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When Natsume had asked, he observed that being in love is supposed to be like this:
Mika says he feels butterflies. Always thinking about them, making up excuses to see them; Shu turns his nose up at it, as pearly pink as his hair.
Wataru says it's 'having someone who is what you aren't' – or to directly quote, “To suffer love; that’s a good epithet! I do suffer love indeed, to love thee against my will!”
His mommy says you can see a future with them.
Someone you can share a life with, who can accept you as you are, completely.
Natume doesn't think he feels any of that, exactly. If he made a quiz out of it, he thinks he'd fail – his answers would have been ‘I'm not suRE’ or ‘yes’, but–
That ever-so-dangerous word, ‘but’ …
Something changes between Natsume and Hokuto, after summer.
Natsume doesn't know what. Despite the turbulence, they had been somewhat friends enough and in the heat of it all – dated, well, in the grand scheme of things, for a moment.
It is okay to still like Hokuto.
At least, he thinks he does, even if his heart doesn't squish down to his toes the way Kanata says, but Natsume finds something in him that still wants to be close to him.
He wants to walk next to him – sometimes – until their footsteps fall in line with each other; and maybe, when their arms swing, they touch for a moment.
He wants Hokuto to smile when he sees him.
The magician wants to show a stalwart prince the way he sees things: light shimmering on dewy grass in the morning, the glitter of gems, the marked encyclopaedia on his desk. He wants to show him the first, lovely red leaves of autumn.
Natsume wants to be special, the most special there ever could be.
But – there’s that treacherous word again!
He doesn’t feel butterflies; the crimson string on his pinky tied in a bow is slack and likewise Hokuto’s is barren. He’s not even sure what Hokuto has that he doesn't, and if any of that makes them complementary or not, and he really doesn't daydream about any future regarding another person with himself...
He bites at the lie. There is someone, but he does not bare Hokuto’s figure.
His cards do not help, any vision he can muster remains stained in ink – this love does not fit into the life he is going to have.
“Do you think it was something I saID, Sora?”
On the other side of his phone screen, the view changes as Sora flops onto his bed.
“Huhu, Shisho~…” He giggles. “Sora thinks you’re worrying too much!”
“He wasn't like this befoRE, but after that daTE…” Natsume puts his chin on his desk and groans. “Was I being too muCH?”
Sora hums, rolling about – it’s no good when they’re separated like this, but it hasn’t killed Natsume to confide in him, yet … and well, at least, for this.
Sora’s honesty is a virtue and curse all at once.
“It’s a good thing!” Then, he sits up. “Shisho~ please listen to Sora…! Hihi, Sora really think you’re focusing too hard on what other people are thinking of you, instead of seeing your own feelings!”
Natsume turns the thought over in his head. Once, twice, to make sense of it.
If this is an equation Sora is giving him, it's not a solvable one.
“What does this have to do with Hok–...”
“Shisho~ needs to be honest! And not worry about what other people expect of him!”
Sometimes, Hokuto can barely look at him.
Other times he is as he always has been. And, now and then, he looks at him when he thinks he isn't watching; he has this look on his face he can't define.
Like when they were on the beach, their first real time together, as a pair with no interruptions. Their feet sucked into the sand, waves at their side and Natsume had burned the warm glow of the sunset lighting the curve of Hokuto's nose to his mind.
Natsume remains quietly thankful and scornful at himself that he did remember to tear his gaze from the sea long enough to catch that same expression on his face.
It feels like something he isn't supposed to see.
Soft, maybe. Tender. Almost smiling — not the kind of polite way, or the more genuine one he shows him, but the kind of smile from within.
“Hihi, Sora knows it didn't fully work out with him,” Sora says, eyes crinkling when his expression morphs into a wide smile, “but I think maybe Hockey-Mask-oniisan is starting to understand that whatever Shisho~ has is special, more special than any magic~! Maybe dating back then wasn't working because he didn't ask you out for himself, not because he doesn't like you.”
Natsume grumbles, knocking away one of his magical lexicons as if it would ease his frustration.
“But he doesn'T,” He whispers, just for the two of them.
He doesn't really get why Sora laughs.
“Natsume!”
Arms drop around his shoulders. A sharp, floral scent settles, something that just reminds him of the azaleas that used to grow near his house, and the spices mommy would use.
“Baru-kun.” He shoots back at the ever-so-familiar intrusion that he gets trapped in during his occasional classtime, keenly followed by none other than Makoto.
It's just after class, in the time that all students steal for themselves before they have to go study, or meet with their club or go to practice. Someone has opened a window.
It should be Autumn now, but Summer is still stubbornly clinging to the back of their necks and circling the school hallways. From outside voices drift in, friends calling out to each other, the bleary sounds of practice starting, the bustle of every person doing their own thing.
Every person goes about their ordinary lives.
“Ukki's going to the movies with me,” Subaru continues. He rests his chin on Natsume’s head, right on his tippy-toes. “You wanna come?”
He turns his head as best he can to shake Subaru off, to no avail. He pipes up again as quickly as he ran over, “Oh wait, Kunugi-sensei wanted you to do some suuuu~per important prep work, whilst you slept! Mhm, that’s what I remember!”
Natsume can feel his affirmed nod, as he remains nestled in his hair.
In return, he let out a hiss of air.
“How coincidental you just remembeRED.”
Out of the corner of his eye, he can see Makoto prop his chin on his hand, “I thought someone else was…”
“Nobody at all, Ukki! And Kunugi-sensei was going to give us all real horrible punishments if it wasn’t done, remember? You do remember, right? When he told us. Which is why Natsume has to stay put!”
“Mmm. Sure, Akehoshi-kun…” He looks terribly occupied, carefully shifting between looking at Natsume, the door, and Subaru in some sort of anticipation.
To his lack of surpise, that when two are here the rest follow - a familiar voice sounds by the door.
Yet, despite the expectation, his mind still stutters. Natsume doesn't hear the words, but his body turns, realigning itself. He doesn’t notice Subaru has released him from being leant on, he doesn't even notice until he hears his shoes squeak against the floor.
Hokuto and Mao are caught in a conversation.
Mao says something that makes Hokuto laugh, and Natsume thinks if he could catch the sound in a shell, he'd put it to his ear every day to listen to.
Natsume’s disposition must catch his eye. The laugh quiets when Hokuto looks at him; and in his mind Natsume wishes to wave – but his hands stay firm at his side.
Quick as a stray cat scampers off, Hokuto looks away.
“Looks like a kind of double assignment, two-person job. Y’know?” Subaru commentates, harmonised with Makoto’s content hum - they nod at each other in only a way a Manzai extraordinaire could deduce.
The duo proceeds to make a beeline to the flustered Mao to heckle him about their upcoming movie to watch, dragging him along in a maelstrom and away.
Natsume does not miss the way they look at Hokuto, fleeting touches on his shoulder, and yet his feet remain glued to the floor.
There is a faint buzz in the golden light streaming in, and Mao’s fading voice down the hallway carries a single sentence:
“Maybe, it’ll be a good different, though?”
Hokuto puts the last paper on the top of the stack, leaning back ever-so-slightly to stretch.
“Done.”
Natsume glances over in his chair, “It looks like you could have done that yourselF.”
“I could have.”
Without the ‘super important task’ - of which it wasn’t - to focus on, the question of feelings hangs between them. Natsume barely touched a page.
Not that Hokuto minds doing all the work today.
Speaking of himself, and the lazy crawl settling on his skin, Natsume breaks the proverbial ice settling between them.
“Can we taLK?” he asks, finally.
Hokuto takes the stack and puts it under one arm and stands, his expression unreadable. “Let's go outside.”
And so, they do.
The sun is just beginning to dip.
Not low enough for the sky to change, but just so the shadows pull long. Natsume strolls into the shadow of a tree, watching as his own disappears into it, stretching together.
Hokuto wanders away for a moment, but comes back out of nowhere, pressing a cold drink against his arm. Natsume uncharacteristically startles, turning to face him, and then suddenly realises he's right there.
Condensation beads along the cold soda can, the only thing separating Hokuto from touching him. He leans towards him - and if he wanted to, Natsume thinks he could lean back.
If he did it the right way, like how the sun hit the trees currently, his head could be on his shoulder.
“ThanKS. You didn’t have tO,” he mumbles again. When he cracks the drink open, the hiss of the tab and the coldness nearly makes him forget the moment, feeling the cobwebs of his mind recede into a bygone Summer. “...RefreshiNG.”
Hokuto hums.
They sit on the curb together.
There are far fewer students now in Yumenosaki – most have left or made themselves scarce, leaving them alone.
“What did you want to talk about?” It was Hokuto’s turn to prompt this discussion Natsume began.
“Mh…” After some of his drink, and a long pause with the skip of his heart. “I wanted to talk about uS, if you could suppose thAT.”
“About,” Hokuto clears his throat, hoping it won't be too awkward and that his voice remains firm. “Us… dating?”
Natsume nods once, and Hokuto continues on.
“I have done a lot of pondering, I’ve spoken to Akehoshi, Isara, Yuuki, Buchou – …Harukawa-kun.”
Natsume nods again before he finishes, and then his mouth opens when he processes the droned list of names.
“When did you speak tO Sora? WhY?”
“It wasn’t like that. It’s just because I know he’s close to you, and I understand him a bit better than Aoba-senpai, who is also far too busy for me to reach.”
Like a petulant child, Hokuto impatiently stomps at the curb with his foot. Everytime he raises his heel, Natsume can see the scuffs of prior frustration on his shoe.
“Harukawa-kun is wise, though perhaps most of what he said went over my head.” He frowns, soured at the admission. “That aside, he already saw right through me from the beginning. He asked me if I was really okay with it.”
“We don't have to do anything because someone says sO.” Natsume spits out hastily, and ironically.
He stomps faster. Hokuto looks away; he can't see his eyes anymore, but the tips of his ears burn bright red.
“It's not that. I think I just didn't understand what everyone was telling me and what I really… felt.”
It's not a flash of lightning,
Natsume thinks. This isn't a whirlwind romance. Or butterflies. Or some grand love.
It's just… him and Hokuto, figuring something out, meeting in the middle.
On that fateful day, he exposed his feelings to Natsume.
Natsume supposes, it is his moment to return the favour.
“Do you like mE?”
His forfeited courage turned his voice oh-so-small, the earnest nature of it all almost makes him wretch – and he is presented with a sight just for himself.
Hokuto buries his face in his hands.
A second later he peeks between his fingers.
It’s cute.
“...Yes,” he admits after a long moment. “But, I don't want to date, like we did. And everyone kept asking me if I like you, and I don't know how to say it's not really like that, but I also… do.”
Natsume can feel the flames of his heart licking his face, his cheeks probably match his hair.
Talking.
They're supposed to be talking.
Hokuto goes back to hiding in his hands, and suddenly, all of it makes Natsume laugh.
It bursts out of him. He laughs until his sides hurt; the sound of ringing bells and magic.
“Hokke-kun,” He addresses, finally, still feeling the urge to giggle welling in his throat.
“What?” He gapes at him, face growing stern. “I just confessed to you.”
“This timE, I wasn’t laughing at yOU.” He smiles and feels it in his whole chest. “I still like yOU, toO, you knoW.”
He can't explain why it's funny, so he doesn't; another secret to keep. It's just—not as complicated as everyone made it out to be.
Natsume made a place in his heart for the foolish, blunt and charmingly idiotic Hokuto. He held onto his wretched feelings, cupped them gently in his hands, and treasured them.
He wants to treasure this, too, this Hokuto who likes him.
“But we should be a couple, right? …That's how it works.”
It's this train of thought, Natsume realises, that is making Hokuto uncertain. That made them date in the first place.
The idea of how they should be.
“I like you,” Hokuto resumes, without room for interjection. “And you like me. So, then…”
“What do you meAN, ‘that's how it workS’? Why do we have to have a relationship like other peopLE? Do you find me ordinarY?” He clenches his hands into fists, struck with sudden clarity. Like when he’s looking for a spell, a lyric – the words suddenly make sense.
“Why does it have to be the same as the rest of thEM? It can't always just be people you knOW, and frienDS, and dearest lovERS.”
Hokuto is quiet.
When the dizzying excitement of a realisation settles a little, he looks over to him, and he stares back.
His eyes are shining like two little stars, ones that Natsume used to stare out from his window and make a wish on.
“You mean that?” His mouth betrays him with a wary and sweet smile. “...That’s just like you, Sakasaki. Always doing everything your own way.”
He moves finally, or maybe Natsume does, until their shoulders press together.
“You act like you’ve known me for just a daY. Or are you beyond surprISE?” He says, after a beat – knowing all too well that Hokuto only heard an agreement instead of his usual words that carve into your heart.
In the distance, over the school fences, two birds take flight together.
The sun is silver on the ends of their feathers.
This, he doesn't say.
I want to share this with you.
And yet, Hokuto does.
The velvet of his voice cuts through the glow between them, pointing out the quiet obvious between them. “Sakasaki, look.”
Natsume abides, just this once, and they sit together; and he can only think that maybe this is that particular ‘enough’ of love. That missing piece right under his nose, deeply settled in his chest.
He feels the fullness in his heart of existing in the presence of a person who demands nothing yet whose dreams are too big for the endless basin of the sky to hold.
To watch someone burn bright with ambitions that rival his own, a second sun to look upon.
The love now may not last, like his cards foretell - but Natsume thinks he can pocket this moment.
They watch the two birds, flying.