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June is rainy this year, making for a constant humidity that seems to spread even within the halls of Yumenosaki, clearly marked by the damp spots littering the otherwise pristine white of the summer uniform’s dress shirt. Kanata thrives in this weather, naturally, but even he seems to be affected by the invisible haze. Overall, there’s something dreamlike about the days passing them all by. Nothing feels particularly real.
After the results of the recent DreamFes, Wataru supposes he can’t blame anyone for feeling out of it. The order they’ve known so well was effortlessly shaken up, his personal sphere no exception to that, the memory of being covered in blood and vomit still crystal clear in his mind. Perhaps that’s why he feels relatively unbothered by the defeat. In the end, the bruised and battered victor had ended up in his arms, abandoned by his comrades as he coughed and retched and struggled to stay upright in spite of his own body failing him.
Pyrrhic victory is the term that comes to mind. While he can’t claim to know or understand all the details in play, he has to wonder if victory at such a steep price was worth it for Tenshouin Eichi, as well as whether what he gained might be living up to his expectations. Wataru had wanted to ask him, back in that hospital room, but he’d ended up not saying much at all.
The rain doesn’t let up throughout the day. If anything, it falls with enough force to keep Wataru’s attention drifting off constantly during classes. Not that he is usually a model student in terms of actually listening to lectures, but his daydreams are typically more on the abstract side, surrounded by leisurely brainstorming over new scripts for the club and thinking of what movie to watch when he gets home.
Not the social affairs within Yumenosaki.
What, exactly, leads him to linger before leaving once business with the drama club is sorted out for the day isn’t something he can actually think of an answer to. Perhaps he was hoping the rain might start to subside on some level of his subconscious. Then again, getting wet because he didn’t bring his umbrella this morning isn’t an idea that bothers him much. The grounds are quiet this late in the day, with most of the student body having already gone home, so there’s no sense of humiliation in walking around with nothing to protect himself from the elements.
Even so, he ends up standing in place nearby the building’s main exit, again listening to the rain strike against the windows. There’s something almost hypnotizing about the haphazard rhythm of nature, something that strikes a chord deep within his heart. He’s always been inclined toward finding these brands of beauty in the silence that comes with solitude.
“You seem to be deep in thought, Hibiki Wataru-kun… how unusual for a jester. Are you just fond of the rain, or have I caught you in a predicament?”
The voice alerts him to who it is well before he even begins to turn his head in its direction, surprise evident on his features. Tenshouin Eichi-kun. The origin of all these recent oddities. He must have come down the opposite hallway, and now he stands only a few steps away, with a bag on his shoulder and an umbrella in hand. It’s odd seeing him look so “normal” after what happened on the stage and having seen him pale as death in a hospital bed.
He decides not to call attention to those matters for now.
“I suppose most might consider it a predicament.”
“How unsightly.”
Eichi-kun extends his umbrella with a delicate smile as he walks up to the front door. His words lack any real bite. Or at least they seem to.
“In that case, I suppose it’s my turn to lend you a hand, Hibiki-kun,” he says. “Assuming you intend to accept the offer, that is. We are still enemies, after all, you and I.”
“How dashing a rescue! And for a troublesome oddball like myself, no less! I am once again surprised by Yumenosaki’s very own Emperor… hence why I wouldn’t dream of refusing this olive branch, Your Majesty.”
The umbrella, while not particularly small, doesn’t seem like it’ll be big enough to keep both of them dry, but he finds himself stepping close to accept the temporary shelter regardless, holding the door open for them both. The faint scent of tea leaves and roses instantly fills his nose in stark contrast to the sour, metallic stench of vomit and blood. Stuck outside the umbrella’s cover as soon as they exit, his shoulder gets wet, but Wataru finds he doesn’t mind.
It’s Eichi-kun who revives the conversation.
“To think an oddball like yourself would walk alongside me… things have certainly taken a strange turn as of late, haven’t they? All these peculiar occurrences one after another. It makes me wonder if this is only a dream I am having, while in reality I remain confined to a bed.” As he speaks, Eichi-kun’s gaze drifts off to somewhere far away. He doesn’t look him in the eye when he asks: “Do you think this is really all just a dream, Hibiki-kun?”
“I wonder! Let me refrain from passing judgment until I have more factors to consider… however, I think it could just as likely be my dream rather than yours. A dreamer isn’t aware that he is dreaming, after all. It could even be a case of two people having the same dream!”
“Very true. Perhaps we are both dreaming… I will await your judgment on this matter patiently. I’m sure Hibiki-kun’s conclusion will surprise me, whether this particular Hibiki-kun is a figment of my imagination saying only what I want to hear or not.”
They reach a big puddle, and on pure, sudden impulse, Wataru wastes no time ducking out from under the umbrella to splash around in the water like a little boy would, not one who turned sixteen four months ago. The rain hammering down on his head makes him feel newly invigorated, as if waking from a dream, his hair plastered against his skin and drops of water trailing down his spine.
Eichi-kun’s startled laughter echoes in his ears, and he twirls back around to face him, a grin easily taking form on his face. He notices from this angle that just as he had thought, Eichi-kun’s shoulder didn’t escape the rain, and the sight drives Wataru to deliberately whip the length of his hair in his direction, sending a fresh set of droplets flying at his enemy turned companion.
If this was a dream up until now, it seems reality differs little from imagination, if at all. Things are identical. His shoes, socks, and slacks are still soaked, fabric sticking to his body. Even his shirt has already started to go transparent, thin as the summer uniform is.
“This is no dream, Eichi-kun!” Without thinking, he moves to let his own hand cover Eichi-kun’s, leaving behind traces of water briefly warmed by his skin when he draws back. “If it were, could you or I truly feel the rain like this? I think not… ☆”
“… You certainly are as strange in person as they say, Hibiki-kun. I feel like I would never be bored watching you and your antics.” As he speaks, Eichi-kun lets the umbrella tip to partially hide his face for a moment. His tone of voice shifts to something a little lower. “Ah, but I don’t disagree.”
He leans forward to catch some of Wataru’s dripping hair between his index and middle finger, then wraps it around them.
“You make a good point, after all. I could never come up with a dream this interesting, so what I currently see must be reality.”
---
June is dry this year. The sunlight is so strong Rei will barely set foot outdoors, complaining loudly whenever any activities in class requires him to. Some days, he even refuses to exit his coffin at all. Par for the course as far as vampires go, Wataru supposes. Kanata, likewise, spends much of his time soaking in the fountain to stave off the heatwave they’ve been struck with. Again, it is par for the course— Kanata being a creature of the sea, and all that. The only one in this trio who seems to be given energy by the sunlight is Wataru himself. P.E. has been more than enough to leave him with a bit of a tan.
It’s only the three of them these days, two having left. From five to three oddballs, the transition hasn’t been the smoothest. Though with Wataru’s relocation to fine, the three oddballs are more like a ghost of something grander than an entity with actual power and influence. They’ve all gone their separate ways by now, and the units they belong to couldn’t be more different.
The end of an era, in other words. Now he’s seated across from Eichi at the garden terrace, with flowers surrounding them and an expensive tea set placed on the table. Rose bushes and rose tea, Eichi’s favorites. The steam rising from their cups seems out of place in the summer heat, yet all the same fitting of what the two of them are.
Eichi rests his head in his hands, and his eyes slowly close as he heaves a content sigh. He looks exceptionally peaceful during these moments, despite how evident the lack of color in his skin becomes when he is in the sunlight. It’s almost as if he is an apparition that might suddenly fade away at any given moment.
“I feel envious sometimes, you know. You’re so unrestrained compared to me, Wataru. Free.”
He isn’t free at all, Wataru thinks to himself with equal amounts of fascination and aversion making him feel overly aware of the dampness gathering at the nape of his neck in the heat. As a matter of fact, he was never free in the first place. Even now, after dedicating so much time and effort to an earnest attempt at withdrawing from everything, floating around in space and looking down upon the earth, he still longs for human contact. A sense of longing he lacks the courage to act on.
Freedom is indicated by apathy. As long as one feels any sort of emotion directed toward a specific thing or person, there is a bond of some sort present, an indication of interest, if nothing else. The fact that he didn’t slap Eichi’s extended hand away without a care is proof of that.
No, he really isn’t free at all.
With unusual care, he raises the cup to his lips and takes a sip. The warmth of it coupled with the high temperature persisting this late in the day makes for an odd sensation. Rather than anything sobering, the heat pooling in his stomach makes him feel vaguely intoxicated and bleary, with this sudden weight to his limbs.
He’s not sure if he dislikes the sensation or not.
“Why be envious of something I would gladly share? You need only give the word, Your Majesty, and this jester shall do your bidding with pride! ☆”
Eichi chuckles, letting his gaze drift to the side for a moment. The sound of it makes Wataru feel as if he could do anything Eichi might request, whether it’s going around the world in 80 days with the air balloon at the grounds back home, or something a little more mundane in nature.
“Really? You’re saying you’d steal me away, Wataru?”
“If His Majesty wills it, who am I to refuse…? This jester of yours would have no choice but to once again don the mask of a villain and wickedly abduct you from the throne!”
Eichi’s smile turns teasing.
“Be careful making promises like that. I might hold you to them, you know. ♪”
He immediately wants to respond by coolly saying he doesn’t mind being held to any such promises at all, but something makes it difficult to put that thought into words, so he presents Eichi with one of the roses he keeps on him for the standard fare of tricks instead.
Rather than red or white as usual: lavender, for “enchantment”. In western flower language, to be precise. One has to be a little international and varied to keep one’s audience on their toes, after all.
---
June is almost painfully normal this year. The weather doesn’t make for any sudden dips or peaks, and neither does Kanata or Rei’s behavior. It’s almost as if something invisible has finally fallen into place.
The stars, while not usually visible within the city’s lights, can be seen with much better clarity on the garden terrace when the skies aren’t covered in clouds. Lingering after hours when there are no new idol activities as fine or elaborate club projects has never been particularly high on Wataru’s list of priorities, but at the current point in time, Yumenosaki’s intricacies (both good and bad) don’t have much influence on either of them anymore. Graduation seems like it happened yesterday, the weight of the diploma in his hand feels like it’s still there, but what he’s holding right now is nothing like that.
Eichi’s smaller hand always fits so nicely in his own, after all. Sitting here, next to him, after having planned this little break-in feels as natural as breathing. Eichi’s head rests on his shoulder, his eyes closed and his breathing even. Doing nothing in particular every now and then isn’t so bad, even if that wasn’t the planned activity.
Wataru gives his hand a squeeze, accompanied by an exaggerated sigh.
“Well, well… Eichi, if you’ve gone and fallen asleep, I’ll have no choice but to carry you on the way out. What a troublesome partner in crime I’ve chosen for this heist…”
“Calling it a heist implies something was stolen, you know,” Eichi responds without opening his eyes, but he returns the squeeze.
“True! Let us consider this view at night as the target, yes? Since both our positions in regards to this school are different now, one could say we’ve stolen an invisible treasure from the current student body.”
He’s rewarded with a brief stint of subdued laughter, and the silence that follows is actually rather on the comfortable side. Relaxed, maybe. Doing nothing in particular like this is perhaps something that he should strive to do more often. There’s a difference between sitting around at home wasting time and simply experiencing the presence and warmth of someone else. Unpleasant thoughts have less room to eat away at you.
“I wonder…” Eichi begins, shifting to better let Wataru’s deliberately oversized blazer cover him. It isn’t cold outside, but it can get windy at this height. “… if anyone had told me I would one day be spending time together with you like this, whether I might have believed them.”
“The Emperor and an oddball, together! What a peculiar image indeed, when put like that. I suppose the typical response would be to say this improbable situation feels like a dream! Do you believe it might be one, Eichi? ☆”
“Maybe so… ah, but whose dream might it be, in that case? Yours or mine? Am I dreaming of you, or are you dreaming of me? Or are we both dreaming simultaneously?”
“Goodness! His Majesty certainly is full of questions today... What an awful lot of faith to put in the mental capabilities of a mere jester like myself. Or maybe you have an answer already formulated?”
“I do, in fact.”
There’s a response at the tip of his tongue, but Wataru holds it back just this once, because Eichi’s eyes open to reveal an almost mischievous look. That kind of look always means he’s about to be given an unparalleled stimulus of some sort.
“This is no dream, Wataru,” Eichi says slowly, reaching to grab him by the wrist and place his hand on his chest, expression turning soft. “If it were, could you or I truly feel the beat of my heart like this? I think not… ♪”
It takes a moment before Wataru makes the connection, and for once in his life, he is too stunned to muster up a reply.