Archive of Our Own

One morning, Mizuki slept in more than they should have. 

They had been drifting in and out of slumber for the past few hours with no intent to rise sooner than necessary. The sun began to rise at dawn, which usually meant it was time to get up and get ready.

Five more minutes can’t hurt, they thought, stupidly. Then Mizuki wrapped themself up in the blankets like a caterpillar ready for metamorphosis.

Of course, they ended up oversleeping. 

There was just enough time for Mizuki to throw on their middle school uniform, untangle their hair absentmindedly, brush their teeth in a rush, and run out the door with their bag.

That was the first time in a long time that Mizuki ignored the mirror in their room. It had always been an intimidating figure standing opposite their bed, ready to poison their thoughts. 

Though slowly, that one-time mistake shifted their life, as if the flap of a butterfly's wings from their head had created a hurricane in their heart.

It was refreshing to not look for once, they thought. So, the next day, they ignored the mirror. And the next day after that. Eventually, a day or two became a week, and a week, a month. 

More than a one-time mistake, that avoidance became a habit.

Eventually, the once-pristine mirror started to gather dust.

The stranger behind the frame unnerved them even then: Mizuki didn’t want to look at that person. But, like a particularly troublesome memory, they couldn’t get rid of the mirror. Instead, they covered it with a long cloth. 

Once, it had been nothing but pain. Then, it became a harmless figure, sitting like a ghost from the past.

Mizuki didn’t care for it anymore, so it became a nothing that rotted away in time with their hope.

The bathroom mirror stayed quiet: it had seen this a thousand times. It hadn’t a word to give.

I wish I could stay home every day, Mizuki thought once.

They were lying in their bed with a fever that day. Somehow, it still made them less sick than the silence on the rooftop that had dominated the space since they started sitting there.

Their mom made soup for them: it sat innocently on their desk, too hot for Mizuki to drink. An anime they turned on played in the background, but they only half-listened to the vague sounds of happy dialogue and cheerful background music.

I wish I could stay home every day, they thought again. It was a careless wish made by a child.

Of course, the world was pretty, even then. But there was much that Mizuki didn’t understand back then: endless wishes for things to change, but with little, fragile hopes that couldn’t last a moment in the real world.

No matter how often they put their desires and heart in reverse, it didn’t stop them from being considered strange for simply being themself.

Back then, to them, being a hermit was the dream.

I wish I could stay home every day, they thought, like a child sick of facing their troubles or a dreamer troubled by reality.

I wish I could stay home every day, Mizuki thought once. So that none of the pain will ever reach me.

The mirror in their room stays covered, but Mizuki whispers their secrets to the face of the stranger in the bathroom mirror when they can.

That face is ghastly: the dark circles, the puffy eyes, and the stupidly short hair stick in their brain like a haunting from a vengeful spirit. 

The worst thing is that they know just what to do: a cold compress, some concealer, and a bit of time could fix all those imperfections. But they just can’t do those simple tasks. After all, the slightest hint of care would stick out on an unworthy face like a boldly-colored pop font in a monochrome town.

Not that Mizuki doesn’t already stick out: the second a secret enters the world, it’s no longer a secret.

So, turning to the copycat that pretends to be their reflection, they tell the secrets nobody else will hear.

“It makes me sick when I see my body,” they whisper. Their voice sounds a bit higher at this volume. More pleasant to hear. “I’m not as pretty or cute as the girls.”

Of course, I’m not. Mizuki thinks. I’m not one of them.

With a deep sigh, they start speaking again.

“When I covered the mirror in my room, I thought it was like dressing it up,” they mumble. “To be cuter, because that person wasn’t… cute. He…” 

They gag on the word. It feels blatantly incorrect. It’s as wrong as looking in the mirror, speaking to that person whose mouth moves in time with theirs.

“ They’re just a phony.” They decide. That word is better.

The room is cold: the tile floor has gathered all of the frigidity of the outdoors. There’s no warmth or even a familiar glance from the person in the mirror, only a scathing glare set in dirty slate. Not a single ounce of comfort or familiarity.

You should be familiar with something, at least, their mind supplies.

After all, that reflection is yours.

Even the hermit must take a break from hiding.

That sentiment is meaningless without action, so once the weekend ends, they set out back to school: the world that would never accept them.

The wanderer’s heart stirs with the idea: today’s journey hasn’t even started yet, so there’s no reason to feel so bothered by the thought.

Their heart pounds regardless, insistently drumming against their ribcage.

Even the hermit must take a break from hiding, but they will only follow in their past footsteps.

The path toward homeroom makes Mizuki’s feet feel like they’re dragging along weights too heavy to move. Like they’re sinking into quicksand with each attempt to move forward.

Instead, they retreat to the usual spot: the lonely rooftop in the cool air with the cold metal fence.

Only then do they realize that something differs from the past few times.

There’s someone new sitting in their usual spot.

In a way, he’s just like Mizuki, looking stranger than their peers would allow. His hair is longer than most boys’, tied up slightly on the side. It’s a vivid shade of purple with two bright blue streaks. He doesn’t wear their school’s uniform jacket, instead opting for an untucked white blazer over a purple t-shirt with the uniform’s blue tie poorly done.

In contrast, Mizuki wears their uniform perfectly. The only sign of an anomaly is the rumors. They don’t dress or act as expected. They’re some sort of freak. They’re different.

But Mizuki looks for a bit too long, and when his yellow gaze meets their own, they know the boy is just the same as them: a freak who doesn’t care to be the same. An outcast cutting class to bask in the silence of the rooftop.

They almost expect him to speak first, but after a moment, he seems to resign himself: perhaps he had been hurt, too.

“Sorry,” Mizuki mumbles, though they’re not sure why. They’re not sorry: he’s looking at them like a stain. “I’m gonna go.”

The boy’s eyes widen. For a moment, they think, hopefully, that perhaps he’d speak.

But when the boy raises his arm, only half-prepared to follow his whim to call out to that person, they’re shutting the rooftop door behind them, escaping from the awkward atmosphere. 

Escaping from the familiar pain of rejection.

But the encounter doesn’t leave their thoughts for a while: it had become rare for someone to look at them like a human instead of some heartless circus attraction.

As the evening sets in, that boy doesn’t leave Mizuki’s thoughts, not even at night.

Over some time, things change a bit.

Kamishiro Rui is his name. They absentmindedly scribbled his name a few hundred times in their notebook during classes they attended, trying to imagine how his hands would write the letters. They write it a few times, trying cursive, trying it left-handed, in hiragana letters and complex kanji. Perhaps they just wanted to understand him a bit more. To comprehend why they could get along with nearly no one else but each other.

They run into each other on the rooftop; inexplicably, Rui keeps waiting for them. They never promise to meet on the rooftop, but when Mizuki asks, he says some strange, vague things and dodges their questions.

That guy and his obsession with shows… I bet he’s loving watching my life like it’s a comedic tragedy.

There’s not much to do on the rooftop at a school, especially not when they’re both supposed to be somewhere else entirely, but they manage. Rui scribbles down vague show ideas on notebook paper that he doesn’t show to Mizuki: in turn, they don’t ask about the pages and play dress-up games on their phone.

But once they leave the rooftop, the fragile bond between them dissipates.

They don’t speak in the hallways: Mizuki isn’t sure who’s avoiding the other and who contemplates speaking, only to push the idea out of their mind,

That friendship only exists as long as they sit on the rooftop: the second the door opens, they aren’t anything more than people from the same school.

But even in their silent bedroom, Mizuki thinks about him.

He’s tall when he stands, but sitting side by side on the rooftop, it feels like he’s lowering himself to a smaller height just to be able to speak to them.

Sometimes, they think they can see a hint of affection in his eyes. They imagine a hint of a smile beneath his words when he says, “Mizuki-kun.”

(They consider correcting him. But it seems to be his go-to honorific, so it doesn’t hurt as much as it should.)

Vaguely, they wonder if there’s some feeling that Rui harbors toward them. Maybe… something more than just friendship.

It’s an impossible thought, but anything is possible on the rooftop, right?

…Some things should stay impossible, Mizuki thinks. Because then, I’d start hoping for too much. We’re not even friends outside of those times…

That raises a new thought.

…What exactly is too much with Rui? What face would he make if I said something from the heart?

Another foolish thought.

Still, the idea stirs something in Mizuki’s heart. Whatever it is, they’re not sure what.

At the nearby high school, there’s a cultural festival. It feels a bit closer to a carnival with all the people playing impossible roles they aren’t meant for.

For some reason, the third years were invited– maybe to get a taste of what next year would be like.

Mizuki isn’t a third year yet, but Rui is. He invited them along, not giving a clear answer when they asked why. So now they’re standing by his side awkwardly, watching him pass out balloon animals to all the passersby. 

Like the high-schoolers, Rui is playing some impossible role. He’s acting almost like Mizuki’s overprotective boyfriend, albeit unconventionally.

He had only started making the balloon animals after noticing how much Mizuki didn’t like all the negative attention on the two of them. 

Love is about making sacrifices, Mizuki thinks as they watch Rui pump air into the long, thin balloon. It’s about giving up something you want so you can see someone else happy.

The bond between the two isn’t quite love, but as Rui bends the balloons into familiar shapes, Mizuki thinks they feel something like it.

Had it been anyone else, their peers would have appreciated the balloon animals. Maybe they would have given him a smile, some encouragement– something other than a confused frown.

Instead, he looks like a clown, offering gifts that can’t be more than a prank. They look like they’re waiting for the punchline to hit them as he holds out deceptive tidings.

With the way those people second-glance at Mizuki, it feels like they’re the punchline. Like those people are waiting for them to paint their messy face in vivid colors and pathetically honk their nose.

After the tenth rejection from one of his classmates, they feel obligated to walk up to him and pat his shoulder, trying to offer a bit of comfort.

“Told you we should have gone to the maid cafe,” Mizuki jokes, faking a small laugh after those words.

Rui smiles, but it’s a lonely look for his mouth while his eyes look so dejected.

“Yeah, you’re right.” He offers them a smile with brighter eyes. It almost looks a little genuine.

Mizuki offers him their hands: he’s kneeling beside a cotton candy stand, holding a few too many packs of balloons in his bag. Rui takes them, standing up. It’s a momentary touch, but it feels like his touch ignited something.

They pass by stands and tiny play venues, which Rui always stops to look at with a small smile.

“It’s a dream I shared with a childhood friend,” he says wistfully. “Yes, a proper answer today. Are you satisfied? Together, we had that dream… although I haven’t seen her recently…”

His eyes are so affectionate when he speaks about her. It makes Mizuki a little jealous; they’re not sure if it’s because they want to be like the girl he talks about in his eyes or if the jealousy is because they’re not a pretty girl at all.

Am I delusional for thinking that I’m not a boy? They wonder distantly. I can’t stand that thought.

Mizuki is as similar to Rui as they thought: both are performers, putting on a show and pretending to be someone they’re not.

“Hm… the maid cafe? Ohh, were you interested in the outfits, Mizuki-kun?” Rui teases. “Of course, attending these are popular with boys our age.”

Rui doesn’t know. He doesn’t know how wrong that word is, how their heart pangs at the very sound.

“Senpai, I…” Mizuki trails off. It’s not like Rui can’t possibly know, given how many rumors there are about Mizuki. The thought is comforting, strangely enough.

He looks at them carefully, like he knows what Mizuki will say. “Yes?”

The words catch in their throat, but they spit them out like poison. Rui must be pretending not to know: everyone knows the truth already, as much as Mizuki buries it beneath a face that isn’t theirs.

“Senpai… no, Rui… I don’t… think I’m a boy.”

It’s not a great time or place: they’re standing in the middle of the second-floor hallway in a school neither attends. People are hurrying through the halls, not caring about a word that the two of them share.

Rui looks surprised, but after a moment, he smiles.

“Mm. I see… I’m sorry for assuming.”

It’s a vague answer, but anything is better than a rejection, they think.

Soon enough, Mizuki finds themself preferring answers of that sort.

The rooftop friendship leaves the rooftop one day when Rui texts Mizuki an invitation to Phoenix Wonderland. The boy had mentioned that he liked sneaking in and telling stories to the children, only to get kicked out. It’s a sweet invitation, albeit one that worries Mizuki: is he not already banned?

Plus, two people who look like boys over the age of eight going to an amusement park together? Sounds more like a controversial date.

Rui texts them a single sentence when they raise their concerns.

“You gotta come, or else I’ll be sad! Don’t do this, Mizuki! o(〒﹏〒)o”

At least he finally dropped the “-kun,” they think gratefully. They were lucky that Rui understood.

So they go out on a Saturday morning dressed in a casual outfit that’s far too uncute for their liking with a bag to sling over their shoulder.

Well, Rui’s outfit isn’t cute either.

The colors don’t match, the fit is too loose in some places and overly tight in others, and worst of all, stripes never go with plaid. 

Who let him leave the house like this?!

It doesn’t quite match what he wants to do here, either. Mizuki feels like an accessory to his trouble-making as he pulls out a set of drones and starts telling a story, but they don’t mind. 

But they do mind how his outfit sways impossibly, like it’s alive and just waiting to jump out at them.

For a second, Mizuki thinks the fish design on his left shoe blinks at them.

They pull out their phone and draw a tiny outfit on their phone over a messy drawing of Rui. The messy sketch barely resembles him, only having the same long limbs and hair color. Yet, it’s still a cuter look than his current outfit.

Yeeshh. I didn’t think people had this bad of a dressing sense in real life.

Weirdly enough, it’s sort of charming. Rui looks like he got dressed in the dark, but he smiles anyway, telling a tale of a lonely alchemist with drones as adoring children watch them.

They don’t even look at Mizuki weirdly, which is always a happy thing.

Of course, it doesn’t stay that way for long. A security guard finds Rui, so he and Mizuki escape the amusement park before they get caught and banned from the establishment. They’re not much of a runner, but Rui runs like the wind, clearly used to escaping the amusement park.

Mizuki gasps and flops dramatically on the ground, face red, huffing and puffing.

I really need to exercise more, they think to themself, then turn on their side and curl up slightly.

Then they make eye contact with that goddamn fish on his shoe and groan.

“Give me your measurements,” Mizuki insists– after a day of having to look at that outfit, it’s necessary and deserved. “You need a cuter outfit if you keep performing like this.”

“Hehe. What a kind offer. I’ll text you my measurements~” Rui smiles like he can read Mizuki’s thoughts. Maybe he can.

To freak Rui out, Mizuki forces a mental image of them on an actual date into their head just to test the waters.

They don’t realize that they’re staring at him blankly. Rui’s face is faintly red, surprisingly.

At that, Mizuki only feels even more exasperated by his behavior.

Freaking Rui. I bet he knows just what I’m thinking of.

The universe must hate them.

Their own body makes them feel nauseous to a dangerous extent: they haven’t looked in the mirror for ages, aside from taking care of their face just to hide the sleepless nights and stress.

Then they chose to tell the wrong people about their identity, and now, almost nobody looks at them like a human.

And now, they have a stupid crush on Kamishiro Rui.

A crush on Kamishiro Rui.

This is so stupid. It’s Rui! He’s too tall, he keeps getting us in trouble, his sense of style is terrible, his eyes are overly deep, and he looks at me like I’m the prettiest thing to him… wait, this isn’t helping!

Mizuki wants to drown their heart beneath the tides. In the water, those feelings can sink away and be lost forever. They don’t even know if they’ll remember all of his strange and weirdly charming behaviors in a year, like how Rui twists his longer strands of hair in tiny circles when he’s bored or how he laughs in a slightly mischievous way when he’s writing a story or when his plans go as desired.

They almost visit a temple, desperate to make their thoughts leave through divine intervention. But if there’s a god, they most certainly don’t love Mizuki. 

Okay, I have a thing for Rui now.

Great. On top of nobody liking Mizuki aside from their family and Rui, they had to fall for their one friend at school.

My life is a joke. And yet again, I’m the freaking punchline.

Of course, it had to be Rui. Of all people, Rui.

Before my very eyes, my life is ending.

“Please come to the rooftop after school.”

Rui had texted that in the early morning. Usually, he doesn’t text until he thinks Mizuki is awake, but he had sent that message so early that they couldn’t help but wonder how late Rui had stayed up tinkering with his machines.

Couldn’t he have said a little more? Mizuki thinks desperately. My brain is so inundated with romance that I’ll start thinking he’s making a move.

That doesn’t make sense, though. Mizuki can call themself whatever gender they want and use whatever pronouns they want for themself. They can act girlish and wear cute clothes like they did when they were younger, but that doesn’t make them a girl. Not in the traditional sense, anyway.

The words that he said are so vague that they feel sickening. It could be a thousand different things, from an emphatic love confession to the discovery that he didn’t ever accept Mizuki’s identity. Most likely, it’s probably going to be some new experiment that nobody else cares to look at.

Only I can overthink this so much. I mean, it’s Rui. It’s probably not as deep as I think it will be… or maybe that’s just what I want to happen. Something more personal and authentic than a sugar-sweet friendship.

Now, if only they could bring themself to convey that thought to him. How Mizuki managed to tell him the truth about their identity and not have a complete breakdown was a mystery even to them. But they might be able to do that much if they managed to tell him their deepest secret.

Getting through the school day is difficult, knowing that something is coming. But they attend all their classes like a proper student instead of meeting with Rui earlier than specified.

Mizuki does their part in cleaning but sneaks off before it’s over. They’d already done their share, so their classmates probably wouldn’t even care if they jumped off the rooftop.

Then they climb up the stairs to the rooftop and sigh out a breath. Rui probably had another plan, right? It couldn’t be anything more: their relationship is still weak.

Oh. Mizuki realizes quickly upon their arrival. That is a LOT of drones.

There are countless small drones, flashing vivid colors and making minuscule whirring and beeping noises as they fly in unpredictable little circles.

“Ah, Mizuki!” Rui gives them a mischievous smile. “What do you think? Do you like this shade of pink?”

“It’s a nice, soft shade,” they offer. “Although, paired with that electric blue? Not cute. Either make the pink brighter or mute the blue.”

Rui fakes a sniffle. “How rude, Mizuki! I did my best to pick colors I thought you would like, and here you are, telling me it’s uncute!”

“What, are you just using me as feedback for your shows again?” Mizuki’s eyes narrow. Rui catches the movement and smiles a bit more genuinely. As if he’s apologizing.

“I already answered that– you’re no different from everyone else in that way. Anything can become a show.”

“You’ve also said that putting shows at the center of everything is one of your flaws,” Mizuki points out. “In some ways, you treat me more like a human than anyone else, but in that way, you’re slacking.” 

“That’s true,” Rui says simply and starts smiling again. “So, light blue… I’ll fix that up, fufu…”

“You don’t really pay attention to me at all,” Mizuki complains, mostly joking. In their heart, they vaguely wished he would pay them more attention.

Rui looks at them weirdly. “Yes, I do.”

As a response, they look at him skeptically as he tinkers with the light settings. “Prove it.”

He shrugs and turns off the drones slowly before speaking, tucking them back in his bag. “You play dress-up games when you’re bored but comfortable. If you’re uncomfortable, you touch the sides of your face before quickly pulling your hands away. Probably because you realize it’s bad for your skin.”

Okay, way to pull out the information I didn’t even know about myself.

“You’ve looked so much happier ever since I dropped the honorific from your name. When you look at Lolita-style fashion, your eyes light up. And you always hang around with me on this rooftop even after complaining about something.”

“Point taken,” Mizuki interrupts. But Rui just keeps talking.

“You talk about your sister so affectionately. You’re so honest about the things that bother you, at least with me. You’re always hesitant to step outside of what your classmates expect from you, but I always think you look so much better with a smile. When you’re being yourself unabashedly. And…”

He looks at them earnestly. Mizuki’s heart races.

Is this…?

“I love all of those things about you.”

…Damn it. Freaking Kamishiro Rui has a crush on me, too.

Rui smiles at them expectantly. But he doesn’t look like he needs an answer immediately– Rui just wants to know he was heard. That Mizuki listened.

Their heart pounds in their chest in the ensuing silence. They hadn’t heard it before, but now it’s loud and steady. Mizuki had thought they wouldn’t be nervous telling or hearing things from Rui anymore, but he makes them feel unsteady on their feet. Like they’re slightly floating or even blasting off toward cloud nine.

They swallow. Rui wants anything from them right now: they can afford to offer him that much, given how much he’s offered to Mizuki already.

“Really?” They manage.

“Really.” He answers.

He really makes them feel like a gushing middle-school girl. It’s the closest they’ve felt to being their true self in a while.

“I know I scold you about not answering things properly, but seriously, how am I supposed to respond to that sort of thing?” Mizuki laughs nervously. 

The worst thing is that they know. They know just what their heart wants, but it’s become far too familiar to shut that part of themself down. Mizuki isn’t meant to have such nice things– not in this world.

“I see. I apologize for putting you on the spot.”

He frowns slightly. It’s a look that he doesn’t usually have. Not with Mizuki, anyway.

Wait, Mizuki thinks. Why can’t we just be happy?

After all, they’re only two people sharing a happy bond created by their lack of other relationships. It’s paradoxical to consider giving that bond up because of what brought them together– the fact that they would be judged. One way or another, they would be judged: why give up that happiness just to experience the same consequences?

“Okay,” Mizuki says after a moment, lips feeling dry. “Sorry for freaking you out. I’ve… actually felt the same.”

At that, Rui’s eyes light up.

“Fufu. I know~!”

“Then why did you get so freaked out just now?” Mizuki looks at him skeptically.

“You keep denying yourself happiness just because you’re afraid of judgment. I only wanted to give you the chance to change.”

“It hurts to be alone, Rui,” Mizuki mumbles. “I just want to be…”

Rui gently takes their hand. “We can be lonely together.”

Mizuki smiles a bit before looking up at Rui. “That doesn’t make any sense.”

They laugh: for once, it’s genuine. Rui gives them a small smile in return.

It’s ridiculously incredible; even in a tiny safe space, they can be who they are.

Their relationship isn’t any different, really. 

They slapped a label on it and called it “dating,” but there are too many complicated terms, thoughts, and actions for Mizuki to feel different. They still feel like they’re hiding a dumb, impossible crush on freaking Kamishiro Rui, even though things have changed.

Of course, their relationship doesn’t change more than it should: they’re just dumb, bumbling middle schoolers who can’t even grasp the thought of holding hands. The only difference is that Rui tells Mizuki they’re pretty and sends countless links to websites and videos that remind him of them, like makeup tutorials, overpriced dress-up games, curry recipes, and tech maintenance videos… actually, that one might be for himself.

On their end, Mizuki adds a little personality to his contact name, from an acquaintance-level “Kamishiro Rui” and no picture to a cutesy, kaomoji-littered profile, including his birthday, pronouns, and a little “<3” in the notes. They even take a picture together where Rui is in the center, Mizuki leaning out far enough to crop everything but their eyes in the circular icon.

They hang out more outside of school, checking out various shops in the mall that neither buys anything from. Mizuki looks longingly at any adorable outfit but ultimately ignores that desire. Rui looks at anything vaguely mechanical but eventually claims he already has the same thing at home.

They chat over shared fries and Rui’s weird, carbonated candy at cafes, where Mizuki talks about their favorite animes and updates in their favorite dress-up games while Rui listens, giggling mysteriously or talking about the shows he watched.

Something that never came up was that Rui was a third year already. Their relationship, tied by the rooftop of their middle school, would soon lose an anchor point.

But that can’t be enough to cut their ties. They’re already together, after all.

One morning, Rui isn’t on the rooftop. Mizuki takes a clear umbrella from their bag and sits on the soaked cement, waiting for him to arrive.

Oh, wait, it’s raining. Of course, Rui isn’t here.

They go inside and sit at the top of the staircase to escape the pouring rain before wiping off their phone screen and checking their texts.

“There’s no shelter from the rain on the rooftop… (；￣Д￣)”

“How about the courtyard?”

Mizuki shrugs. It’s just the same but different: somehow different.

They text back a simple agreement and head to the courtyard. There’s a little spot near the doors with a short cover where Mizuki and Rui can sit. The school year is almost over, but at least for now, they can keep coming to see Rui every day.

When they arrive, Rui doesn’t smile.

Did he leave one of his gadgets in the rain? They wonder. He looks like a sopping wet cat.

“You’re making a funny face. Not even a happy one, just a sad one.” Mizuki comments, looking into his eyes.

“Yeah, I am,” Rui admits and smiles sadly. “Sorry.”

“Dude, why are you apologizing?” Mizuki teases. “Usually, you’d already be whining about whatever it is. Whatever it is, it’s nothing to be sorry for.”

“Ah, well… Mizuki, don’t you intend to go to Kamiyama for high school?”

Mizuki shrugs. “I mean, ‘go’ is a strong word since I keep skipping, but yeah, I’ll enroll there.”

“I’m not enrolling there.”

Mizuki blinks. “Uh, okay?”

Rui frowns more deeply. “Plus, I’m graduating soon. Even if I did go to Kamiyama, we couldn’t talk at school for at least another year.

Mizuki squints at him. “We couldn’t keep going out on weekends?”

“That’s-”

They huff, annoyed. “Just say whatever you need to say, Rui. I can handle it.”

Rui inhales deeply. “I don’t want to keep you in a relationship where we can barely see each other. Weekends would be the only time we would have time to see one another, and I couldn’t do that to you. We shouldn’t stay together if we’ll just get hurt.”

“...!”

Their throat feels cold. Maybe it’s a chill from the cool rain. Or perhaps their throat is slightly closing due to their panic.

“So you’re saying we should break up?” Mizuki utters. Rui nods once solemnly: he never looks this serious.

“But…” Mizuki struggles to find any words: yet again, freaking Kamishiro Rui makes them feel like exactly what they are: a bumbling middle-schooler. “Why couldn’t we just see each other during weekends?”

“Usually, I have no time on weekends to spend with friends. We’ve been going out whenever I can make time, but usually, I go see performances, fix up my devices… that sort of thing, yes?”

That comment pisses them off.

Mizuki laughs dryly. “You’re telling me you’re choosing shows over friends? Of course, you’d always pick them over anyone, wouldn’t you?”

Rui frowns. But he doesn’t say a thing because Mizuki has to be right– what a joke! And, as always, Mizuki is the fucking punchline.

“Well, good for you, Rui… no, Kamishiro-senpai. You’ll put on the best show in the world alone.” Mizuki doesn’t even know why they’re saying such things. Maybe just to ensure his heart matches theirs: broken, shattered into tiny fragments. They’ve had their fill of not fighting back and simply accepting everything.

“Good luck,” they mutter, just to feel like they hadn’t been a complete asshole. Then they open the door and let it slowly shut behind them.

They miss Rui’s guilty expression, fitting painfully with the pouring rain.

Graduation is a few days later. By the end of the school year, Rui’s contact had been transformed into an acquaintance-like contact. It was just like they were having that fragile rooftop friendship again. Except now, it’s not fragile: it’s broken apart entirely. If Mizuki had the heart to break the tie entirely, they would have blocked him, but instead, they stare at his contact, half-hoping there will be a new message.

I shouldn’t have lashed out. That was immature and undeserved… Mizuki thinks logically. On the other hand, Rui knew that Mizuki had been left behind a thousand times: it definitely didn’t help to get dumped by their first boyfriend like they hadn’t meant a thing to him in the end.

They were a fool to believe they could have a good, long-lasting relationship with anyone. Everyone leaves them.

I guess what Rui said back then makes sense. Being alone is really better sometimes. Because then, you can’t feel the pain of being left.

They don’t text. Neither does Rui. 

So this is really it. The bond is broken.

They can’t decide if it’s better this way or not. It had to be better than falling even harder for him, right?

Freaking Kamishiro Rui, Mizuki thinks against their will. I wish I had the chance to apologize to you .

The school break is over quickly. Mizuki returns to the same school, now a third-year student. Kamishiro Rui went to high school, somewhere where they would never see him again.

Good, they try to think. The awkwardness would have eaten me alive.

But in reality, they know their true feelings: everything is too quiet without him. The rooftop is a lonely, cold place.

I’ve got no one now, they think, reality settling in. Sis moved away. Rui went to high school. And I’m alone. And I’ve only just realized how much I had last year.

For the first time, they’re well and truly alone.

Sadly enough, their first action is to stare at Rui’s impersonal contact again. Their fingers hover over the keys, unsure if they should press them. But they craft a few sentences in their brain. They’re short but able to convey their intentions in a few words.

I’m sorry for what happened last time.

I’m sorry I didn’t realize why you broke up with me.

I’m sorry I hurt you. I knew you were hurting, too.

I’m sorry

I’m sorry

I’m sorry

…

Mizuki doesn’t type any of it. Instead, they scribble Kamishiro Rui’s name in their notebook again, in childish hiragana, in complex kanji characters, in hearts, or scratched over with a black pen. They write it a few hundred times before writing a single, lonely word next to the writing.

Sorry

They don’t make a move to text Rui. Mizuki never intends to tell him a thing.

But they never stop wishing.

One day, they find a song that touches their heart. Then, Mizuki finds a piece of art created for the song. From there, they made the song a music video with the art. 

That was how Mizuki ended up joining a strange group.

“Enanan, Amia, what do you think of this demo?” The composer, K, asks them, her voice as gentle as ever. Then, she sends an audio file over the platform’s messaging system. “Yuki approves. I want to know what you two think. Then we can keep working on it.”

Enanan, the group’s artist, doesn’t speak for a while, presumably listening to the demo. Mizuki follows, giving it a listen. As usual, it has that familiar sound that’s warm yet so incredibly painful. 

“Wow…” Enanan says after a bit. “It’s incredible!”

“Right?! As expected from K~!” Mizuki smiles a bit, letting some of their guard down. “Made me think of happy memories that became bitter later on, ahaha…”

K doesn’t speak for a moment.

Then, “Amia, if you don’t mind, can I ask what it made you think of?”

Honestly, Mizuki doesn’t really want to talk about him. But since K asked, they’d answer.

“Ahaha, well… there was a guy I knew. We were pretty good friends since we hung out a lot. We dated for a bit, but we broke up because he was a year ahead and didn’t want to be together if we couldn’t see each other.” Mizuki explains. It sounds a lot simpler this way. Like they didn’t break each other one last time before parting.

“Ah, okay…” K says simply.

“Have you spoken to him since? Losing a friend isn’t easy, especially not that way.” Yuki chimes in, her cheerful voice filling the silence.

“Nah, I was kinda rude the last time we spoke…” Mizuki admits.

Enanan finally says something, “So what? That’s a stupid reason to never speak to him again.”

“Ehh?! That’s perfectly reasonable!” Mizuki responds.

They can practically hear Enanan rolling her eyes. “If just that was enough to completely break your friendship, then maybe you weren’t such good friends.”

“I’ll have you know he always made time for me!”

“And what did you do for him?” 

Enanan raises a good point. What exactly did they do for him?

“Aaah… ahaha, well…” Mizuki starts. “I don’t know…”

“Amia,” K finally speaks again. “Thank you for telling me.”

“Hehe~ anything for K!” Mizuki chirps, grateful for the save. 

Thank goodness for K, really…

Enanan sighs. “Yeah. K, did you want to hear my thoughts too?”

“Mhm. Please.”

As Enanan speaks, Mizuki mutes themself and hums the demo idly. They glance at their phone as if Rui would suddenly text them. In that case, they had to prepare to deal with the feelings they tried to bury.

As usual, there’s nothing but old chats.

They shake their head. Of course, there’s nothing new: that tie had been cut ages ago.

But thinking about what Enanan said, maybe it was a stupid reason. Why couldn’t they hit send on all of their drafted messages? Why did they erase those words from the earth seconds after they had been strung together? It’s not like Rui wanted to break their bond entirely, right?

At the thought of Enanan, Mizuki realizes that they haven’t been listening the whole time she’s been talking. 

They focus again on paying attention to her words, hearing Enanan say, “I think what gave me that impression was the gentle sound in the pre-chorus.”

“Right? That sound is great! Of course, it’s K’s song…” Mizuki cuts in, trying to pretend they were listening.

“I’m glad you like it. Maybe this song can save someone…” K says gently.

“It would be nice if that happened,” Yuki speaks, her voice cheerful but her statement objective.

“I already know I have a bit more courage, too,” they declare to the group. Whether it’s from Enanan’s harsh reminder or K’s warm song pulling at their heartstrings, they don’t know. But they feel a bit more like something changed.

When K finally speaks again, she sounds a bit happier. “Then, what are we waiting for?”

Kamishiro Rui was a genius, after all.

He understood complex topics in seconds and made countless impressive gadgets, taking from human knowledge and using it in ways the average teenager couldn’t imagine. But being so full of abstract ideas came with a price: there’s a loneliness in having strange thoughts and even stranger actions, regardless of how impressive they may be.

When he said being alone had benefits, Mizuki couldn’t understand that thought. They didn’t comprehend how he could look so lonely and still smile for them every single day.

But now, they’re starting to get it.

Mizuki has gotten closer to what they’ve always wanted to be: a hermit. 

They stay home from school as much as possible or go out and enjoy themself on shopping trips. They let their hair grow past their chin and spend extra time fixing their skin with various well-reviewed products. They even became a regular at a Lolita fashion shop, making it their everyday attire.

Mizuki is alone, but they’ve finally become themself, too. There are benefits to being alone, after all.

A solitus utopia, Mizuki thinks. I’m having fun, Mizuki thinks. Thoughts aren’t always true, of course. 

Again, Kamishiro Rui was right: there are benefits to being alone. But loneliness isn’t purely happy, either.

Of course, Mizuki is a little closer to their ideal self: they’d taken the sheet off their mirror, finally able to look at their body without feeling nauseous. The frills on all of the cute clothing they’d started wearing covered up anything that used to bother them.

I look more like a girl now, they think with a smile. It’s so cute~! 

They glance over at their bag, which has fallen, spilling glittery pens and a few papers. Their school ID peeks out of the bag. It’s the first ID photo they’ve ever smiled for and the first where their hair is long enough to be tied up with a ribbon.

For the first time, they recognize it as themself.

ID… identity… that’s right, they think confidently. This is the person that I am now, and I won’t apologize for it anymore. It’s my ID.

One day, Mizuki goes to school. It’s uncommon enough that they actually attend, but rarer than that is eating lunch on the rooftop. An had invited them to have lunch with her, but they’d declined, wanting a moment to think about themself for once.

The rooftop entrance is similar, with a small flight of stairs and heavy double doors. They walk up the stairs slowly, scrolling through Nightcord chats and rereading Yuki’s lyrics again.

The teapot is leaking.

My footprints dissipate around the table,

With only one chair.

Don’t love that sound: there’s no echo.

Don’t play with me again.

Your destination is already gone.

The gathering has died

So set out the saucers

And smile for the guests.

Mizuki doesn’t know what to think, but they type out a positive reply anyway.

Geez, some intense stuff from Yuki again, Mizuki thinks. But they totally fit the composition~!

They’ve come to like that group. It’s fun. They don’t know a thing about each other.

They’re almost entirely lost in thought, standing on one stair without moving.

But then they hear it. Tiny whirring noises and the sound of fingers maneuvering a controller. A mischievous giggle. Sounds that had become too familiar, even if they’re just a little different now.

Despite everything, Mizuki smiles a bit.

Kamishiro Rui, you freaking…

There’s no way that they’re going to give this up. Not now.

Mizuki opens the door hesitantly and gives Kamishiro Rui a smile.