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The ferris wheel comes to a sudden halt, the carriages swaying at the interruption. Most riders are looking around, confused. Rio, however, stares intently at the pod above him. Anzu and Kazuki are stopped at the wheel’s peak. He can see her head turn this way and that, their seat swinging dramatically in her panic. He grins because he can picture her:
Tangled carmine strands escaping its braid, eyes wide with realization that this must be all Rio’s doing, then an unromantic expression coupled with a deep voice—her flailing effort to keep the undeniably romantic atmosphere at bay.
Usually Anzu is successful, but this time it’s different; Kazuki has grown feelings for her and rather than allowing her to wave them away with her proverbial wand, he lifts a hand to brush a stray lock from her face. The action gives Anzu pause.
Rio cannot hear what they are saying but he can see. He can see their profiles, backlit by twinkling lights and vignetted by fireworks because of course there are fireworks, this was all part of Rio’s plan afterall. He sees Anzu’s hackles lowering, sees the way she stills under Kazuki’s hand.
Rio holds his breath at the quiet intimacy unfurling and grins to himself, eyes softening. This is what he wanted, isn’t it? He’ll win! Subject 01 will be a success!
(So why does his chest suddenly ache? Why does it feel as though Anzu’s hand is enclosed around his throat, squeezing, squeezing, so that he cannot breathe, cannot think—?)
“I saw what you did.”
Rio jerks in surprise, having forgotten entirely about the passenger sitting beside him. He laughs, tears his gaze from Anzu (the space between her and Kazuki has shrunk to nothing but a sliver of light and Rio tells himself this is exactly what he wanted—). “Huh, what did I do?” he asks with a tilt of his head.
Saki levels him with a look that Rio swears could cut glass, a look that threatens to pick apart the pathetic wall he has built around himself and lay it to rubble at his feet. “You pushed Anzu forward so she would end up sitting with Kazuki.”
Rio relaxes, fingers straying to the back of his head to relieve a nonexistent itch. “Oh, well yeah! I mean it’s kind of obvious, isn’t it?” he says, eyes wandering back to the redhead in question. “There’s something there.”
“There’s something there alright,” Saki mutters, gaze still trained on Rio. Her stare is knowing. Too knowing. “Why did you do that?” she prompts, leaning towards him as if to better read the truth plastered on his face. “When you clearly have feelings for—?“
Rio senses her stare and turns, giving the girl beside him his full attention. His smile is practiced and boyish when he leans over the metal bar that keeps them in their seats to peer down onto the platform below. “What was that?” he asks, their carriage swaying with his movement.
Saki tenses, hands finding the pitiful security rail that is supposed to keep her from falling to her doom. “Wha—Rio! That’s not funny!”
Rio laughs, swinging their seats even more, properly distracting Saki from her invasive questioning.
“Rio!”
“Oh come on, Saki! Fear is half the fun!”
When the ferris wheel jerks back into motion, Saki yelps, clinging onto Rio’s arm. Despite herself she is laughing, and their joy harmonizes, punctuated by the last vestiges of fireworks. She releases him only once they reach the base and the ride conductor comes over to free them from the carriage.
Rio offers her his hand to help her down and she takes it, giving it a squeeze as she leans forward.
For a moment, Rio thinks she will kiss him and freezes because this is not what he intended.
Instead, she whispers: “I know you love Anzu.”
Rio already knows this, it is more than truth; it is what makes up his entire being. What leaves him speechless is what Saki says next:
“And I think she loves you too.”
She retreats then, releases his hand, and turns to lead the way back to their waiting friends. Junta and Makoto already disembarked, waving them over. Rio shakes his head and trots after her, briefly glancing over his shoulder as the wheel rotates to bring Anzu and Kazuki back down to earth.
Of course Anzu loves him. It was her love and her tenacity that allowed him to stay. Of course Anzu loves him, like she loves all her friends. That is all Saki meant. That is all Saki could have meant. Right? Right. He faces forward, ready to ask their friends what they should do next—
“Rio!”
His smile is automatic when he turns, helpless to Anzu in every sense. He is greeted by her stomping towards him, hand fisting his shirt sleeve as she prepares to drag him away from their peers. “Anzu, wasn’t that fun~?”
“We’ll be right back,” Anzu tells their friends (belatedly, Rio clocks Junta’s utter dismay), maneuvering a safe distance from their group so as not to be overheard. She glowers at him, brows deeply furrowed in frustration.
“Wow Anzu, if you keep making that face you’ll get wrinkles!”
“What are you playing at?” she barks instead, giving his sleeve a vicious pull. And then her hands are at his shoulders, fingers like fire through the fabric of his shirt. “You did that on purpose, didn’t you!” Anzu accuses, shaking him. “I was supposed to go on that wheel with Saki and you used your little magic and made me sit with Kazuki, and then you stopped the ride at the top—are you even listening?”
Rio can only smile dumbly because she’s brilliant, isn’t she? Cheeks pink from exertion, eyes sharp and bright like polished steel, hair catching the breeze and twisting away from her ribbon. This is how he has known her and beheld her, and this is how she truly shines. Wild and untamed and so achingly beautiful.
“Rio!”
He snaps back from his thoughts, observes her in all her self righteous glory. Anzu shoots him a serrated glare and he thinks it could saw through flesh and bone, leaving his heart for her to loot if she so wished (as if she hasn’t already made off with it, unbeknownst or not).
“But I did it for you,” Rio says, all boyish charm, “so you could have that perfect romantic moment! And didn’t it work? It looked like you and Kazuki were getting pretty close~”
Anzu’s frown deepens. “You were watching?!” she groans, hands covering her face. She sighs, then peers at him through her fingers. What she sees gives her pause, eyes widening—
(Rio does his best to wipe away any trace of whatever it was in his expression that defused her ire.)
—as she lowers her hands. She beholds him as if finally realizing the missing key that would allow her to beat a game that has been puzzling her for weeks. Months.
He knows that look, it is one of devastating victory. Rio doubles down, smile impish and shallow. When he opens his mouth to disarm, Anzu strikes first:
“You didn’t even ask me,” she opens, arms folding across her chest, “who I’d like to have been stuck up there with.”
Now Rio is at a loss, mouth still agape from his stolen moment.
Anzu presses an accusatory finger against his chest. “You did that for me with absolutely no regard to what I actually want.”
He regains himself, blinking owlishly at the magnificence before him. She is a beacon, a person Rio now associates with home. And god, when did that happen? When he manages to speak his voice is a rasp, both raw and restrained in equal measure. “And what is it that you actually want, Anzu?”
“I want,” she begins, watching him for any tic that might give him away.
(Rio has never felt so exposed, doing his very best to maintain his air of nonchalance because he will never admit—cannot, refuses to—that perhaps he is in way over his head with this maddening young woman who managed to work her way under his skin and occupy a place in his previously nonexistent heart.)
“I want to win,” Anzu continues, “fair and square. And you’re cheating. You’re pushing one person more than the rest and,” here she puffs her cheeks, gesturing as if what she wants to say can be plucked from the air between them, “well, have you given up?”
Rio stares. He was doing his damnedest to win, pushing Anzu to choose a match. What could she possibly mean? “Have I given up—?” he echoes, bewildered.
“Aren’t you a potential suitor, too?” Anzu huffs at last.
(Saki’s voice: And I think she loves you, too.)
Rio blinks as the pieces fall into place. Slowly, a grin stretches across his lips.
“You’re a potential mate,” Anzu elaborates, “and you’re not even trying! I mean, don’t get me wrong, I still refuse to choose anyone.”
She’s rambling.
“Don’t think I’ve given up, Devil! It’s not like I…I want you to keep interfering in my life! I just—I—“
Oh, her face is so red.
“It’s just that…I mean,” she wavers, embarrassed and flustered and entirely reluctant to admit anything at all (but Rio does not care because she has already showed him her cards, hasn’t she?), “you not even trying is like playing on easy mode! It’s…offensive! What, you think I can’t handle it?”
Rio cannot contain his glee, his relief, the way her not-confession makes his heart soar. He stops her, taking her hands in his and, with impressive projection, announces:
“Of course I’ll ride the Tunnel of Love with you Anzu! What a great idea!”
Anzu’s expression is something between mortification and rage as she loudly objects, looking at their friends and yelling that was not what she suggested at all!
But Rio just laughs and waves farewell at their confused retinue. “Come on, it’ll be fun,” he cajoles, giving her a tug. Mentally, he braces himself against any of her possible violent reactions and is entirely unprepared for her fingers to slot through his, secure and resigned, as she follows after him.
When he glances over his shoulder, she is looking to the side, lips pursed, cheeks pink, hair wild and he thinks Oh, I am so in love with you.
Anzu’s gaze flickers to him and he swears he feels the axis-tilt of the world shift. Had he accidentally said the thought aloud—?
But she just scowls. “Well? Are we going or not? Let’s get this over with already, everyone’s waiting for us.”
Rio beams, brightens. “Oh Anzu, so eager to go on this ride with me! It just melts my heart~”
She rips her hand from his and storms off, heading towards the queue.
Rio watches after her, an inexplicable comet that has left everything in shambles in her wake. Blinding, beautiful, and perhaps one day,
his.
❦