him, wishing he’d snap out of whatever joke he was playing at right now. Yet Tsukasa could only do nothing other than let himself be a punching bag for her emotions. “Why are you—why are you giving up? You can’t just—you can’t!”

Eventually, Saki stopped shaking him. Gaze dropped onto the ground with her heavy breaths ringing loudly inside the room as she held onto his arms, waiting for him to say something. That it was a joke, an act, a lie, something meant to fool her, and yet —

Tsukasa said nothing. His hands hovered over his sister, mouth opening and closing as he thought of the words he could say to comfort her, yet nothing came out.

Saki took a deep breath through gritted teeth. Hands shaking as she heard the other’s response, or rather, the lack thereof. She slowly let go of Tsukasa’s arms. Head still tilted to the ground as she let out a huff of disapproval. “…I’m going to Ichika’s,” she eventually muttered out.

Saki turned her heel and began walking away from Tsukasa. With her back towards him, he couldn’t see her face. Maybe it was for the better. He doesn’t want to know what kind of look she had on her face.

But before Saki could fully leave, she gave Tsukasa one last glance and—

Within her pink bubbly eyes were the heart-breaking presence of tears. Dripping down her cheeks as she glared at him with all the anger and frustration boiling on the surface of her skin.

Tsukasa’s eyes widened with concern, but before he could say anything, Saki slammed the door shut. The sound ringing in his ears, but he couldn’t think of anything else other than one thing—

“I made her cry,” he numbly thought. Feeling his hands twitch at his sides as the words spin around his mind like a halo. Taunting him and pestering him like a fly.

I made her cry.

And this time, Tsukasa wasn’t sure if his shattered heart could be sewn back together again.

(“…Was there no going back?”)

The vocaloids looked around the SEKAI. Yet, no matter where they searched, they couldn’t find her.

Kaito frowned. “Miku?” he called out, hoping that she would eventually come out of her hiding place. “Where are you?”

Rin popped out from one of the tents. “She’s not here!” he told Kaito as she brushed off the (non-existent) dust on her skirt.

Len came out from one of the pathways, a few plushies trailing after him. “Not here either,” he informed them. “Where could she be?…” he quietly mused.

Meiko sighed, turning to the blue-haired vocaloid next to her. “Do you think we should just start without her?” she asked him.

Kaito shook his head. “No, Miku knows more about the SEKAI, and Tsukasa, than I do. She should be here when we talk about it.”

Meiko frowned. “I guess so, but…”

Before the brunette could finish her words, footsteps sounded out behind them. Kaito turned his head around and felt himself almost stumble over from the impact.

“Mi-Miku?” His eyes widened at the vocaloid who just tackled him into a hug, yet what was more concerning was the tears running down her cheeks. “H-hey, Miku, what’s wrong?”

Miku wiped her tears, as she let the tears flow, almost reminiscent of a child who was lost at the park. “I-it’s…” she hiccuped, unable to properly say the words that were on the tip of her tongue.

Kaito hushed her. “Now, calm down for a moment, Miku.” He rubbed circles onto the other’s back, waiting for her to fully calm down.

“I-it’s—Tsukasa-kun, he—!” the virtual singer mustered out in-between sobs. Yet, she had no need to explain further. Every one of the vocaloids knew exactly what she wanted to convey.

Kaito’s eyes widened, his body stilled at the words that Miku had implied. ”…This is bad…” he mumbled, arms still wrapped around the other vocaloid.

(“…There really is no going back now.”)

Chapter Text

The two siblings don’t talk for a long while.

Which, as much as the thought pained him—ripped his skin apart with gentle precision and dissected his heart out with slow movements—he doesn’t do anything about it.

Clearly, Saki wasn’t happy with him, and Tsukasa had no need to cause more fire to the burning wagon, it’s already burnt enough as it is—just like how there was no need to add salt to a wound. Tsukasa didn’t need to make things worse by reminding her of every mistake he had made.

Does the guilt eat him alive, every night he sleeps with a comfy pillow and soft mattress, and every breath he dared to take? It does. It stuck to him and fed off of his pain every moment it could.

Every waking moment he found himself worrying to death—about Saki, more than anything—but also found himself swallowing spit mixed with disgust and anger in his throat. He found himself unable to stand against a mirror and see himself eye-to-eye, not with all the things he had done.

But, even if he wanted to fix what he had done, there was no remedy to this situation. It’s already been carved into the stones, and burned against the skin of every human being that knows him.

Tsukasa was no longer a star. He has no more right to be.

“Tenma-san!” One of the kids pulled at his sweater. The blond turned his head around to stare at the small kid staring up at him with innocent eyes. Glee coating every crease underneath it.

If he remembered correctly, this was Milo. A young child who came from America alongside his family—a mother and father, and an older brother. They recently moved to Japan because his older brother was transferred to a prestigious school,  if he recalled correctly.

Tsukasa shook his head before tilting it. “What is it?” he asked back. Putting in a lilt of curiosity in his voice despite being unable to feel his own heart beat with something similar to joy.

Milo giggled before dragging Tsukasa to some other part of the daycare. It was barely a force to be reckoned with—seeing as the battle was a four to six year-old child against a nineteen year-old adult—but it still elicited a yelp out of him.

“Wh-what did you need, Milo?” he asked him, only to be met with a thoughtless giggle from the younger, not responding back with words. He let out a soft sigh, relenting to whatever the kid had in mind.

It didn’t take long for them to reach their destination—seeing as the daycare wasn’t quite a big area. Once Tsukasa came back to reality, he was met with Milo sitting in front of a toy piano.

Tsukasa tilted his head, wondering what the other planned to do. He watched the boy in anticipation, eyes fixated on the boy’s beige fingers hovering over the plastic keys. He knew he would show something to him, it’s what most kids do after all, but he doesn’t know what.

A moment of silence passed. Tsukasa opened his mouth to ask something but was promptly cut off by a single note playing, then another. And slowly, a familiar tune echoed within his ears—

“Twinkle, Twinkle, Little Star.” Tsukasa hummed, watching Milo’s gleeful attitude as he pressed onto the toy piano’s keys. “…How sweet.”

The tune wasn’t perfect. It had parts it could be improved on. Parts that, if the boy tried to work on them, it could sound better, even if it was on this toy replica of the instrument that barely has the wide range that most pianos have.

Yet, he doesn’t say those words.

Everytime he thought of them—on how to make this tune better, on how to make it sound more lovely to their ears—his eyes were naturally drawn into the pure joy in the kid’s eyes.

His eyes latched onto the way his smile stretched from ear-to-ear, the way his eyes focused on the piano in front of him. The way his fingers twitch every time he presses a note. And the way his face doesn’t falter even if he pressed the wrong key, even if his fingers accidentally hit another key.

(It reminds him of the days waiting for someone in the place he calls his home. Waiting every day as the same tune scratches itself onto his ear drums.

“Saki will get better,” he mumbled to himself, once, “she has to.”)

The performance ends, and silence is all that plays in his ears. Milo turned to Tsukasa with a—somehow—even wider smile on the boy’s face. “Was it good?” he asked the blond. “Tenma-san, was my piano playing skills really good!?” Milo’s eyes stared back at him, sparkling with something akin to pride as he anticipated the elder’s answer.

You’ve played more than what I could have.

You’ve done better than I could ever do.

You smile while you play the piano—

Tsukasa gave the boy a soft smile, eyes softening as his hand reached out to ruffle the boy’s black silky hair. Milo let out a giggle, trying to swat away the blond’s hand despite how much fun he was having.

“It was,” Tsukasa told him.

—I can’t remember the last time I did.

Tsukasa sighed, resting his head against his desk and trying to wash away the pain throbbing in it.

He doesn’t know what to do now. He had never thought of a future where he was not an actor on stage, or a star making people smile. He got far too used to the sweet taste of chasing such a colourful dream that he never thought of what he would do when he inevitably failed it.

He rubbed the back of his neck. Wallowing in the thoughts that ate his soul in every second of his life.

“I’m such a wreck…” he uttered silently. “I can’t keep living like this forever. I have to…” He pursed his lips. “I have to do something—”

Useful.

Something worthwhile.

Something bearing fruit.

He can’t just waste his life away, sitting in his room and doing nothing of all things—

His thoughts were cut off by the creak of his door and the sound of it shutting. He peeked his head through his arms. Wondering who it could be.

“Mom and dad aren’t home, meaning the only person it could be was—”

And slowly, just as he expected, Saki came into his view. Gaze directed at the ground as she held something behind her. She glanced up at Tsukasa before immediately dropping it again.

Tsukasa straightened his posture, untangling his head from his hands. He stared at his sister, wondering what the other needed from him. This was the first time that one of them went face-to-face with the other these past few weeks.

“…Onii-chan,” Saki quietly called out. “C-can you help me with something?” she muttered meekly. Swaying left to right with a sheepish expression on her face. Gaze still directed at the ground beneath her.

Tsukasa tilted his head. “What is it?” he asked her, standing up and leaving his desk, opting to carefully walk towards his younger sister, not wanting to set her off in any way like the weeks before.

Saki pursed her lips before bringing out what she was hiding behind her—

“A dress?” Tsukasa silently questioned. Tilting his head to give the item a confused stare, scanning over it. “What could she…” His thoughts stopped as soon as he saw the tear on a part of the dress.

Saki let out a small groan before rapidly explaining. “I was preparing for a date I have with Ichika and the rest, and I had planned to wear this dress but I didn’t realise that it had a tear in it and now I’m completely lost—” She took a deep breath.

“C-could you fix it?” she mumbled out, handing the dress towards Tsukasa. He stared at her for a moment before carefully taking it into his hands, treating the fabric like glass.

He eyed over the dress, brushing over the tear on it. “It isn’t too big, it only needs a few stitches…” He absentmindedly walked back to his desk and opened the drawer where he kept his sewing supplies. His gaze only changed focus the moment he began searching for the pins and needles, not wishing to poke himself with them.

Tsukasa searched for the tools he needed—a thread similar to the dress’ colour, a needle, and a few pins to keep the dress in place. He hummed, turning his gaze back to the dress at hand. “I don’t think just a simple stitch would suffice for this one…”

He eyed the floral pattern on the dress, staring at it for a few moments before he grabbed different coloured spools of yarn and thread from his drawer. Distantly, he could hear Saki let out a noise of confusion, but he paid no mind to it. “Give me a few minutes,” he mumbled back to her, mind already trained on fixing the tear on the dress in his hands.

He threaded the needle, and tied a knot at the end of it. Then, he turned the dress inside out, finding where the tear was once again before poking the needle at one end of it, making sure to be careful of its position so that it wouldn’t be seen on the outside. Then, he began the repetitive motions of stitching up the dress.

He doesn’t know when exactly, but he found himself getting lost in his own work. The back-and-forth motion bringing a sense of peace in his mind as he watched the tear close up.

He tied a knot and cut off the excess thread, immediately pulling it out and throwing it in the trash. He put back the sewing needle and replaced it with an embroidery needle, and, alongside it, a piece of green yarn that he had taken out earlier.

After successfully poking the yarn through the hole, Tsukasa stabbed the needle onto a pin cushion before setting the dress on his lap and taking out two things—an embroidery hoop and a stabiliser.

Tsukasa took the embroidery hoop and set it down onto his desk in front of him, he laid the dress over the hoop, making sure that the area of where the tear was is dead-centre. He then took the stabiliser, cutting a few inches of it and laying it across the smaller embroidery hoop. He made sure to secure it in place before putting the bigger hoop on top of it and screwing the two pieces together.

He took a deep breath, and once again, he continued the process of stitching in details of yarn and thread into something beautiful.

Every stitch he made brought a sense of calmness into his mind. Letting himself relax and act on every movement smoothly without any form of hesitance. Pushing the needle in and out of the fabric of the dress as the vision in his mind slowly came to life.

It was nice—to have this sense of calmness for the first time in a while. To have the moment of tranquillity gently trickling his bones after weeks of worrying and stressing over things. It’s almost as if something clicked, and all he had now was the dress on one hand and the needle in the other.

Tsukasa clipped the remaining yarn before poking the needle onto a pin cushion once more. He looked back onto the dress, and—

He doesn’t quite believe what he just made.

Earlier—back when some form of coherence was in the forefront of his mind—all that there had been on this dress was the lime green colour of the dress, with the quiet presence of daisies printed onto the fabric, but now…

Tiny pieces of flowers bloomed onto the dress’ fabric. Stems crawled against the corner of the dress and gave way to the multiple petals that littered across it, giving the dress a more potent dose of the floral pattern it originally had.

Saki gasped behind him. Tsukasa flinched, eyes widening. “When did she get here?” he silently asked himself. He quickly shook his head before giving the younger blonde her dress and watching as she took it in her hands, delicately holding onto it and making sure it didn’t get wrinkled.

“Onii-chan…this is amazing!” Saki breathed out, holding onto the dress by its collar and staring at it in awe, eyes sparkling as she admired the work her brother had done.

Saki perked up for a moment, she turned her head towards Tsukasa. She gave him a meek smile. “Thank you, Onii-chan,” she told him, before rubbing the back of her neck. “A-and…sorry for getting mad at you, that day.”

Tsukasa’s eyes widened before he shook his head. “No, Saki, it’s fine—"

“It—it really isn’t, Onii-chan. I…”

Saki gulped, gaze set on the dress she had in her hands, attempting not to crumple it under the weight of the emotions she had been feeling these past few weeks. “…I just—you were always passionate about acting and performing shows, and I…”

“When I heard from mom that you were going to quit, I didn’t—I felt confused because I really liked your shows, and…I guess I never thought of the day that you’d quit doing them. Because I thought for a long time you were making shows to keep me happy, and I’m thankful for that, but—” Saki took a deep breath, almost hitching at the end of it.

“When mom said you quit…I thought you got tired of being forced to do that—" Tsukasa’s eyes widened at what she said— “and I…”

Tsukasa cut Saki’s words off by softly cupping her cheek, brushing away the tears building up in the corner of her eyes. “Saki…” His eyes softened. “I—I never felt forced to make shows because of you,” he whispered before standing up and pulling the younger blonde into a hug.

Silence trickled down the duo’s ears, save for the quiet sobs his younger sister released. “I never wanted to make shows because I felt forced by you to do that,” Tsukasa muttered, holding onto his sister in a warm embrace and letting her tears stain his shirt. “ I always wanted to make you smile. You never made me—and never will— feel forced to do anything.”

Saki let out a choked sob, burying her head into her brother’s shoulder, holding onto the dress he fixed for her as the tears continued to stream down her cheeks. Distantly, he could feel tears of his own building up at the corner of his eyes.

“You’re my sister,” Tsukasa whispered to her. Like a small secret shared between the two of them, like a fragile glass that would break at a single wrong graze of his fingers. “I’d do anything for you, and I’d do it because I want to, and because I love you.”

And Saki seemed to sob harder at that, but Tsukasa paid no mind to it. Only sifting his fingers through her hair to offer some form of comfort to her.

Even though it’s only been a few weeks—the feeling of being able to wrap a warm embrace against his sister was something he missed, even if he didn’t want to admit it.

Some days he wished he could hug her—and all because of the pained expression that she made on her face. Everytime he stole a glance at it, the gnawing reminder that he did something wrong echoed in his mind.

An actor, or not, Tsukasa would never want to hurt Saki.

He’d do anything to make sure she was having the greatest time in her life—she deserved it , after all. Not just because she’s his sister, but because she had been strong after all these years.

He’ll never know what Saki went through, being all alone in a hospital—a room with four white walls and a beeping heart monitor—and he’ll never know the pain she went through by being alone in a suffocating place. He could never know what she felt all these years.

Tsukasa would never wish to hurt Saki. He’d do anything just to never be able to do such a thing.

That’s why, in the early hours of daylight—where the sun was still high and the children were running around outside—with his arms embracing her, Tsukasa’s resolve steeled.

“…Maybe I’m no longer a star—” he leaned onto the embrace, resting his head against Saki’s— “but, I can certainly still shine, even just by a little, for Saki’s sake.”

(He wondered, distantly, if this light would fade out too. If, like the many things in his life, it would melt away. Shatter and dance across the wind as it takes them to a place farther than where he can go.

But if it was Saki, he wouldn’t mind burning himself out just to see her smile.)

Eventually, Saki pulled away. Wiping away her tears with a small giggle. “I…I’m still sorry, about being mad at you,” she quietly whispered, still holding onto the dress in one hand.

Tsukasa shook his head. “It’s really fine, Saki.” He gave her a soft smile. He opened his mouth to say something, but before he could, the girl in front of him shook her head, making him forget whatever words he wanted to say.

“This dress…” Saki tilted her head to look at him, bubbly pink eyes staring into his as a smile formed on both of their faces. “It’s really perfect, Onii-chan!”

Tsukasa chuckled at her response. “Is it?” he asked back, his smile turning sheepish at the compliment.

Saki nodded gleefully. “It is! I’ve never seen you work like that.” She giggled. “Seeing you sew on those designs was really cool —” She cut herself off, blinking for a moment before she let out a shriek.

“W-wait! I still have to go prepare for my date!” she stammered out, immediately folding the dress over her arm and bolting out the door, but before she could fully exit, Saki gave Tsukasa one last look—

Her eyes sparkled with joy. A wide grin stretched onto her face as happiness splattered all over her face, no longer frowning or sad. “She’s smiling again,” he idly thought.

“Onii-chan—” her grin widened, something that Tsukasa was sure he would never get tired of seeing— “Thank you!” she beamed, before sprinting out of the room.

Tsukasa stared at his door for a few seconds before letting out a yelp. “S-Saki! Don’t run, you might get injured!” he yelled out. Only receiving a loud “got it” in return.

He pursed his lips before letting out a sigh, the tension that he never knew existed on his shoulders spilled out of his body. Saki was happy, again.

The thought leaves a thin smile on his face. He’s glad that she doesn’t seem to be sad or bothered anymore. He vowed himself that he’d never try to do that again.

After a few minutes of silence Tsukasa’s mind wandered back to a few moments ago. “I’ve never seen you work like that,” her words echoed back in his head, replaying like a song on loop and circling his ears.

He furrowed his brows. It’s true that he felt a bit different whilst sewing on the details on her dress—the sense of calmness that washed over him and made him forget the world and the worries around him—he had never felt as far as he could remember.

…Was he really that different while sewing?

Tsukasa sighed, sitting on a plastic chair inside a waiting room in the local community centre.

He wished he could say he doesn’t know why he was here, but the truth is, he does.

He, apparently, got accepted past the initial stage of the audition, which was surprising since he was very used to getting rejected—

(The truth is, he dug his expectations and set them to be deeper than the core of the earth, so truly, was he just overreacting or what?)

— “And so I’m surprised,” he silently hissed to himself, pushing away the thoughts rippling in his head. “That I’m even here.”

Showing up to this was a formality, more than anything. The room was suffocating him. Dangling each and every one of his failures right in front of him, wishing he could bolt out of the room, but no, that would’ve been rude to the people who gave a single thought to his audition.

His thoughts were cut short when a woman barged into the room, walking up to the man working behind the front desk before slamming her hands against it. “Yuuto! What’s the meaning of this?” she hissed, only minding her volume because of all the participants around her.

The man behind the desk—Yuuto?—gave the woman a deadpan stare. “The person who handled costumes for our show quit, simple as that,” he answered half-heartedly. He seemed to have gotten this conversation plenty of times now.

The woman let out a growl, before slamming another hand on the desk, rattling the items on it and almost making a bottle of water tip downwards. “We have a show in a week! You didn’t think to tell this to us sooner!?”

“That’s because he left immediately,” Yuuto snarled back. “What was I supposed to do? I told them, ‘I’m afraid, per our contract, you can’t do much until the show ends’ —yet he still left, Risa.”

Tsukasa slowly stood up and made his way towards the two who were still bickering with one another. “You didn’t even think to stop him!?” Risa gestured her hands wildly, accentuating her anger at the situation.

“U-uhm—?”

“I did , for your information, I was doing my best to tell them it was only a week left , but because of your management’s poor lack of ability that he left—”

“Oh, so now it’s my fault? I’m not even the manager here! I am the director! Because of Nato’s foolish drunken babbling, we will be blamed for his stupidity!—”

Tsukasa let out, what he hoped was, a quiet groan. “Could these two get any more childish?” he mumbled to himself, the words audible against the wind as he rubbed his temples, slipping his eyes shut and letting darkness cover it.

It was only after a period of silence, did Tsukasa realise that their bickering had stopped. He perked up, lifting his head upwards and he could only let out a small noise of embarrassment as his gaze was met with the two workers staring at him.

And in a blink of an eye, their entire personalities had been turned upside down.

Risa chuckled softly. “Sorry, we were getting a bit too heated there—” Yuuto nodded, muttering quiet agreements under his breath— “is there anything we can do for you?” she asked Tsukasa.

The blond cleared his throat, still revelling in the sudden personality shift. “Uh…I actually heard you were talking about stage costumes?” he inquired, tilting his head a little as he spoke.

Yuuto sighed. “Unfortunately,” he grumbled out. “Our tailor for the show left before the show’s performance…there were still a few costumes needed to be done, but we don’t know how much time we have left to actually search for someone willing to do so much in a short amount of time.”

Tsukasa pursed his lips. Thinking over his options. “I…maybe I could help? I have experience with working on stage costumes. I do have to admit that it’s nothing professional, though,” he quietly offered the two.

Their heads snapped towards the blond. Risa chuckled nervously. “Sorry, but we—we’re not sure about…”

“But, Risa, we’re on low time,” Yuuto interjected, pinching the bridge of his nose. “If the kid’s offering, maybe you should accept it and just pay him later.”

Risa turned towards her co-worker. “Y-you—it’s not even legal, is it?” She buried her head in her hands, silence ringing into the room before she let out a groan.

“Okay, fine —” Risa pointed towards Tsukasa— “help us make our show’s costumes. We have most of the main character’s done, but the background ones are still unfinished. We’ll pay you once the show is done, got it?”

Tsukasa stayed still, staring at her for a moment before he nodded, a slight course of determination filling his bones. “Okay—”

“Where do I start?”

For the entire week, Tsukasa worked every waking hour on the costumes. Sewing different patches on, threading countless of needles with countless of threads—

Now, he stood backstage at the day of their performance. Helping different actors put on their costumes whilst ordering a few others who were willing to help those he couldn’t prioritise.

The actress he was helping out giggled. “And you made all of these on your own?” she questioned, a soft lilt in each word that she uttered.

Tsukasa nodded, eyes focused on the back of her dress as his hands swiftly buttoned it shut. “I did—it was a bit of a hassle, especially how I needed to make most of the background characters’ costumes, but it went well enough.” He stepped back, looking over the actress and checking if there were no issues in her dress for her next scene.

He nodded before giving her the green light, saying she can prepare herself before her entrance. And he stood there as he watched the actress scurry out the room with her costume.

He sighed, wiping the sweat out of his brow. He didn’t expect for this to be so much work. Maybe it was because he was only used to making costumes for four people and not a whole cast of them—but it was a little bit more draining than he thought.

A hand clapped his back, and he yelped. Swivelling his head around to see Risa, the director of the show. “Ri—Risa-san!” he shrieked out.

Risa chuckled heartily. “You did great, Tenma-kun,” she praised. “Those costumes of yours were amazing. And you did those all in a week?”

“Yeah—” Tsukasa chuckled nervously. “It was a little pressuring. I’ve never done costumes for so many people, but thankfully it was the background characters, so it wasn’t too much trouble.”

Risa sighed. “I’m glad, then,” she breathed out, before perking up with a raised brow. “Have you ever considered doing this? Maybe applying for a troupe’s tailor, or something?” she questioned, tilting her head to the side.

Tsukasa gave his own look of confusion, wondering what the director meant by her words. She seemed to not notice his confusion, only opting to continue. “These clothes were really good quality—and honestly, I think you’d do well in that area,” she suggested to him.

“Is…that so?” he mumbled out. He hasn’t thought of making costumes as his business. Truthfully, he’d rather be cut off from the entertainment industry as a whole, not wanting to be reminded of whatever had happened back then.

But he can’t stay in his parents’ house forever. He can’t continue doing nothing for the rest of his life—

And he could sew his worries away. Burning away the world around him leaving only him and the fabrics he sewed onto. He could sew away every worry that itched his brain, scratched his skin, and tickled his mind.

Tsukasa pursed his lips. “…I’ll think about it,” he responded vaguely. Not giving a proper answer to the director in front of him.

Though, it wasn’t a surprise that some part of him had already made up his mind.

It had been two months since he helped Risa and her troupe. The show went off without a problem—if he had to hazard a guess from the cheer and applause that he had heard from behind the stage’s curtain.

The busy chatter of the city crowd trickled through his ears. Sun high into the sky casting down its rays onto the streets below.

Tsukasa took a deep breath as he entered the shop he normally went to buy sewing supplies. “I need a few new fabrics and threads…” he silently reminded himself, trying to find the fabric and thread aisle.

He walked around the store. His eyes perked up as he saw the familiar shelves filled with various fabrics of different kinds, when he heard a gasp somewhere near him. “Tsukasa-senpai?” a familiar voice called out.

He turned his head around, looking for who could have called out to him when he saw a familiar blur of light pink hair.

“Oh,” he quietly breathed out. He put on a wide grin on his face and waved to them. “Akiyama!” he greeted them. “How have you been?” he asked as the other girl walked towards him.

Mizuki chuckled with a grin equally wide as his. “Good as ever!” They tilted their head to the side. “What are you doing here, Tsukasa-senpai? Buying more fabrics?”

Tsukasa nodded in response. “Indeed! I’m currently making costumes for a show—and I’ve run out of a particular fabric needed for one of the outfits.”

Mizuki raised their brows. “You joined another troupe?” they questioned.

He felt his face sour for a split-second before shaking his head. “No,” he told them, “They paid me to make their costumes, and I accepted it.”

The other only seemed to be more surprised by the information. They let out an awkward chuckle. “Is that so?”

Tsukasa nodded back with a hum. “How about you, Akiyama? May I ask what you’re doing here?” The other rubbed the back of their neck, a sheepish expression painting their face.

“W-well, the truth is, I actually need a job…so—” they let out a giggle— “I’ve been taking commissions here and there to sew some really cute clothes for people. Right now, I’m looking for people who’d be up for that kind of thing…”

Tsukasa perked up at the other’s response. It was then his turn to tilt his head. “You are?”

Mizuki nodded. “Yeah, it’s been okay, but…” they chuckled once more. “I was hoping to be able to do more, I guess?” They shook their head before laughing it off. “It doesn’t matter. Anyway, Tsukasa-senpai—”

“Why don’t you work with me, then?”

Mizuki’s eyes widened at the other’s interruption. Staring at him wordlessly as they seemed to process what he just said.

Tsukasa continued. “I’d need a few helpers around my business, and I wouldn’t mind if you helped me, Akiyama—that is, if you want to.”

Mizuki pursed their lips, seemingly thinking thoroughly about the offer before they heaved out a sigh. “Fine…” they drawled out, before immediately beaming. “I’ll help you with your sewing business, Tsukasa-senpai!” they lent out their hand to shake.

Tsukasa gave them an equal grin of his own before taking their hand. “I look forward to working with you, then!” He let out a chuckle at this unexpected but welcome predicament.

Mizuki gave a giggle of their own, walking alongside Tsukasa as he began trying to find the fabric he needed from the shelves. “Now that I think about it, Tsukasa-senpai, what’s your business called?”

Tsukasa turned his head towards Mizuki before giving them a wide grin.

“It’s called Stitches and Stars.”

Chapter Text

The moon was high up into the sky, and darkness began crawling through the corners of the world. When it was time for people to be resting on their beds, laying asleep with a gallery of dreams, Rui was awake—not for the first time, and he doubted it would be the last.

He sighed into the pillow of his couch. Head thrumming with a dull pain that didn’t seem to have any plans to leave his mind soon. He slipped his eyes shut, as he remembered a distant conversation he once had.

It was a few weeks after Rui left Wonderlands×Showtime, and to say that his mind was a cluttered mess would have been an understatement.

On one hand, he’s happy he could make something and expand on his ability to direct shows and create plays that satisfy his imagination—

And on the other, he doesn’t know how to feel about this loneliness creeping in his heart.

Rui had eventually given up on the idea of being able to focus on his inventions—something that’s been happening recently—and soon found himself wandering around SEKAI for a while.

Which brought him back to his current conversation.

Rui squinted at the virtual singer. “…What do you mean, Len-kun?” he asked him. Brows furrowed in confusion as he sat on a bench, gently patting a plushie that decided to sit next to him.

Len fidgeted with his fingers, not meeting Rui’s gaze as he thought of what to say. “…Both Kaito and Miku won’t say anything, but I’m pretty sure all of us Virtual Singers know—something is going on with the SEKAI.”

Rui frowned. “Something’s wrong with the SEKAI?…” he trailed off, tilting his head downwards. He silently connected the dots in his head before his face blanched. “…Does that mean something is wrong with Tsukasa-kun, as well?” he questioned, voice dropping as the realisation struck him.

“…Probably,” Len mumbled, rubbing his arms up and down in a self-soothing motion. “I don’t know everything, unlike Miku, but since we are created from Tsukasa’s true feelings, I know most of us know something is going on.”

“Do you know what it is?”

His question was only met with silence. Rui turned his head upwards to look at the virtual singer, and was met with a look of worry on Len’s face.

“You already know what it is, Rui-kun.”

He sighed. “…Tsukasa-kun,” he mumbled into the air. Words holding a veil of fragility as his heart ached at the thought of the blond he was once familiar with.

“Just what exactly had happened to you?”

Rui asked—no, begged for an answer into his own mind, hoping that he could hear the blond’s voice once again. See the way his mouth curled upwards at every little thing that brought him joy.

He hoped that what Len said wasn’t true. But if it was, he hoped that he could reach out to the blond and do something about it. He wished that he could do more as Tsukasa’s friend—

Yet no matter how many times he wished and hoped, all that rang in his head was silence.

Rui sat in his office, eyes peering over the documents on his desk. He sighed, mind thinking over the possible ideas on his current predicament.

A knock echoed in his office, interrupting his thoughts. He perked up, before turning his head towards the door behind him. “Come in,” he grumbled out to the person behind it, hoping they heard his disgruntled response.

The door pushed open, and behind it was a familiar face he had come to see many times. “Nene,” his mind responded back to him as he looked over at the diva who was leaning on the door, arms folded over her chest.

The diva sighed. “Rui,” she grunted out, “weren’t the costumes going to arrive earlier this morning? The play…” she trailed off for a moment, “it’s almost in a week, isn’t it?”

Rui perked up at the mention of the costumes. “Ah yes, the costumes,” he half-heartedly recalled, turning back to his desk and opting to eye over the now suddenly interesting paperwork in front of him. “Yes—about that…”

Nene clicked her tongue. “What happened?” she bristled. Although Rui couldn’t see her face, he’d assume that she would have a…not so pleased look.

“Our usual supplier decided to announce that they’re handling far too many requests as of the moment, and are unable to handle ours,” he responded back, before taking his mouse and closing a few unneeded tabs, hearing the light sound of Nene’s footsteps behind him.

“However—” he pulled up a tab and began scrolling to the very top of the page before the diva could respond— “I had already emailed this one, and I’m currently waiting for their response.”

Nene leaned forward, squinting at the screen as she took in the company’s name. “Stitches and Stars…” She took her time to scan through the page before in a few minutes, her eyes widened.

“W-wait…you—” she snapped her head towards him, disbelief etching the features of her face as she processed the words— “the one that Tsukasa runs?”

Rui could only chuckle in response.

…If he had to be honest, he had been trying to see what Tsukasa was up to right after he left Wonderlands×Showtime. However, the other had no intention of answering his attempts at conversation—much less, read them—and so he took to the internet. Knowing Tsukasa, he was probably doing something pertaining to his “world future star” activities but—

There was none. Yes, there were a few articles talking about past events from two or three years ago (such as the night show they held at Phennyland), but none that were recent from this week—hell, there wasn’t even a single one that year.

When the thought came crawling back to him some weeks ago, he decided to try it again—see if the blond only had any progress in his endeavours, however imagine his surprise when nothing came up—or, at least, nothing but a website about a sewing company found under Tsukasa’s name.

(…Distantly, Rui is aware his actions are a bit overkill—going to the internet to know more about his friend who had been ghosting him for about four years? That isn’t normal people behaviour, and he’d be lying if he said he didn’t agree with the statement.

Though, if anyone were to say that to him—not that they would, he would have passed away before he could consider telling it to someone, lest he want Nene to mock him in any way—he supposed that, there was a reason why he was known as a “Weirdo” throughout the majority of his life.

…Though he tried not to think about the stinging pain in his heart whenever he thinks of that title during high school. And, for once, the ache in his heart wasn’t because of the loneliness that normally came with it.)

Nene pursed her lips, turning back to the monitor in front of him as she tucked away a strand of her hair. She opened her mouth to say something but was promptly cut off by the sound of his computer ringing a notification.

Rui scooted over slightly, giving Nene a bit of space while still being in the centre of the desk. He checked the notification, eyes widening as he realised it was an e-mailed response.

He clicked on it, and was greeted with the painfully bright background of the G-mail website. He hissed, eyes squinting at his screen.

Nene blinked at him. “You do know that you can change the themes in G-mail…right?” Rui stilled for a moment before he turned his head towards the greyish-green haired girl.

“…You can?”

Nene could only let out a sigh of disappointment, rubbing one of the temples of her head whilst Rui chuckled awkwardly at the interaction.

He checked the email he had recently received, eyes widening as he read over the contents of it. “It says that they’re willing to have a meeting with us today,” he told the diva.

Nene’s eyes mimicked his own. “It does?” She looked back on the director’s screen. Muttering “holy shit” under her breath as she skimmed through it. “It’s later, at three in the afternoon—you have time for that, do you?”

Rui nodded, not tearing his gaze away from the email. He pursed his lips, sneaking a glance at Nene before looking back at the time displayed on the top of his monitor. “Do you want to join?” he asked her.

Nene’s face pinched. “…Wouldn’t we meet Tsukasa though?” She crossed her arms as Rui stood up from his chair and began looking for a coat to wear over his button-up. “I mean, it’d be good if we did, but…”

“Well—” Rui smoothened his hair— “the company is very well-known. I highly doubt that we’d even see him with how famous his company is.” He turned back to the diva, who was still staring at her. “Well?”

Nene kept her gaze for a moment before letting out a resigned sigh. “Give me a few moments,” she grumbled back, walking past him as she walked towards the exit of his office.

“I’ll wait for you outside of the building, then?”

Nene put on her shoes that were by the door, pondering over the question before she gave out a hum of agreement. “Sure.”

Sooner or later, Nene was out of the door, and Rui was left with the presence of silence. He let out a sigh before shutting off his computer and walking towards the front door.

He put on his shoes—tying the laces on it before looking back at his office, fingers resting on the switches before he took a deep breath. He flicked the lights shut, walking out the door and shutting it behind him.

The two eventually got on a bus, sitting beside one another while they waited for their stop. While on the bus, he had made sure to check the address on the email as well as an attached image of the building where Stitches and Stars’ business was located. (Rui had assumed that the company had a warehouse with how famous it was, but from the direction they were going, it didn’t seem to be the case.)

Eventually, the two of them arrived at their stop and got off the bus. A few minutes of walking, and Rui is pleased to see the building shown in the photo. The two wasted no time walking towards the entrance, taking the flight of stairs and heading for the second floor. It didn’t take too long before they saw a sign with the company’s name on it.

Nene let out a sigh, walking towards the door and holding onto its handle, pushing it forward but before she could, Rui carefully took her other hand’s wrist, causing the diva to jolt and snap her head towards him.

“…What if we end up seeing Tsukasa-kun,” he whispered. A trail of disbelief creeping in on the edges of his words. He had disregarded the thought, not wanting to dwell on it, but now faced with the reality in front of him—he found himself stuck on his spot with hesitance.

He had tried avoiding it for as much as he could—and although the chances were slim, he might just end up meeting the very person who ignored him the past few years.

Nene huffed. “You—you can’t be backing out now…” she muttered half-disappointedly. “Look, we probably won’t see him—like you said. So…” She gave the director a thin smile. “It’ll be fine.”

Rui kept his gaze on her for a few seconds before taking in a gulp of fresh air. “Okay…” He nodded with a confident (albeit shaky) hum. “I can do this,” he reassured himself.

He can’t, actually. But he has to do this—for the show. If not for himself, then he has to do this for the people he was working with.

With a newfound confidence, he watched as Nene pushed the door open, walking inside whilst the bell hovered on top of it rang. He followed right behind her, taking in a breath of the familiar scent of air conditioning after having walked under the sun’s rays the past few minutes.

A few mannequins (with no eyes, thankfully) were situated at one end of the shop. Various costumes displayed with accessories over their heads as they proudly presented the works that the company has done. He also heard that, aside from show costumes, they also take personal commissions.

A thud erupts from the back of the store. Leaving the two at the front of it wincing. “What…?” Before he could finish his words, Rui was cut off by a yell.

“Give me a few minutes!” rang out, followed by a bit of shuffling, a few indiscernable hisses were heard, but Rui paid no mind to it for the sake of squinting his eyes at the door behind the counter.

“Was that…” Rui pursed his lips, disbelief coursing through his veins. “No, surely that wasn’t—?”

Rui had no time to finish his thoughts, interrupted by the sound of the door behind the counter slamming open, eliciting a flinch from him and Nene.

A familiar blond walked out of the door, sweat beading off his face as he sprinted over to the front desk and slamming both hands on it, rattling the objects above it as he heaved breaths in and out.

The blond took another deep breath. “Sorry about that!” he told the two of them. Rui’s eyes widen by an inch as he took in the familiar hues of blond fading into soft cherry red.

Tsukasa turned his head upwards. Fiery orange eyes meeting his golden eyes. Rui’s breath hitched. “Welcome to Stitches and Stars! How may I help you?” Tsukasa greeted them, mouth stretched into a wide grin as he stared at the two of them.

This is where the part Rui says something. Give a grin, greet the other, and tell him what they needed from him. That was fine. It would’ve been fine if it was someone else. If it wasn’t Tsukasa standing in front of him.

If it were a stranger, he wouldn’t be standing in front of them, gaping at the sight in front of him. If it were anyone else—but it wasn’t. This was Tenma Tsukasa, the same person who helped him back in highschool. The person who showed him he had a chance to thrive and fulfill the dreams that were stomped by the society he lived in.

The same person who ghosted him for four years, and the same person whose heart clenched at the sight of.

He should be the one speaking—yet, distantly, he could hear Nene doing all the talking he was supposed to do. And as much as he wanted to apologise to her for having to do that, all the words he had in the back of his throat were swept under him and turned into a fleeting swarm of butterflies.

Rui took a deep breath—muffled under the conversation Nene and Tsukasa had, both acting on professional terms. His eyes dart towards the blond, then back at his childhood friend. “Why…are they acting like this?” he silently asked himself.

They don’t speak to one another as if they have been in arms’ reach for more than a year. They don’t speak as if they knew each other in the past. They don’t speak as if they were friends before co-workers. No—

They spoke as if they were strangers. Like they knew nothing about one another. As if they never existed in each other’s lives before this moment.

Nene turned her head towards him. “Did you get all of that, Rui?” The director’s head perked up. He willed away the expression on his face as soon as his eyes met hers.

“Ah, I apologise,” he told her, “I was…distracted.” He chuckled awkwardly, a sheepish grin on his face to which Nene only sighed at.

“I told him about the fabrics and the deadline—” Tsukasa nodded along her words, blond curls bouncing up and down with the motion— “and I told him that you would be sending the cast’s measurements.” Nene gave him a pointed glare. Rui only smiled back at it, knowing that he won’t be escaping this conversation.

Tsukasa hummed in agreement, fidgeting with the pen that somehow managed its way into his hands. “I heard that you’ll need it done by Wednesday?” he asked in the air, turning the pages of his clipboard as he hummed. “I’ll have it done by then!”

Nene nodded. Rui moved out of the way once the diva made her walk towards the exit of the shop. “Well, then, we’ll see you on Wednesday…” Nene pursed her lips. “Tenma-san.”

At the sudden formality of her words, Rui bristled. But before he could even react, Nene stepped out into the door, holding it open and giving the director a confused gaze when she saw him stand still, not moving an inch and leaving a suffocating silence between the three of them.

Rui set his gaze back on Tsukasa, lips thinned out as the words failed to leave his tongue. Mind jumbled at the sudden swiftness of the conversation.

Truth be told, Rui had many questions to ask the blond. Ranging from mundane, tension-free questions such as “why is your shop located here?” from ones that could, potentially have them banned for eternity from this shop, most notably: “Where were you?”

But, in the end, he asked the question most burning in his mind.

“Tsukasa-kun…” Rui began. Noticing the way the blond flinched at the mention of his name, tilting his head upwards for his orange eyes to meet with his golden ones. “…Did you—did you quit…theatre?”

If the air in the store was suffocating before—now, it was actively choking all three of them to death. Rui knew that something wasn’t right, the moment he saw Tsukasa’s name under this company as the founder. He knew something went wrong, and that something would have likely been a sore subject—especially if it was Tsukasa, the one who had proclaimed to soon be a “world future star”, was the one who was affected by it.

Tsukasa gave him a strained smile. “I did,” he responded, and something inside Rui cracks under the admission. “Is there something wrong with that?”

“Yes, there is. Many things.” Rui wished he could say those words aloud. He wished he could ask the other what exactly went wrong, but—

Where were you? What happened?

Why do you keep smiling like that—

—Like you forgot what it means to smile?

Rui gave back an equally fake—albeit smaller—smile of his own. “…Is there a reason why?” he questioned back to the other. Not expecting a complete and honest answer, because between the two of them, neither were willing to face their own problems straight on.

Tsukasa stared at the purple-haired man in front of him. Eyes darting by a metre as his gaze never left his own. After a beat of silence, Tsukasa chuckled.

“No, not really. I mean, it just wasn’t cut out for me—” Not cut out? Rui thought incredulously— “So, yeah!” Tsukasa beamed back at him, tension gone from the room as a smile stretched on his face.

But even if you threatened him Rui couldn’t—and never will— believe that smile on his face. He couldn’t believe he was smiling as if he wasn’t pretending this was fine, as if he had accepted it already, as if—

As if everything he did back in highschool was just for show.

Nene tugged on his sleeve. “Come on, you idiot,” she grumbled to him, causing the director to perk up at the sudden action. “We have other things to do, and the sooner we leave, the sooner he can start on them.” She tilted her head outside, a sense of urgency laid underneath her words.

Rui blinked, staring at her face before he slowly nodded. “…Yes,” he muttered out, hesitance blotched all over the words he uttered. “We should be going now, yes.” He turned back to Tsukasa and gave him a bow.

“I apologise for the inconvenience,” he rushed out, turning around and walking out of the door right after. His shoulders accidentally bumped Nene’s, but he couldn’t wring out an apology from his tongue.

Rui took a deep breath, the hot clammy air of summer making its way through his lungs as he walked towards the stairs of the building. “He couldn’t, he couldn’t, he couldn’t,” he uttered to himself, words looping in his mind as disbelief trailed behind him.

He couldn’t believe the person he saw was the same person from highschool. The same person who went to a rooftop to ask him to be their troupe’s director. The same person who gave him the choice of change. The same person who he had thoroughly believed was his friend. The same person who helped him achieve everything he had been dreaming of.

This was that person? That was Tenma Tsukasa?

Rui took a gulp of air through gritted teeth, distantly noting how he reached the bottom of the stairs. “It couldn’t be there…”

There’s no way that was him, is there?

He clenched his fists, thoughts drenching over him and circling his mind, disbelief etched each and every single one of them—yet there was no room to breathe as countless questions plagued his mind.

But before he could spiral further into his sea of questions, a tap poked through his thoughts. Rui flinched, snapping his head behind him, and it was with little surprise that his golden eyes were met with Nene’s purple ones.

She sighed, crossing her arms against her chest as she gave him a look of exasperation. “What was that?” she hissed, lacking any anger in her voice.

Rui chuckled awkwardly, hand rubbing the back of his neck. “Ah, what could you possibly mean by that?” he deflected to the other, not wanting to breach the topic of…whatever that was, now that he thought about it.

Nene rolled her eyes, gesturing for the director to get a move on. “You were doing…that—” her face pinched— “that thing where you begin to act like a depressed cat,” she grumbled.

Rui blinked as he walked alongside the diva, words not fully reaching him. “…Depressed cat?” he echoed back. He gave Nene a confused look. “I’m…not? A cat, I mean. I’m not a cat.”

She huffed as she crossed her arms. “Sure you aren’t. But you’re not denying the depressed part.” Nene turned her head towards him. “Come on, spill,” she urged him. “What’s going on in your head now?”

Rui stared at her for a few seconds, watching her figure in front of him as the two of them walked towards the nearest bus stop. A beat of silence and contemplation passed before he sighed.

“It’s…Tsukasa-kun,” he murmured defeatedly, drooping a little at the reminder of the blond inside the tailor shop.

Nene huffed, and Rui could feel a hint of irritance in the noise. “Of course it’s him…” she grumbled underneath her breath. “He really had the gall to act as if we didn’t know each other—I really wish I could’ve punched him square in the face.”

Rui let out a snort of concern. “…Punch him?” he parroted back. “Isn’t that a bit extreme?” he asked her, watching as she scoffed and rolled her eyes.

“To your loverboy mind, it is,” Nene huffed out, turning her head away from the director who was staring at her with a confused look.

Silence riddled the air, encasing the two as both of them processed the words for two vastly different reasons.

The diva sighed. “…Okay, maybe it is, but—”

“He didn’t talk to us for four years, and when he does—he just…acts as if he didn’t know us, at all.” Nene frowned. “Isn’t that weird?”

Rui hummed. He thinks back to all the memories he had being with his troupe. The days where he had fun unleashing the wild ideas he had been meaning to share as a child, the days he sat with all of them as not only their co-workers, but as their friends.

He thinks back to the days where he’d sit on that shobby rooftop of Kamiyama High, and the way that the door would creak open on that fateful day and he’d meet the one person who gave him what it felt like to change after years of isolation and loneliness.

And then, he thinks back to Tsukasa—the Tsukasa he met, who was a tailor, not an actor. The Tsukasa who paid no mind to their—to his— existence. The Tsukasa whose smiles never reached his eyes. The Tsukasa who can’t smile the same way he used to.

…No, it wasn’t just weird , unlike what Nene said.

If anything, it was absurd.

“Tsukasa-kun wasn’t that kind of person to just…ghost us, was he?”

He almost stopped as another question wormed his way inside his mind. Rattling in his spine and trickling down his arms as he felt a bead of sweat drip down his chin.

“…Did I ever know Tsukasa in the first place?”

Tsukasa huffed. Puffing his cheeks as he sewed on the seams of the background character’s costume. Somehow, the clothes don’t have any plans on cooperating with him, which is not what he needed right now.

He sighed, stabbing the needle into a pincushion before leaning back on his chair, mind drifting back to the thoughts of today. Making a mental checklist of the things he needed to finish.

His mind reels back to Rui and how much he’s changed over the years, and how vastly different he must be now.

Tsukasa let out a silent choke. Face heating up by a degree as he thought of the director. Unable to keep a smile off his face, especially with how his heart warmed up in an unfamiliar way.

He took a deep breath through gritted teeth, trying to calm himself down as he shook his head. “…No, I don’t have any right to think of him like that.”

Tsukasa picked up the needle and the fabric, trying to fight off the frown on his face as he continued his job.

He can’t be thinking of Rui, not as a friend, or a former co-worker.

He’s not deserving enough to do that.

Chapter Text

The days that followed went by with a simple order; push the needle in through the fabric, then pull it back. Push it in, and then out—the act imprinted itself onto his brain, he wouldn’t be surprised if he could do it in his sleep.

How many outfits had he sewn…? Tsukasa flicked his gaze to the side for a brief moment before snapping them back to his work. Almost done, he thought to himself, knotting the thread and trimming its remains. I just need to finish…one last character’s, and then I’m good to go.

Tsukasa took a deep breath in, then another one out. One last one, he muttered silently to himself, already forming a plan as to how the rest of the night would go. As he mentally prepared himself to stand up from his desk, his phone abruptly buzzed, causing his movement to falter.

The blonde blinked at the device for a moment. “…Who could be messaging me at this hour?” he silently asked. “It’s not like there was anything…” He reached out to it, fingers hovering over the sleek black of his phone before taking it into his hands.

He turned the thing on. There was only one message, and it was Mizuki’s.

Tsukasa’s brows furrowed, before he tapped onto the notification.

“Close the shop Tsukasa-senpai!!!” the message read, “I can tell you’re still working on that costume!! Get your ass out of the workshop and go home!!!”

Tsukasa sighed. Looks like his plans were cut short now. His eyes flicked onto the top-left corner of the screen. “10:37pm,” it kindly told him. It was already late— god, it was? What time did he come into the shop this morning? Was it five, or was it nine?—and there’s pretty much nothing else to do. Or, there is pretty much nothing his aching body would let him do.

As Tsukasa slowly stood up, his knees buckled under him. Only managing to stay inches away from the floor thanks to his hands holding onto the desk in front of him. This, he silently grumbled, is why he shouldn’t be left to his own devices. Because the only thing he gets in return is muscle cramps and an added load of stress.

Tsukasa slowly got himself up from his hunched-over state, taking a moment to stand and be still before cleaning the desk, and making sure to keep the outfit he had worked on in a proper area before properly closing the shop.

Tsukasa took one last look at his shop. Stitches and Stars, the small sign called out to him. That was his. Something he built from the ground up, with his own two hands and the help of Mizuki’s.

He turned around, it’s time to go home.

Tsukasa stretched his arms again. A new day, and one last piece of clothing left. That’s all he has to do, and all this is over. He picked up his trustworthy sewing needle on one hand, and the clothing on the other.

One last one, Tsukasa thought, and so he began.

Pushing needles in and out like a practised dance, sewing buttons and pockets with a certain rhythm—in a way, it sort of was. He had sat on this chair everyday since he started the business. He’s always been sitting here, sewing by day, and sewing by night.

His mind would rather stay stuck in this same place in a dull fashion than think of the why. Why he’s doing all of this, why he’s subjecting himself to such a mind-numbing task everyday for the past two years.

He doesn’t want to ask why. So he doesn’t.

Instead, he’ll sew onto his fabrics his pretty laces and threads, his buttons and pins, and only hope that the world goes away while he does it.

And so today he, too, held onto thin strands of hope, sewing in every single detail of the costume. His thread being his lifeline as he modified the fabric and let it bend to his will—at one point, Mizuki entered in, yet at that point, he’s too far gone to care.

While lost in his self-satisfying dance, his mind wandered to the role of the actor to wear this costume.

Apparently, the role was the villain of the story—a wealthy and influential pharmacist who inhibited the distribution of medicines for some rich-person reason. It was a much deeper explanation than that—but Tsukasa had to care less about it.

Upon the initial viewing of the design, Tsukasa did his best to stay in-track of the original demand—truly, he did! But then he found some places where he could add more flair to the design—and he also found another area that could add a bit more emphasis that the pharmacist was filthy rich…

This has happened to every single costume he designed the past few days.

Seconds blur into minutes, minutes blur into hours. Yet at some point in the afternoon, Tsukasa stepped away from the mannequin that wore the costume he had spilled hours on. Eyes glistening with pride as he obsessed over the details he had worked on. Like how he wonderfully executed this area of the suit here…or how the buttons of the pants were just oh so perfectly done over there…

“So—” Tsukasa jumped, snapping his head around with his amber eyes meeting pink ones, taking all of his willpower not to knock over his masterpiece. “You done yet, Mr. Sews-a-lot?” Mizuki questioned, twirling a pencil in her hands as she leaned over his chair.

“S-since when did you get here!?” he screeched, ignoring the urge to grab the mannequin behind him that held the piece he had spent all his time and effort in.

Mizuki giggled, hand stifling the noise. “Nothing you need to worry your little head over,” she teased. She tilted her head, looking at him questioningly. “Ah, but—that’s the last of your commission, isn’t it?”

Tsukasa nodded, stepping aside to show off his masterpiece. “Indeed! This is the last of it.” The tailor brushed off the dust on the clothes, wanting it to be at its highest quality as he presented it to the actor who’d wear it. “It’s Tuesday today, isn’t it?”

“Huh?” the fashionista responded. “No it isn't—” Tsukasa stilled as his blood ran with ice— “it’s Wednesday today.”

Mizuki tilted her head, staring at the blond, wondering what happened to the noise that often followed him. She opened her mouth to speak, but as she was about to—

“It’s today!?”

Tsukasa’s chest heaved in and out, greedily taking any oxygen that would enter his lungs. He leaned onto a wall for a moment, and upon finding a couch, his feet immediately stumbled their way towards it.

His muscles burned. Yet he’s more than utterly grateful for the mercy his limbs decided to give him today, for not deciding to separate from his torso in his act of cruelty.

The moment he heard Mizuki’s response, he began packing up— with care, of course!—the commissioned clothes. He dashed out of the tailor’s shop, carrying nothing but a bag full of clothes in his arms, before quickly making his way to the train station.

God…how unbelievable and unprofessional of him to just forget the day today! He must’ve gotten so lost and entranced in the art of sewing, that all of the important details such as the day today just— slipped out of his mind!

Luckily, he hadn’t missed the train. Which would’ve made matters worse, as he arrived in what he could only pray is a not unreasonably late hour…

Tsukasa combed his hair with his free hand, his back straightening as he slowly trudged his way towards the receptionist. “Ah, good afternoon,” he greeted her with a small smile.

The receptionist smiled back, hands immediately finding itself onto her keyboard. “Good morning! How may I help you today?” she inquired.

Tsukasa cleared his throat, the composed line of thought he once had now beginning to crumble under her gaze. “I’d like to…” Was that too embarrassing? No, new script— “I have a commision,” he eventually decided, “for Kamishiro Rui, and his troupe.”

The receptionist’s brows rose before she turned to her computer. Fingers typing away at an incredible and well-practised speed. “Let’s see…” She let out an “aha!” the moment she found what she was looking for.

“You were…supposed to be here twenty minutes ago—”

Tsukasa winced . Of course, he was late. That was no surprise—even if he prayed, he was bound to be late. But the trouble he brought on for being twenty minutes late surely made not only Ru— his client , upset, but also this receptionist who was only doing her job…

He should’ve been more responsible. More punctual . He ran a business, such unpunctuality would’ve cost him more than just his pride as a tailor .

His gaze dropped to the ground as he frowned. Letting the silence, disappointment, and frustration take over his thoughts.

Tsukasa blinked. He hadn’t caught a single thing of what the receptionist was saying to him. “Ah, s-sorry, where was I supposed to go again…?”

The receptionist smiled back. How kind of her. “Down the hall over there—” she gestured towards the hall to her right— “There should be a door there that says Nox Stage. You’ll find Director Kamishiro there.”

Tsukasa smiled, hoping it wasn’t strained, before thanking the receptionist and walking towards the direction.

And for now, he lets himself drown in his thoughts.

Meeting with Rui—with Kamishiro , he painfully corrected himself—once, was enough. Maybe he shouldn’t have accepted this commission.

No. No, there were no maybe’s in this situation. He knew that he shouldn’t have. He had cut ties with his past days of foolishness. Accepting this commission was a mistake. What goal was he trying to achieve by accepting it? He should’ve turned down the email the moment he read it.

He’s no longer blinded by a dream left to him by a child who’s only wish was to live on despite being unable to.

He’s better this way.

Tsukasa stopped. His gaze set on a sign that told him in fancy cursive that he had reached his destination— Nox Stage, the sign read to him. He turned towards the door, twisting its handle, and opening it.

And for a moment, Tsukasa is a kid again.

Rows of red-cushioned seats blanketed almost every inch of the room. Stairs led down to the front row seats where the stage stood; dazzling in the spotlight even with the lack of an audience to cheer.

Tsukasa himself could feel it. Each of these chairs being filled to the brim with people—young and old, strangers and friends—he could imagine it. He could feel the joy that seeped off of every show that once took place. Every story brought to life by the power of those troupe, and every audience member that sat in those seats— smiling.

It’s almost addicting, he idly thought. Something inside of him yearned. Something inside of him screamed, begged, wailed to run down those steps. Feel the warmth of the sun, of the star he looked up to whose name he can no longer utter. He wants to hold it, grasp it, reach for it—

His amber eyes met with familiar gold ones.

He stood on a stage, far from him to the point he could barely make out his face. But something inside Tsukasa told him that he was smiling. He could tell; he could feel it.

Kamishiro waved his arm around in the air, calling for his attention. “Good afternoon, Tenma-san!” he shouted out, startling a few of the actors’ near him.

And something inside Tsukasa shifted.

As Tsukasa whirled around the backstage, making sure every outfit fit just right onto each of his actors’ figures, Rui… thinks.

Rui hadn’t expected…any of this. Seeing Tsukasa again—although it was a wish, a prayer, a desire he held onto so tightly—it was never something he had anticipated. This wasn’t something that he had planned to happen in the next few days of his life—and the way it all happened was something he was expecting even less .

Perhaps it was silly that he had grown used to imagining how meeting Tsukasa once again would’ve been like. Would it have been a loud, cheerful reunion? One where Tsukasa would loudly call out his name, and he’d run up to him and exchange pleasantries? Or would it have been quiet, silent even? A stark contrast to what he had gotten used to—where neither would notice one another, and it would be just a momentary, “Ah, Tsukasa-kun,” from him, or perhaps a “Rui?” from the blond.

Rui had gotten used to knowing Tsukasa. He was very predictable—something he had gotten far too used to in his highschool days. He knew Tsukasa as well as he knew himself, and these silly expectations didn’t seem out of realm for what he considered was “Tsukasa’s character”.

So it was more than a surprise to him when his expectations were shattered. He didn’t expect that the next time the two of them would meet, it was at a small shop owned by the star, where Rui needed someone kind enough to help him solve his issue of a lack of supplier, and Tsukasa was not an actor of any kind—but rather a tailor whose eyes were sunken and no longer holding the radiance of a “star”. Instead adorning clouds over his head and his personality dampened by different shades of grey.

He hadn’t expected that Tsukasa would be here, inside Nox Stage. Closer than he’s ever been to the star in the past two or three years since they separated yet millions of kilometres away. He hated how much he knew that no few steps towards the blond will bring the distance between the two of them to a close.

…And at this rate, the distance will continue to slowly rip open. Like a fabric being stretched too thin, or a knife creating an incision into the skin. Perhaps even a human’s wits being pushed to its end—the distance will continue to grow.

Does Rui want that? After years of not talking—years of no updates, messages, calls, or anything—does he want to keep Tsukasa at an arm’s length? Is he compelled to ensure that Tsukasa stays as far as any god would let him? Like…like some sort of divine punishment for not talking to him?

He’s unlike Nene. Nene may have grown to be more blunt and honest, but Rui couldn’t give the same treatment. Not to anyone, especially not to Tsukasa. He couldn’t imagine himself treating the blond with cold harsh words or actions. He can’t imagine himself letting anger be the only thing running the engine, not anymore.

He just couldn’t.

Whatever Tsukasa had done to him—from the day the two met, to their time together in their troupe, to the time spent separated without contact, all the way to the present…

Whatever Tsukasa had done to him, it left him like this—

Tsukasa stepped back from one of the actors, before walking closer to him. “The costumes are done! Only minor changes were needed, but they should be good to go.”

Rui nodded in return. “Thank you.” He turned to the rest of his troupe, calling out to them, “Everyone! We’ll have a dress rehearsal. We will begin in ten minutes, prepare yourselves.”

—And for Rui, that was fine.

Tsukasa made him worried, and a bit of a mess, but since it’s him, Rui’s willing to forgive him for all the years he wasn’t here. For everything.

Tsukasa packed up his belongings, gathering the sewing kit and the bags he had brought in. He stood up, ready to leave the stage, hoping he’d never have to step foot inside it ever again—

“Would you like to watch?”

Tsukasa was left blinking at the offer. The words uttered to him sent him reeling. He turned to the speaker. “…What?”

The director stood frozen for a moment before chuckling, scratching the nape of his neck. “Well—you see, we haven’t done a dress rehearsal in these costumes yet, and I’m worried that perhaps the clothes may…rip. Tear, and break—which, although I hope wouldn’t happen…it’s still a possibility.”

Kamishiro’s back straightened, a small smile etching itself onto his lips. “Besides, you’ll be able to see how the costumes look on the actors. Perhaps it’ll make you feel more accomplished, seeing the costumes on stage?”

Tsukasa stared at the director, weighing the options on his hands.

“Kamishiro…” Tsukasa idly thought, “he’s not wrong, though. It would be nice if I could see them in action…and it would be a shame as well if the costumes I worked on were to be ripped apart mid-rehearsal…”

His eyes met with the director’s, and his fate was sealed.

Tsukasa sighed, resting his hand on his hip. “If the director says so, then I shall,” he muttered, mostly to himself, more than anything. “I’ll watch your rehearsal, since you invited me to.”

Kamishiro’s lips curved upwards, into a cat-like (and familiar) grin. The smile was more than infectious—draining all of Tsukasa’s willpower to not smile alongside him. “Wonderful!” He clapped his hands together.

As the two of them walked back to the main stage, Kamishiro spoke. “Find a seat wherever you’d like. Of course, I’d say the best seat would be at the front, but ah—don’t sit on that one, that’s the one where I judge everyone…”

“My, how unfortunate, isn’t it?” mused the actor playing as the pharmacist. One of his arms crossed against his chest as the other held a tobacco pipe. His cold gaze pierced not only the protagonist, but also him. “I cannot just freely pass the treatment.”

The protagonist’s gaze darted from one corner to another. “Why not?” the other snapped. Agitation presented well onto his skin. “What makes the hundreds of people dying worth less than your money?”

It was an interesting play, Tsukasa had to give credit. Although, Kamishiro , interrupted every now and then. Asking to redo the scene, commenting on the actors’ acting—to which they effortlessly played out—yet the play went on smoothly.

Any mistakes were quickly corrected on the second run. As if the director uttering the words were something as simple as the alphabet—as if any changes that were requested were almost as if they had read the director’s mind.

Tsukasa’s smile faltered at the thought. The show must go on.

And once the final scene comes, the end of it wrapping the story in a lovely bow, the tailor couldn’t help but sit in his seat—a row away and a column to the left of the director. He tried to think of something, anything—but alas, he was left nothing to do but…

To ponder.

“How was the performance?” Tsukasa snapped his head towards the director, who was ascending the stairs, making his way towards him. “Or practise, rather.” He grinned.

“It was…” his words trailed off, lost on his tongue. It would be utterly distasteful of him to lie, but no appropriate descriptor was coming up into his head. “…It was pleasant.” He eventually settled on.

The director seemed shocked at this. Brows raising with his lips thinned to a line. One hand rested on his hip, while the other pressed close to his chin. “Is that all?” the other questioned, “Surely you must have something more to say.”

Tsukasa’s brows furrowed at the odd phrasing of the question, only stopping himself from frowning at the implications. “…It was immersive, of sorts.” Flimsy, he knew, but he’s running out of things to say—for he had an understanding of the plot, of who the characters were, but in truth, he was more distracted by the gnawing feeling in his chest that ate away at every moment the curtain opened.

“Ah, yes—” Kamishiro let out a quiet huff. “Immersive, of sorts,” he echoed, amusement on his lips. “What an interesting descriptor.”

Tsukasa threw him a smile, trying to hide his looming dread—what should he do if the director found out? Being given a chance to see the practice of an upcoming play, yet not having even a hair of attention stuck onto it. “For an interesting play,” he amended, hoping the other wouldn’t notice.

“I suppose,” the other awkwardly stated. There was no mistake—it was clear they’re only saying nonsense to each other’s deaf ears, perhaps wishing more from one another, being disappointed at being unable to meet their expectations. So Tsukasa stood up, gathering his belongings, attempting to conceal the rush in his moves.

“Will you come back?”

Tsukasa stilled at the question. Like an opponent who was swept off their feet, Tsukasa did not expect such a question to come from the other’s mouth.

He turned to the director, an almost-apologetic smile on his face. “What for?” he asked back. His gaze was set only on the director’s lips, watching the way it curled upwards with a hint of nervousness in them.

“For…” the director took a deep breath, almost hitching. “For…in case the clothes were to tear. So you could fix it.”

Baffled, is the only thing Tsukasa could think of if he were to describe his emotions. “In case the clothes were to tear?” he thought. He wished he could furrow his brows at the absurdity of the other’s statement—but is it that much of a surprise? It’s Kamishiro, after all. But regardless…

“You can call me any other day,” he pointed out, fist wrapped around his bag, patiently waiting to be picked up. “It’s my duty as the one who created these clothes to repair them in case they’re damaged. I’ll always go here if needed.”

The director sighed, a hint of pain in his gaze. Like he’s desperate—but for what? “But it’d be more convenient if you were already here than to wait for a few hours for your arrival—then practice would run along as smoothly as possible. Wouldn’t you think so?”

Of course, he silently sighed to himself. A well thought-out excuse for a silly yet unknown reason.  “I have other businesses to attend to—”

He doesn’t.

“—So forgive me, but I can’t always attend your shows,” Tsukasa settled with. Not wanting to put up with this nonsense any further.

The director stilled, finally realising the situation at hand. “Ah,” he murmured. “I see…” His face contorted into something ugly. Dismayed , the tailor thought. He looks dismayed.

Tsukasa eventually tore his gaze off from the director. He took the only bag he had brought with him and slung it over his shoulder, thankful for the lack of weight compared to when he first entered. Walking past Kamishiro, and ascending the stairs.

“…Will you at least let me escort you out?” the director offered. “It’s the least I can do, after you’ve troubled yourself with staying for longer than you needed.”

Tsukasa stopped in his ascent and turned back to look at the director. Only giving him a glance in fear of what he’ll do or say if he looked for too long. “…If you insist, Kamishiro.”

He watched as the director made his way towards him, and once they met, the two walked together back to the main lobby.

When they made it to the entrance, he heard the director sigh. A sound heavy to his ears.

Tsukasa doesn’t turn around. He does, however, stop in his tracks. Only so that he could think about something for a few moments.

His fist clenched and unclenched on the strap of his bag, as trepidation filled his bones. Is this what he truly wanted?

With a heavy heart, Tsukasa sighed out. “Will you come back?” he echoed the director’s words from earlier. He turned to the director, not meeting his gaze. He can’t bring himself to. “That’s…what you asked, right?”

Kamishiro doesn’t respond to him. He didn’t really expect one.

Tsukasa took in a few short breaths before he sighed out, walking away. “…I’ll see what I can do.”

And he doesn’t hear a response from the other, but he’s more than thankful for that.

The blooming pain in his chest would’ve likely stopped any word that dared to come out of his mouth.

Tsukasa doesn’t pay mind to the sound of his door closing shut. He walked to the balcony of his room, grabbing the curtains and pulling them closed. This—this moment, this day—is where he realised that frustration is a bitter taste on his tongue.

With a furrowed brow, he asked himself, What am I doing?

He’s worked off the past two years trying to fix his life—was he willing to start from the ground up again? Was he willing to undo all the progress he’s made?

He swore, he promised —No going back. The words he told himself once in his life…

What happened to it? What happened to moving forward and never batting an eye towards the life he ruined? What happened to tying loose ends and cutting off old promises?—

What was he doing?

He shouldn’t have accepted their offer. That day, inside his shop, when they asked for his help. To pick up where their former supplier left off—he should’ve walked away the moment they asked. He shouldn’t have answered their pleas for someone to help them when he was still inside the workroom—

He could’ve stayed inside. Work on whatever new outfit he was working for, but—no. He wasn’t satisfied, of course.

What was wrong with him?

He’s already established a life where he could survive. What was the point of rekindling an old and put out flame when the wick has already reached the bottom?

The blond trudged his way towards his bed, sitting down on it for a moment before letting gravity direct him to lie down. He buried his head into the pillows, wishing the fluffy cotton within it would eat him away.

What was he doing? He doesn’t have any hope for that unreachable dream anymore. He doesn’t. He swore he doesn’t—

He knows how futile it is now. He knows that such a dream was only a child’s play. A greedy and selfish dream that was set up to crumble the moment he reached too far. Set up to crumble the moment he moved too quickly, too selfishly—

It is a futile dream.

Yet here he is. His mind could only replay the words, “Will you come back?” and the words “I’ll see what I can do.” They are unforgiving and ruthless, taunting him of his mistake.

He shouldn’t have done that. He should’ve said “No” the first time the question came around, but he didn’t.

The frustration suffocated him. He wasn’t naïve, he refused to be. He’s better now. More honest, and more realistic now.

Every moment he wanted to pull away, the director would only choose to pull closer. Somehow, that man managed to trick him into not only watching the practice of their troupe when he was going to leave, but also convince him to return back when it was unnecessary.

He’s pulling closer and closer, but Tsukasa just wants to get away.

He wants to get away from Rui.

…And that’s exactly what he’s going to do.