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The clock on the wall ticks quietly and perfectly like a metronome, dictating the pace of some unheard song. Momo wishes she could hear it; wishes she could become lost in its melody.
All she hears is the slow, labored breathing of her best friend in harmony with the machine pumping air through his lungs. Despite the ingenuity of the alien contraption sitting beside her, she has no interest in learning its inner workings right now. The only important thing is that it works. It’s keeping Okarun alive and breathing. It’s keeping his heart pumping until he wakes up.
If he wakes up…
Momo flinches at the thought. She can’t afford doubt like that right now, not when a literal planetary invasion could launch at any second. Every breath is precious, every second as heavy and valuable as gold. She should be preparing, training, strategizing––anything to help their chances in the coming battle.
But instead, Momo’s frozen to her spot. She’s been stuck here for…god knows how long honestly. The minutes could've stretched into hours, days or weeks. Honestly, she doesn’t care. All that does matter is the pained yet gentle rise of Okarun’s chest.
The world around her can end as long as he keeps breathing.
The clock is still ticking on the wall, its sound slowly crescendoing. Momo finds her irritation growing, as if it’s mocking her. Does each tick of the hand indicate seconds or hours? Are years slipping by as she sits here, staring at the still bloodied and beaten face of the person she cares so much about?
Her knees feel rooted to the ground as she kneels here for an eternity. Okarun continues breathing, but that’s all. Momo can feel herself aging as she remains perfectly still, trapped in this horrible, endless moment. She can’t look away.
Decades pass before there’s any change. Okarun takes a sudden deep, but shaky breath. Momo tenses, still unable to move anything. Her eyes are locked on the bandaged boy on the floor, his blankets still splattered with what she presumes is his blood. Even after all these years, it's still bright red.
The clock on the wall is screaming with every passing second.
Okarun’s breath reaches its climax. His eyes part just slightly and he turns his head towards Momo, who’s still rooted to her spot. A tiny flash of recognition lights up his expression and she swears he’s smiling despite the medical tubes pouring out of his mouth.
Then he exhales. It’s a deep, haunting rattle. His eyes flutter closed. The machine stops whirring.
The clock stops ticking. And her best friend dies.
Momo bolts upright in bed, a strangled cry caught in her throat. One hand is on her chest, tightly gripping the baggy fabric of her pajama shirt. She takes quick stock of her surroundings, confirming the familiarity of her own bedroom.
She’s halfway out of bed when her eyes catch a familiar sight on the floor. Okarun, with two bandages still taped to each side of his face, is sleeping soundly on her bedroom floor. Memories of the prior day come flooding in, reminding Momo of the bat-shit battle that took place between a few really screwed up teenagers and an entire invasion force.
Somehow, the kids came out on top. She and Granny had hosted a barbecue for everyone and life had more or less returned to normal. After the trip to the store for snacks, everyone had kinda gone their separate ways. By the time Momo had returned with Vamola and Okarun in tow, the only remnants of the celebration were the leftovers now in the fridge.
Vamola hesitated for a moment before Momo ushered her inside. The girl had practically died today after all; she deserved rest. Okarun had been the only one left outside with Momo, once again falling into his habit of avoiding eye contact.
“I should go–” he’d started to say, but was quickly cut off.
“Why don’t you stay?” Momo insisted, inspiring Okarun to look at her fully. There was still deep exhaustion carved into his features. He’d been comatose this morning, it was honestly a miracle he was still on his feet. Besides, he’d been so insistent on walking them home she partially assumed he wanted to be here anyway. “It’s almost morning. Just rest here for a few hours and go home when there’s daylight."
He must not have had the energy to resist. Okarun simply offered a small smile and let her grab his hand to lead him inside. Both Grannies were laying in front of the tv, watching some obscure show that only aired in the middle of the night.
“Okarun’s staying one more night.” Momo announced as she entered.
“Where’s he gonna sleep?” Seiko responded without looking back. “The other girlie has the guest bedroom.”
And that decided it. Okarun had fallen asleep on Momo’s floor within seconds of laying down. She hadn’t even had a chance to offer him the bed. The dude was just out.
Looking at him now, hours later, he hasn’t moved an inch. Is it natural for someone to not move in their sleep? Momo can’t remember a single night in her life where she hasn’t woken up in a position vastly different from the one she fell asleep in.
The girl pauses for a moment, letting the first weak rays of dawn illuminate her room. It’s still dark, but enough light allows her to see the steady rise and fall of Okarun’s chest. If she listens closely, she can hear him inhaling and exhaling evenly. Everything seems fine.
But her nightmare still pulses aggressively in her mind. Momo shivers as she remembers staring at a frighteningly similar scene just days ago, wondering when her best friend would return to her in the world of the living.
“You sure took your sweet ass time.” Momo vexes, speaking aloud on purpose to get some kind of reaction from the boy on her floor. She can’t take the stillness anymore.
But he doesn’t move. He doesn’t even twitch. Okarun is still impressively out.
“Lucky bastard.” Momo sighs.
She should let him sleep for as long as he needed, considering all they just went through. It would be smart for her to curl back in bed, too, so her body and mind could fully recuperate. She still feels as though she’d been hit by a train. The sleep she got had been far from restful and the exhaustion from the past week is weighing heavily on her shoulders.
She can’t recall ever being so stressed in her life. And that’s considering the fact that her life has been a circus with no ringleader for weeks now. But she’d somehow gotten used to dealing with all the bullshit. As long as she could see him at the end of the day, everything seemed fine.
But this past week…it has been nearly impossible getting up. Momo realizes now how grounding Okarun has been for her throughout everything that’s happened. Not having him around almost destroyed her. Not that she’ll ever tell him that.
He breathes in again, then out. Then in, then out.
Momo can hear the clock on her wall counting out each second as it passes. If she listens closely, she can almost hear the quiet whir of a box-like machine manually pumping air into the body of her best friend. He’s lying so still, covered up to his chest with the plain white sheet. His face is slack and bruised.
It’s all too familiar. Panic shoots up Momo’s spine. “Okarun!” The name is rolling off her lips at a considerable volume before she can stop it. The second it hits the air, Momo regrets trying to wake him up.
Except he doesn’t. Okarun continues laying perfectly still on his back, as if he hadn’t heard her at all. The regret she’d felt not even a second ago is replaced with tension and Momo feels like she can’t breathe. He’s not–he can’t be–
“Okarun?” Momo falls to her knees beside his sleeping form and whisper-shouts his name again. And again. And again.
She’s nearly about to grab his shoulders to shake him when Okarun blearily blinks himself awake. Slits of brown open and she watches his brain frantically try to guess the scene happening before it. He seems to process nothing more than the invasion of personal space and the face looming above him.
Okarun sits up as quickly as Momo had from her nightmare. He bashes his forehead into her nose and his arms flail wildly around as he steadies himself. He makes some half-hearted yelp and accidentally slaps her away in his sleepy frenzy.
“Ow!” Momo complains as she holds her nose, checking for blood. There isn’t any, but her face is throbbing from the impact. “What the hell, Okarun!?”
“Ayase-san? I’m sorry!” His voice is groggy and unaware. He blinks and squints at her, patting the ground around him for his glasses. His friend decides to help him and grabs them from her nightstand. Okarun quickly grabs and places them on his face. He seems ready to bolt, the edges of his pupils already morphing from brown to maroon. “What’s wrong!?”
Momo bites her lip. “Uh…nothing.”
All the momentum stops and Okarun lamely stares back at her, bags deep and pronounced under sagging eyes. He looks like a little kid, blinking heavily as he tries to stay awake. She feels bad, but the relief of seeing him moving has an immediate effect. It’s like someone’s injected muscle relaxers into her bloodstream.
Okarun looks confused. Then the familiar look of annoyance is back. “Nothing? Then why did you wake me up!?”
Momo half-turns away. “You–you were snoring. It was loud and annoying.”
Indignation sweeps across his face. “Are you serious?! You could’ve just dealt with it!”
“This is my room–”
“You’re the one who asked me to stay over! If you can’t handle my breathing, then don’t invite me in!”
Momo wrinkles her nose. She doesn’t know why her hands are moving, but she’s reaching forward and taking his glasses off his face again. “Fine! Go back to sleep! Suffocate on your snoring for all I care. So much for checking on you.”
She doesn’t mean it. She would never mean that.
Okarun fights her and tries to gently wrestle his glasses out of her grip. But she’s more awake and more coordinated. Momo gently shoves his squishy face away, making it hard for him to see or talk. The second he loses his vision, his efforts stop and he releases a resigned sigh.
“I’m sorry if my snoring woke you Ayase-san.” He rubs his bare eyes and looks so pathetic.
Momo matches his gloom and falls into a more relaxed sitting position beside him. “You didn’t, Okarun. You weren’t snoring.” She relents.
Just like that, the fire is back in his voice. “So then why––!?”
“You weren’t moving.” Momo admits quietly, taking the wind out of his sails. “I…had a dream. A bad one. And when I woke up you were just…laying there perfectly still. I kinda freaked, I guess.”
Her confession hangs in the air like an echo, the tone of her words matching the oppressive cloud of emotion in her room. The young daylight is just enough for her to see Okarun blinking back at her. He still looks bewildered and still slightly pissed, but then seems to realize the implications of what she’s saying.
His expression melts into one of sympathy, maybe even of guilt. He turns away, one hand coming up to the back of his neck. “I-I’m sorry, Ayase-san. I’m alive and I’m okay. I promise.”
Really, that’s all Momo needed to hear. Those few words have washed away her worry and she feels like she can breathe again. Her own exhaustion replaces the worry and she wants nothing more than to clamor back on her bed and pass out for the rest of the day.
Okarun is fine. He’s back with her, close enough for them to keep an eye on each other. They may be battered and bruised, but they won. It was more than enough for now.
Momo reaches out and gently punches her friend in the shoulder. “Well good. Make sure it stays that way.”
He grabs his shoulder like it actually hurts him but offers her a smile.
“But would it kill you to move around a little in your sleep? You looked like a damn corpse!” Momo’s still wound up from the residual panic and she can’t help but push his buttons. It feels familiar and comforting.
His eyes go wide again. “I can’t control what I do when I sleep – I’m asleep! ”
“Yeah, well–it’s creepy. I don’t know. Change it.”
Okarun splutters. “Not everyone choreographs an entire dance in their bed every night like you!”
Momo’s eyes flare. “What’s that supposed to mean?”
“You move way too much for a normal person. It’s like you’re a fish out of water.” Okarun winces the second he says it and tries to backtrack. “I–that came out wrong.”
Momo lunges again and squishes his face, pulling on his bruised cheeks. “What did you just call me?”
“N-no! I just meant––”
There’s a loud pounding on the doorframe. Granny’s tired face peers through the door’s opening and her voice seeps into the room. “Both of you shut your damn mouth holes! You’re waking the whole house.”
Momo immediately releases Okarun’s face. He rubs his cheek where she’d been pinching and they both harmonize out an apology.
Granny stares at them suspiciously, then must decide she doesn’t care enough. “Eh, whatever. Just go back to sleep. I’d better not see or hear either of you until the afternoon.” She casts one last glare at them and walks away from the door. Her footsteps recede to her bedroom.
Momo slumps back against her bed, her back leaning up against the side. She could definitely fall asleep if she tried, but part of her is worried she’ll just fall back into the same nightmare. A chill runs its way down her spine and despite her best friend sitting less than an arm’s length away, she feels alone. She sighs loudly and rests her head back.
“Ayase-san?” Okarun is whispering again, careful to not be too loud. “Are you okay?”
“Yeah.” Momo nods, but it's not reassuring. “I’m sorry for waking you up, Okarun. Go back to sleep. You need it.”
“So do you.” He responds just as quickly.
Momo shrugs. Truthfully, the last thing she wants to do is crawl back up into her cold bed. It’d be a lot more comfortable, but she can’t move from her spot. Just for today, she needed to be able to see him. It would help her sleep in the long run, aches and pains be damned.
There’s movement and Momo’s suddenly much more comfortable. Okarun has wiggled beside her, draping the sheet he’d been using over both of their shoulders. He deftly pulls another one off her bed and wrapped it over their legs, quickly cocooning them together.
His head drops to her shoulder, offering the perfectly positioned pillow for her, too. She’s very aware of the warmth of his still sleep-soaked body leaning up against her. Momo relaxes instantly and can feel her mind finally slowing down enough for her to feel tired again.
She can feel herself slipping fast. For the first time in days, she readily welcomes as much sleep as her body wants.
The stupid nerd tucked beside her may have not said anything yet about the note she’d left behind, but Okarun’s never been really great at using his words. He’s always relied more on his actions to convey just how deeply he cares for those around him. Momo’s barely conscious when her hand drops on his and their fingers tightly weave together out of instinct.
And for now, that’s enough of an answer.