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The evening glow of the sun painted the surroundings in possessing hues of orange. Shadows danced as the grass was gently swayed by the passing breeze. Mosaics of colours swam through the darkening sky, mixing shades of pinks and purples that merged beneath the clouds that floated on the magical colours. Glittering specks of dust twinkled as they were caught in the wind, flying up to the unknown. Almost prophetically, the particles drifted towards the lone tree in the distance. It’s shadow stretched far, meeting the points of Momota’s feet.
It was a grand Japanese maple. The leaves were still green in the early months of summer, and the clumps of foliage shot out and created an almost artful picture of a tree. The base of the tree wasn’t overly thick like a black pine, it was more thin with branches expanding its coverage. Beneath the tree, sitting by the unearthed roots was a small boy.
Momota’s face lit up at the sight. He would know those unruly purple locks anywhere.
As he stepped closer, he paused, taking a brief moment to appreciate the way the dusk sunlight danced across his face. His violet hair glowed with warmth as strands were illuminated golden in the rays. In the bleak lighting, Momota could see the way the others’ cheeks were flushed from the overly warm breeze, and how the lighting seemed to draw Momota’s attention to the others’ lips - parted and gently breathing in the evening air. A rare expression was worn on the other’s face. A gentle bliss, he looked calm, content, and relaxed, something that was wholly uncommon compared to his usual overblown nonsense.
As Momota stepped closer, the other noticed his presence and turned and looked up. He made a sour face, “Eugh, what’re you doing here? You’re ruining my depressing shounen protagonist moment, Momota-chan.” he stuck his tongue out and scoffed as Momota settled down beside him.
“Oh, fuck off. We do this every week Ouma.” he huffed and rolled his eyes, “I dunno how you haven’t run out of shit to talk every time I arrive,”
It was their weekly stargazing night. At some point in time, the two grew closer and ended up watching the stars with one another. Momota and Ouma used to have a rivalry of sorts, the two relentlessly harassed each other with varying insults and shenanigans. Ouma had a certain way with words and an unmatched talent for weaving truths and manipulating feelings. And at one point in time, it seemed his only goal was to create this pathetic image of Momota and drag his image to hell and back. It wasn’t like Momota was completely innocent however, while he was never one who had the mental strength to exploit people, (though he had pretty decent people-reading-skills, he could never read people as well as Ouma though), he still could pack a pretty decent punch (many of which Ouma received).
It was a windy night at that time. He and Ouma (as well as the rest of the class and Ouma), got into a squabble, and despite his usual bravado and seemingly unwavering unconcern for others, it appeared that was Ouma’s last straw. Momota found Ouma that night with a bedraggled, wild look in his eyes and a lightly packed, ragged backpack on his back - by the main gates of the school.
Everyone was already in their dorms sleeping, Momota had just finished his nightly training session with Harumaki and Saihara, but he couldn’t find a sense of relaxation, so he opted to take a walk. And that was when he found Ouma, standing, shivering in the cold air by the gate. One of his thin hands was wrapped around one of the bars of the grand entrance.
At the crunching of gravel under Momota's shoes, Ouma whirls around, wide-eyed. No words were said, for a heartbeat, the two were frozen staring at each other. It was when Momota took a step forward, Ouma let his hand fall from the iron. Momota paused. For some reason, for Momota, all the visual cues didn’t click until the other made that movement, he remembered the icy cold feeling that sank in his gut, the way his mouth fell open.
“Are you running away?”
His voice was hoarse, a mix of fatigue and roughness from the frigid air. Ouma stiffened once he spoke. For a moment, Momota saw his first glimpse of uncertainty on Ouma’s face. It was a curious expression, it felt wrong. Until then, Momota always thought of Ouma as this unshakeable, witty, bratty, fucking intelligent piece of shit, but seeing a face so human, was enough to shake this perception. But it was almost for a moment before Ouma’s face twisted in a sneer. “Oh nooo, I’m just taking a hike at…” he looked down at his wrist as though a watch was there, “...hm, one-am!” he beamed up at Momota.
While Momota would usually roll his eyes at this sort of thing, something about the look in Ouma’s eyes perturbed him, and he frowned. His eyes scanned over the other’s appearance. Ouma’s hair was messy, but not in the charming way he usually wore it. He wore black sweatpants, with an off-black hoodie (it was a murky purple hoodie, but it looked dark in the absence of light), which was wrong given what Momota had seen of Ouma’s extravagant fashion sense. And what looked worse of all was Ouma’s face. Despite the cheery grin stretching across his cheeks, it didn’t disguise the bags that hung heavy under his eyes, or the ominously red hue swelling around his eyes.
Momota frowned, “Are you okay, dude?” Momota didn’t like how Ouma looked. Though before, Ouma had some sort of maniacal meltdown, hurting the majority of their class (himself included) in the process, he couldn’t help but feel almost bad for the boy who now looked so small in front of him.
Ouma’s expression fell, as though it was an effort to keep the smile on his face. “Oh.” Ouma’s hand crept up to his backpack, his fingers tightly clenched the straps. “Nah, and that’s not a lie…” he frowned, something that looked wrong on his face. “...or is thaaaat a lie, hm?” the way he said it just sounded exhausting, and Momota had never been all that good at deciphering the other’s words, even he could tell that was a lie.
He frowned. It was a strange situation; somehow, Momota knew his usual words of encouragement would prove useless here. So instead, he stepped forward and grasped the other’s wrist, dragging him in the opposite direction from the gate.
At first, Ouma tried to pull back to no avail, “Wh- what the hell do you think you’re doing?!” he spat, pitifully skidding his feet across the gravel.
Momota kept his grip firm and continued dragging the boy across the schoolyard, (to which Ouma stop resisted and limply let himself be pulled against his will). Though Momota was still disturbed by what he saw in Ouma’s eyes, he flashed the other a wide grin, “We’re going star gazing! It’s a pretty clear night, so we should be able to see a ton of constellations!”
Momota looked back to Ouma, who had a deadpan expression on his face (internally he was relieved to see the prior face that was indisputably wrong gone). Ouma’s arm hung limply from Momota’s grip, but he was walking in pace with him so he wasn’t dragged. “Huh? I don’t remember making time in my very busy schedule for gross Momota-chan to stare at light spots in the sky like an idiot.” Momota just let out an exaggerated sigh and tugged a little harder on Ouma’s arm, to which the other involuntarily let out an “Eep!”
“Hey! Don’t diss the stars like that!” and then he turned back to Ouma with a more serious expression, “I dunno what the hell you were thinking of doing, you’re clearly not busy though…” he grinned at Ouma once again, “...so I’m taking you to see the stars!”
Ouma pulled a face, but for some reason decided to say no more.
And that was the first night the two sat under the tree, watching the stars. The first time, Momota got no answers from Ouma as to why he was at the gate with a tattered bag (though he had his assumptions, he didn’t budge). The two just sat in lapsed silence for a while, Momota pointing out arrays of constellations and Ouma. He pointed at the Southern Cross, the well know navigation shape used by many in the southern hemisphere, Ouma just laughed and called it an “Old-timey compass,” before asking “What came first, this cross star pattern or the Romans’ crucifixes?”, Momota didn’t know how to answer the last question, but for once, but found Ouma’s antics almost amusing.
Another night, Momota pointed out a few of the star signs. Ouma made brash comments about horoscopes, “Hmf, of course, you’re a fire sign, it’s already obvious with how stupidly hot-headed you are!”. Momota was never a believer in all the astrology bullshit, he was more of an astronomy guy himself (he loathed how the two were often confused for one another, he finds his interest far superior to the former), but the fact Ouma could either be an emotional water sign or an analytical air sign amused Momota. It fitted perfectly for the others’ character.
…if astrology was real.
In the present, Ouma turned to Momota with disdain. “Why do you have that gross look on your face?” he tapped a finger to his chin, “The whole ‘deep in thought’ look really doesn’t suit you, y’know ‘cause you’re an idiot.” Momota had long since given up fighting the ‘idiot’ comments from Ouma. On one hand, he sort of accepted it, Ouma wasn’t going to stop, so he was being the ‘bigger man’ but not rebutting it. But on the other hand, he learned a while back that Ouma doesn’t think he’s an idiot. Everyone is a different type of smart!, that was what he said.
Momota scoffed, broken from his train of thought. “Shut up,” he laid his back down against the grass, staring up at the vast sky above, “I was just thinking ‘bout the first time we did this, it’s crazy or something… I ‘unno…” he trailed off at the end, unable to describe exactly what he was thinking. It was just amazing to sit under a tree somewhere seemingly far beyond any worries and simply be alive - enjoying the days Momota and Ouma could watch the sunset.
Ouma flopped down on the grass beside him with a fwump! “Yeah, it’s a wild story, telling everyone my first date was a kidnapping!” Ouma snickered as Momota let out a loud sigh. Ouma drew his hand from the grass and traced shapes in the stars, “I found a new constellation for you, I think this one will be your favourite.”
In the corner of Momota’s eye, he saw a grin crawl across the other's face. “That might be a stretch Ouma, Lord– uh, grape candy, what’s-it’s-name was pretty good, he’ll be hard to beat.”
Ouma let out a louder sigh than the one Momota did prior, a heavy, utterly, disappointed sigh, “Silly Momota-chan, his name was ‘Lord Strawberry Candy’! And he rules his underlings of the ‘Berry Cosmos’,” he pointed to a random array of stars, “Besides this one’s tots’ cooler than a stupid jam king…”
“Right… my bad,” he grumbled, not in the mood to keep up this nonsense argument.
As Ouma rambled about the new constellation he found, Momota revelled in the serenity of it all. With the sun finally set over the horizon and the stars blanketing the mystic dark sky, they were at peace. He watched as Ouma’s fingers traced stars in the sky, Momota squinting to understand the lines and shape the other was trying to form, watching as Ouma drew forms with his pale hand illuminated by the moon’s cool light. Ouma’s voice grew snobby and bratty when exaggerating his story, and Momota heard his laugh echo in the night.
Their stupidly wide smiles were experiences between just the two of them in these moments. Away from eavesdropping ears, their words a secret between them lies and truths purposely stitched in and out of conversation. Away from any judging eyes, they could just be without any external forces dictating how they should act… who they should be. Just getting to relax and enjoy the moment, living in their reality, not even wondering if a night like this could be real - because it just was.
They just were.
Momota snickered at Ouma’s tale, “Uh, huh. Why don’t you give him a massive space sword? How’s he supposed to slay the…”
“Aliens. From Mars and they prey on people with bad self-esteem because it makes them feel better about themselves,” Ouma added as Momota slipped up,
A snort escaped his nose from Ouma’s matter-of-fact tone. “Yeah… how’s Luminary meant to kill the aliens if he doesn’t have a cool sword?! All heroes get a cool-ass weapon to fight the bad guys!” he insisted, adding along to the insane fantasy Ouma laid the foundation to.
Ouma twisted his lips, and listlessly gazed at the stars above, thoughtfully pondering Momota’s question. Momota was entranced by the way the galaxies swirled in Ouma’s eyes, the purple glittering with stars and beautifully reflecting the way the night twinkled. Colours rippled in hues, intoxicating hues of purple and blue swam in the violet irises, darting around as the other moves his eyes to study the stars. Ouma blinked. “Hmm… I suppose he could have a sword… that might be overkill though…” he frowned.
“Huh? Why?”
Ouma gave him a look that was deeply unimpressed, “Duh, the guy has huge pecks! If he had a sword too, nothing could stop him!” he gasped.
Momota squinted up at the stars, staring at ‘Luminary’ among their light. “But swords are cool.” he protested (albeit a bit childishly, he admits).
Ouma kicked his legs and rolled over to face Momota, insistently poking him in the arm, “Double but! He’d be one of those lame OP guys from RPGs! The guy that nobody likes playing with because he’s too strong, he’s boring!” he peeked up over Momota’s chest and stared at him in the eyes, “It’s no fun playing a game on easy mode, that’s just for losers.” he said before a devilish grin slid onto his face. “I bet Momota-chan plays games on easy mode because he’s a brutish fool who just like one-shotting all his enemies rather than enjoying the gameplay like a normal person.”
Momota shoved Ouma off and sat up, indignantly looking away from Ouma (because he was absolutely correct), “N- not true! People should stop adding in dumbass plotlines and stick to the stupid script! Stupid sidequests are stupid, and they make me watch stupid cutscenes rather than let me actually play the game properly! It’s not fair!”
Ouma snickered, “You just said ‘stupid’ like five times, you’re stupid.”
As another pointless argument between the two filled the night, time seemed to slow, but it felt so fast in the moment. Maybe elsewhere, in another life, another timeline, they would be sitting under a similar tree, under different stars, but still just able to enjoy each other’s company. In all the universes out there, Momota hopes that in every single one, he and Ouma can enjoy nights like these. They could stargaze all night, free from worry, from fear. Momota’s palm rested on the grass. The thin needles softly pricked his skin. It made him feel alive. It made him feel whole. Being able to live like this.
If only.