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TSUKASA
I knock on Rui’s bathroom door. “Rui?” I call, “Nene said she was worried about you, so I came to check on you. Are you all right?”
There’s some shuffling on the other end, then the door explodes open, and Rui’s long arms are wrapping around me.
“Woah!”
It hits me again just how much taller he is than I am. He’s warm, too—he’s the type that you’d assume is cold but actually is very warm. His chest is especially warm, and also toned and firm. He’s the type whose muscle compacts closely on his body.
He’s also the type to hide things. From everyone, all the time. He’s got good fingers for stealing, and a lithe frame for hiding, and strong calves for running. He always annoys me when he steals and hides and runs. I just want to know that he’s okay. That’s surely not too much to ask. Not of my director, not of my friend. But is it too much to ask of Rui?
“Thank you,” Rui says. I sigh in relief, and pull my arms around his broad back. He smells like cedar and clean oil. He’s okay. Nene’s observational skills tend to be very good, though. Was he hiding because he wanted his party to be better?
“You sure it's enough?” I ask, frowning. This can’t be it. Can he really accept so little? I’ve done hardly anything for him, but he’s thanking me like I just gave him a ticket to the moon. “I can do more! We can still put on a birthday show for you, it's not too late!”
Rui squeezes tighter. I suck in a breath.
“This is perfect.”
His voice is so beautiful, and he sounds like he really means it.
I like the way Rui holds me. I like to be the strong one in hugs, the one who lets others cry on my shoulders. That’s the role of a future star, after all. But Rui’s embrace is different. He doesn’t ask for anything like that. Just for me to be here. And while I’m here, he isn’t running or hiding, so I can’t complain.
But I can’t help but wonder. How could me, simply being here, possibly be enough? I should be doing more. I can’t accept his praises so easily, having done so little.
I pull back and let our arms drop, and I flash him the grin I practice the most in the mirror. It feels a bit strange on my face though, like something else slipped into it.
“I hope you didn't doubt the party planning skills of a future star!” I insist, pounding a fist to my chest. “This was nothing special.”
Rui shakes his head. Then, his hand reaches forwards, and the backs of his knuckles graze against mine. It’s a feather-light touch, and suddenly I can’t catch my breath and my head feels dizzy. Did he just infect me with something?
Then, in response to my assertion, Rui whispers, “I disagree.”
I think my heart stops.
Then it’s back again, with more vigor than ever, and my entire body feels like it’s full of my heart. No organs or bones or muscles, just my pounding heart filling the sack inside my skin. My whole body fills with a sensation that’s growing less and less foreign and more and more frequent in me. Always around Rui. I don’t know how to describe it, something like fear. Yes, fear, fear for certain, but something else. I catch Rui’s amber eyes and that something else starts screaming at me.
But the fear doesn’t go away either. And I detest being afraid. I can’t think about that something else, whatever it could be, until I’m done being afraid. I don’t need to be afraid of Rui, not really. I pretend to be, I act like I have to be, but I’m not.
So then why does his gaze and the brush of his knuckles make me feel like I am?
I can’t stand this anymore, and I jump away, trying to breathe, trying to get the room to stop spinning and my heart to condense into my chest.
“Ha did it just get warmer all of a sudden?” I say. “I need to drink some juice!” Then I turn and walk calmly towards the kitchen.
On the way I nearly plow into Mrs. Kamishiro, holding a tray of snacks, and I apologize to her as I continue past her. Does she have any idea that her son is an alchemist? I wonder if it’s genetic. I wonder if she’s an alchemist too, and Rui’s father has had the same sensation of fear and something else screaming at him when she touches him.
I find the juice jug and pour some into a paper cup, then down the entire thing. It helps, but not as much as I thought it would. I drink more.
The inconsistency is still bothering my mind: how can me simply being there, doing nothing, ever possibly be enough?
And why does Rui—that something—make me feel like I am enough? Or at the very least, like...one day, I could be?
RUI
I take a few more deep breaths. It doesn’t feel real.
This feels like a dream I would have invented for myself when I was seven. Or sixteen. As for the years in between those ages, I was either actually having a birthday with a friend, or didn’t have the mental space for dreams.
I turn off the faucet and dry my face with a washcloth. I had hoped the cold water would shock my system into waking up. But since I haven’t woken up at all, either I am in a worryingly deep sleep, or I am lucid. I think I’d rather be dreaming; then at least I’d know what to do.
There’s a knock on the bathroom door, and I wait.
Then, it’s Tsukasa-kun’s voice, calling my name. He’s called my name many times before, and he’ll likely call my name many times again. But the way he says it now, so gently, has me disoriented all over again.
“Nene said she was worried about you,” Tsukasa-kun says, “so I came to check on you. Are you all right?”
This has to be a dream, right? If I’m dreaming, I can afford a bit of boldness.
I open the door. There he is, like the first light of dawn after a long, endless night. I step forward and hold him close.
He stiffens at first, which is when it at last hits me that I’m not dreaming. This is real. He planned a birthday party specifically for me, and invited two of our dearest friends to join. His standoffish behavior is proof that this is real life. The Tsukasa-kun of my dreams is...well, suffice to say I’ve spent too many nights imagining things that do not align with reality.
“Thank you,” I tell him. I want to tell him more, but I don’t think it’s necessary. I think those are the only words I need right now.
He relaxes into my embrace, and starts holding me back. But I feel his frown pressed into my shoulder. “You sure it's enough?” he asks. “I can do more! We can still put on a birthday show for you, it's not too late!”
I squeeze him tighter. He smells like bright citruses and musky sandalwood, like a sunny summer day. I try not to let my thoughts linger on the swell of his pectoral muscles.
I would, truly, love a show put on just for me. But I don’t need one. Honestly, I think my heart would collapse in on itself, and they’d have to take me to the ER. Although, I suppose staying in the hospital would not be the most miserable way I’ve spent a birthday.
With our cheeks pressed together, I tell him, “This is perfect.”
I wish I could say I did something to earn this. Him, being here, bringing friends with him. I wish I could say that I banished the gloom from my memories or the iciness from the walls surrounding my heart, and doing so was the catalyst that allowed me to meet him. But I didn’t do any work at all. He simply showed up one day, and then told me he needed me. Maybe that itself was the catalyst.
And now he’s planned something special for me simply because he cares, and he’s knocking outside the bathroom door simply because he’s concerned.
Having him here is the best present I could have asked for.
Tsukasa-kun then pulls back a bit with a large chuckle, and our arms fall. It’s a shame—I like stealing proximity with him. He smiles now, like he’s trying to put on his favorite confident smile, but there’s something sad and soft to the edges of his corners.
“I hope you didn't doubt the party planning skills of a future star! This was nothing special.”
How curious that he’s able to belittle his own achievements by bragging about them.
Briefly, I press my knuckles against his, and whisper, “I disagree.”
His face sinks to a deep red, and I have to hold myself back from laughing. He’s so adorable, simply being himself, that it hurts. I want to kiss him. But every time I try to close the distance between us, he puts more there. He backs up, he pulls away, he turns, he shrinks, he hides. And to think he boasts about how head-on he tackles his challenges.
Well, he does , with most of them. I can’t decide if it is an honor or an insult that I am an exception.
He squirms awkwardly like a fish floundering in a net, and the urge to kiss him resurfaces. Did it ever truly go away? Although, I suppose he would detest if his first kiss was somewhere so dull and unromantic as outside my family washroom. I think he’d prefer being under a blanket of stars. Perhaps one day, if he ever stops putting distance between us, I’ll kidnap him and take him to the countryside to see them.
“Ha did it just get warmer all of a sudden!?” Tsukasa-kun shouts, tugging at his collar. “I need to drink some juice!”
He turns, and then, nearly crashes into my mom.
All of my giddiness drains into mortification.
She saw that, didn’t she. All of it. I wish these floorboards were false so I could fall into them. Or there was a hidden doorway so I could slip into it, or an explosive device that would create a hole in the wall for me to escape.
But that wouldn’t erase her memory. And she has a very keen one, too.
“Mom.”
“I'm sorry honey!” she blurts immediately. “I didn't mean to eavesdrop or pry, I was–well, you see, I was trying to…not that I don't approve, I hope you know, all of it is perfectly natural! There's scores of instances and countless counts of it, and with data this overwhelming we know it must be a part of life, and our laws will catch up soon–”
“Cancer,” I warn, cutting her off. She laughs, as I’d hoped she would.
I don’t need to hear her telling me things like that. It would be an unnecessary scene in this play. I don’t need evidence or convincing, and I don’t care about what is natural or lawful. I’ve never given much care to such things, anyways.
And besides all that, I don’t need extra reassurance of her approval. I already knew she was going to support me in this, just as she supports me in everything. My ever dependable stage manager.
But still. I suppose there is merit in hearing it.
“But, um…” I begin, awkwardly, then find the words that I need:
“Thank you.”