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Tsukasa and Rui are at the Wonder Stage, which is not at all an atypical situation for them to find themselves in. It's evening, it's their turn to clean up after practice, and Tsukasa is wrapping up the last of their props when Rui turns to him, a glint of something mischievous in his eyes. 

“Tsukasa, would you like to go on some of the rides with me? I don't really care to go home just yet.” His voice is soft and melodic. Tsukasa is certain that his tone is a tactic to disarm him.

“Rui.” He tries to sound stern, and thinks he succeeds well enough. “It's already late, and I know full well that we both have upcoming exams! We both have to go home to study.” He shuts the door on the Wonder Stage utility closet for emphasis. He turns around to see Rui immediately in front of him. He almost jumps out of his skin, and Rui laughs. The interaction is familiar, and their proximity makes Tsukasa feel a bit fuzzy around the edges of his mind— he makes a valiant attempt to stay annoyed. 

“Do we really?” Rui tilts his head to the side. Tsukasa pokes his forehead, forcing him to take a couple steps back. Tsukasa then turns to walk down the hall, Rui following close behind him and yammering the whole time. “I can help you cram tomorrow, if that helps. Or even the morning of! Pleaseeee, Tsukasa? The park is so beautiful at night.” 

“It is.” Tsukasa says, because he truly does agree. Something about the energy changes once the sun starts to set. If PxL during the day is magical, then the park at night is enchanting. The air is tinged with something bittersweet and nostalgic, the sort of feeling that makes you want to make the most of your youth— to lose yourself to the night and the stars just to stay a little bit longer. To experience that with Rui…

“I know it's sudden, and if you truly want to go home I'll stop harassing you. But we so rarely take advantage of our workplace for all of its benefits.” To experience that with Rui while knowing that they had responsibilities they were shirking, truly living out the Hollywood standard of youth— somehow it felt dangerous. The thrill of the idea alone had his heart going faster. 

“You always rope me into your antics.” Tsukasa says, but now he's turned to face Rui. He's leaning with his shoulder against the wall, his arms crossed and a vaguely sinister smile still firmly on his face. 

“I would like you to consider that I really do just like hanging out with you.” He says, like that isn't an admission that sends Tsukasa reeling— though on any second thought it really shouldn't have, considering it's very obvious and it's very much mutual. “It also helps that you always let yourself get roped along.” Tsukasa sighs.

“Fine. I'm in.” Rui's eyes light up at that— it's such a subtle change in his face but it feels endlessly valuable. Tsukasa almost catches himself thinking that this was all worth it, to be on the receiving end of that expression alone. 

“I knew you would be eventually, but somehow I'm still so happy.” Rui pushes himself up off the wall now, his steps taking on a giddy sort of rhythm as he walks backwards towards the park, facing Tsukasa. It's not charming, really. At least it shouldn't be. 

“You're a menace, Rui.” Tsukasa says. The setting sun is just ahead, and Rui is framed by its light. He's still wearing his show costume save for the coat, he has oil stains on his arms, and his hair is a mess from practice. Tsukasa thinks he's beautiful, because he is. 

“Thank you!” Rui nudges Tsukasa's shoulder as he falls into step beside him. “Where should we go first?”

Despite Tsukasa's initial reluctance, he quickly finds himself being roped into the magic of the park at twilight. They fulfill most of the required stops. Rui insists on the carousel, the keeper of the ride looks at the two teenage boys firmly outside of the riders target demographic a bit strangely, but Tsukasa finds a pegasus amongst the generic horses and quickly forgets about it. Rui rambles about the simple charm behind the mechanics of the ride while sitting sideways in the saddle of the regular horse next to Tsukasa. He listens intently, like he always does when Rui finds it in him to talk for long stretches of time uninterrupted. Rui apologizes repeatedly afterwards, and Tsukasa wants to shake him until he stops.

They buy terrible theme park food at discounted prices when they get recognized by the other employees. Tsukasa drags Rui to the teacups, and in a truly stunning display of spinning prowess he sends them rocketing along at twice the speed of anyone else until they're both dizzy, incoherent, and leaning on each other for support by the end of it. 

Rui insists that they have to do the roller coaster, and Tsukasa is conflicted. He's not typically a fan, he's found— not they're scary, more that he prefers to have a sense of control over things, and roller coasters fundamentally stand in opposition to that by design. Rui says that's the best part about them, his eyes bright. Tsukasa absolutely does not understand, but somehow he finds the desire to try welling up in his chest. 

The line is short, on account of it being a weekday night. It's not long before they're being seated in the cart, Rui dragging them over to the spot at the very front of it. Tsukasa draws some level of confidence because he's there, and a supplementary wish to impress him. Tsukasa is restless the whole time the coaster works its way up to the first big drop. He figures that something could be said for their unmatched ability to build anticipation. Rui is talking about how he wanted to learn how to build roller coasters when he was little, and the image of it is so in character that Tsukasa loosens up enough to laugh. 

And then they're on the precipice of the drop. Tsukasa becomes acquainted with what it's like to exist above the rest of the world, for just a moment— he can see the rest of the park and the world beyond it stretching out before him, he can look up and now that the stars are so much closer than they ever were before. He can look to his side and find Rui, looking at him with so much wonder in his eyes. Tsukasa almost blushes under the attention, but then Rui's smile grows wider and all at once he grabs Tsukasa's hand, pulls their arms into the air, and they go plummeting back down to earth. Tsukasa is screaming, and Rui's laughing maniacally, no holds barred, the way Tsukasa's only ever seen him laugh while seeing one of his ideas play out the way he envisioned it on stage. By the end of it, Tsukasa doesn't like roller coasters any better. But he thinks he understands why Rui does. And to see that smile still on his face even after they come back down— Tsukasa doesn't think that he'll hesitate if Rui asks him to go on one again.

They make a final stop to where they started their very first night show, about twenty minutes before the rides shut off for the night. The memories are distant enough to be nostalgic by this point, so they reminisce about it. Pulling that off was— there was no other high quite like it for him just yet. It was the first time that he really began to understand that they had the power to change things— to not just delight people but truly move them. And that meant he was light-years closer to his dream then he had been before. He remembers rising from his bow among the roaring crowd and seeing the relief on Rui’s face. Rui faced the brunt of the logistics— there were things he pulled off that Tsukasa hadn't even known he was planning on. All to ensure that every step of the way, the whole park and all of its cast were able to shine as bright as they did. He admires Rui for that, and he doesn't think that he'll ever stop. He hasn't ever met anyone with that same drive before, that same delicate precision, the same care. He can't imagine he could happily work with a director that doesn't share that anymore. He looks over at Rui, who is seemingly caught up in musings of his own. Until Tsukasa follows his gaze to the ferris wheel.

“Wh— Rui! We won't be able to make it in time for that!” Rui looks at him with heavy determination set in his expression. 

“Not if we keep standing around. Come on Tsukasa, we have to run!” Rui takes off, laughing like a child as he does. 

“Rui!” Tsukasa shouts after him, but is fast to give chase. He doesn't think he'll admit it, but somehow he desperately wanted to go as well. 

They end up making it on time for the last round trip of the wheel before it closes for the night. Tsukasa all but jumps at Rui in celebration. Maybe Emu is rubbing off on him more than he realizes. 

The slow ascent of the ferris wheel is entirely different to the roller coaster, and Tsukasa thinks being in an enclosed space is probably the reason for it. They're not talking for once, but the comfortable silence feels fulfilling. He looks at Rui, who's across from him staring out at the park as they slowly leave it for the sky, and thinks that they're so much more unguarded tonight then they usually are. It's a mystifying feeling. He wants it to last, wants to be even closer to him somehow. 

And then when they're almost at the very top, the closing fireworks show starts. Rui gasps, and scoots right up against the glass so that his forehead is practically pressed to it. Tsukasa can count on one hand how often he's seen the fireworks show, despite working here. But he struggles to tear his eyes away from Rui, from the way the reflections of them bloom in his eyes. Their knees are touching. It almost feels like too much. He imagines Rui with a pyrotechnics budget. The thought is horrifying, but he wants to be there to see it. He wants to be a part of all of Rui's antics. But that somehow doesn't feel like enough. He looks at Rui, for everything that he is, sees their separate paths laid out clearly in front of them, and Tsukasa does not want to part. He wants to reach out, he wants to close the distance, he wants— 

What is it that he wants?

They part ways from the night, promising to see each other tomorrow before he finds out. On his walk home, Tsukasa feels Rui's absence. And it aches.

The world as a concept is almost too much for Tsukasa to fathom sometimes, but he wants to have it nonetheless. He can't put it into words exactly. A generous interpretation of his intention says that he simply wants to bring joy to as many people as possible. 

It isn't a lie, but it doesn’t feel like enough of an explanation. 

If he digs deeper, he can imagine it comes as a form of compensation for the attention he was denied as a child. He could also see it being born from ego. Perhaps the most convincing notion is that it's a goal you could spend a whole lifetime chasing, and Tsukasa struggles to define himself if it isn't alongside some sort of grand ambition. But that would make all of this seem futile. And it issn't. Not to him.

Rui also wants the world. Tsukasa knew he did from the moment he met him, witnessed his parallel ambition written through the core of all his work. He tries to imagine what Rui's reason for that desire would be. He doesn't imagine he could explain it either.

But they didn't need the words for it to understand it when they saw it in each other. 

Looking into Rui's eyes he’s seen. And that makes him feel like he wasn't reaching too far. 

If it isn't his lone delusion, if he isn't an island, if he could fulfill it in a way that mattered— 

Where it came from stops mattering. Wanting the world doesn't make him a fool, he doesn't need to be fixed. And despite what the very same world they want has told both of them, neither does Rui.

Tsukasa knows that someday they both will have it. When he stands on the same stage as Rui, it feels so much closer.

Rui Kamishiro does not have a time that he’s expected home, and he’s currently quite grateful for that, because they need to come to a conclusion on this tonight. It’s after hours at the Wonder Stage, the sky is almost entirely dark purple save for the orange twilight peaking past the horizon before it’s set to disappear for the night. Emu had curfew, and Nene had quickly grown irritated by their bickering and left what feels like a few minutes ago now, but what was really closer to an hour. So it’s him and Tsukasa again, sitting on the edge of the stage so that their feet dangle off the side of it. 

“Really, Rui! I would think you of all people would understand my spectacular artistic vision!” To a bystander it might appear as if they’re fighting. Maybe they are, in a practical sense. Rui feels annoyance flare up at Tsukasa's continued refusal to budge.

“I understand what you're going for, certainly, but what I can't comprehend is why you would think portraying his anger in a way that's more subdued would be better than playing it straight. Righteous fury better suits everything that has been established of the knight's character so far.” The point of conflict is over an interaction between Tsukasa's character and Rui's character in their upcoming show. The Knight has captured The General as repentance for The General's wrongdoings, but ends up sparing him despite his anger. 

“Because it's subversive! It contradicts what our audience believes of the Knight. It's not enough to change the narrative, but perfectly enough to cast doubt on the impenetrable armor of the Knight's honor!” Tsukasa is shouting now, motioning down to the script dramatically. The gentle wind rustles both the paper and Tsukasa's bangs. 

“You can't just make something subversive for the sake of it being subversive!” Rui places his script down next to him, less gently than he had intended. He's quickly realizing that nothing in it will give him anything of value for his argument. “Your natural instinct the first time playing the scene was more in line with my direction. That has to stand for something, no? And you're better at playing that sort of thing.” Tsukasa pauses for a moment at that, a contemplative expression overtaking his face. Rui notices that both of them are breathing with more effort than usual. Nene had said that this was far too small a part of everything to be this stubborn over before she left. Maybe she was right. But Rui wouldn't be the director he needed to be, that his troupe needed him to be if every detail wasn't treated with utmost care. And Tsukasa wouldn't be the lead he is if he didn't care about all the details the same way Rui did. Even when he was wrong. Nene was right when she said that they were both the same type of insane. That's the only reason they could debate like this. 

“Because I didn't understand the characters as well before as I do now.” Tsukasa leans forward, just ever so slightly closer to Rui. Rui's face warms in response, also just ever so slightly. Most traces of frustration have left Tsukasa's voice, and he has that look in his eyes— dedicated and earnest. More than just arguing his point, he wants Rui to understand. The notion makes a strange feeling well up in Rui's chest. “The Knight isn't just a beacon of nobility. He presents himself in such a way, and is committed to his ideals, but he's just as selfish as anyone else!”

“Oh.” Rui is seeing the idea now, in its vague shape. He was thinking about this too simply. “You've hooked me now, Tsukasa. I urge you to elaborate.” The look of pride that overcomes Tsukasa's face at those words almost displaces the serious demeanor that he’s so diligently maintained. Almost.

“I think this also comes from a critical underestimation of the role of your character, Rui.” Rui knows his eyebrows shot up at that, could feel the way his efforts to keep his expression open failed. “You're thinking about his role in the play, clearly. He's functionally a villain. But you forget the critical piece of background that the Knight and the General had worked side by side before the events of the play. Regardless of the General's misdeeds, that fact remains true!”

“You said the Knight is selfish, so— oh!” Something clicks in Rui's mind. He was coming at this from the perspective of a director. Doubting Tsukasa's perspective as an actor had led him to missing something critical. “If you play it the way you suggested, it goes from being a Knight's rage for the sake of his kingdom to a personal bitterness towards somebody he once thought was a friend.”

“Exactly!” Tsukasa is almost bouncing now, visibly giddy. The pieces are falling into place. “I just didn't have the words to describe it! But it also reframes sparing the General not as the upholding of a moral virtue—”

“But as a selfish choice to put off having to dirty his hands with the blood of somebody he still cares about deep down—” 

“Which makes his decision to betray his code in the final confrontation in favor of his own way of life an even bigger deal!” They both start laughing, for no reason in particular. They must look insane to any possible onlookers— they probably are somewhere close to insane anyways. Tsukasa grabs Rui's shoulders, and Rui almost believes that Tsukasa’s going to shake him for a second. He doesn't. It's simply an expression of excitement at being known and understood, an excitement which Rui is realizing he shares in equal measure.

“It sets a precedent which further contextualizes his actions later on,” Rui says, and Tsukasa nods vigorously. Rui is half tempted to pull him into a hug. Their position would make it so easy. He starts running his mouth instead. “If you think about it like that, do you think there could be a possible reconciliation between the General and the Knight later on? It was their original ambitions which led them to clash, but if they both mature past their simple ideals— of course the General would need to change a lot as a person, but—”

“They balance each other. Rui, I think the world of this play is far more complex than either of us gave it credit for.”

“I think we are very much on the same page in that regard, dear star.” And Tsukasa smiles brilliantly at that, and it almost feels like an equivalent exchange for the fact that his hands retreat off of Rui's shoulders.

If they have their issue resolved, half of a sequel play planned, and both showed up to school slightly sleep deprived the next day Rui would tell Nene that it was nobody's business but theirs. It's dark by the time they finished talking, Phoenix Wonderland lit up in a way which makes its brilliance rival that of the park illuminated by the sun. The Wonder Stage is a dark spot within the sea of lights, with its ancient electrical equipment and haphazard set up, but that only makes it easier to see the stars. Rui and Tsukasa are spread out on the stage, looking up at the sky. All their words have been spent, but Rui is still reluctant to leave. Tsukasa insists on keeping him company. And wasn't that a metaphor that wrote itself? 

The wooden floor of the Wonder Stage which was once coated with dust is now lovingly maintained. The stars are so distant from where they were, an aspiration to admire from the sobering gravity of earth. Someday they would all make their way up into the sky, so they might exist among them. Tsukasa has his hand outstretched towards them. Rui can see it out of the corner of his eye. Rui tries reaching out up to the sky as well. Suddenly it feels much less far away. And that's exciting, but it also makes a melancholy sort of fear well up in his chest. He brings his hand back down to his side. For now he's content to stay here on the Wonder Stage, decorated by their memories and the history the people most important to him took up and continued by his side. They would leave some day. Rui knows this. He plans on it, even. He turns to his side. Tsukasa is still there, visibly enraptured by the sky. So why was it that the only star within arm's reach currently seems more valuable by worlds than the ones he had dedicated his whole life to?

Rui can't imagine the kind of person he would be without his shows. A miserable one, he imagines, because that's the more comforting notion. 

The other is that he'd be perfectly normal. Maybe even happier. 

His ambitions were what isolated him. There were other factors as well, naturally— but none of those mattered half as much. 

Rui was only able to dream the way he did because he was distant from humanity, and the reason he was distant from humanity was the way that he dreamed. 

If he was a different sort of person with a different set of goals— would he find himself amongst peers everywhere that he went? Would people be able to look past his oddities if they were made small enough to look past? 

That sort of thought process had eaten so much of his life in middle school. Even Mizuki had thought he was strange, and though she embraced him for that fact it didn't make him feel any less isolated. Nene was similar. His parents were also strange, and thus never even pretended to be able to understand him even if he had their support. And then he met Tsukasa Tenma. 

And his place in the universe started making sense. Rui was never ashamed of who he was. He knew what he had wanted to achieve, and was more than willing to pursue it alone. 

But he isn't alone. Not physically, and certainly not in his ambitions. He always had a suspicion he was scared of realizing, but now has the ability to say with his full chest that he can't reach his full potential alone. Without—

Bright eyes, a voice that never wavers, a shared goal.

Rui never lets himself finish that thought. He needs more time.

But even in the still unrealized state he's in now, he's happy. 

And he can't imagine the kind of person he would be without his shows because he doesn't want to be that person. 

The cheer squad competition was no doubt one for the ages— Tsukasa is well aware of that fact when he enters, but made doubly, even triply aware of it when he sees Rui standing proudly on the opposing side, a manic gleam in his eyes and the sort of people who would bolster him and his ambitions around him. Tsukasa almost feels an unnecessary pang of jealousy for a moment, that he for once would not be the one responsible for bringing Rui's genius to life. That notion is quickly smothered by the flare of competitive spirit. With Rui on the other side, Tsukasa figures that they actually stood a chance against him. Which is why he would win.

Rui as an ally is a valuable asset— he pulls out any of his ideas or his inventions, and you're suddenly very relieved he was on your side. Tsukasa is used to Rui as an ally, with his endless consideration and kind guidance. 

Rui as a rival is a wholly new experience for him. One he's finding that he quite likes. They can make inane taunts at each other during practice, glare at each other with false mirth from opposite sides of a field. Tsukasa can watch Rui carry around an extra notebook at all times during the duration of planning, can know Rui is bringing increasingly ridiculous inventions to school but for once not be allowed to see what they were. And that's dangerous, yes. And frustrates him to no end. But it also lights a fire under him. Tsukasa knows that he could beat Rui, that his team could beat Rui in his heart of hearts. But they have to go all out to do it. 

Akito frequently chastises him for pushing himself and the others too hard, but Akito simply does not understand what they are up against. Akito lacks humility in the face of a genius, and that would be his downfall if he isn't careful. Tsukasa tells him that, actually. But Akito just laughs. 

Tsukasa knows that something's bothering Rui from one look at him, down the hallway or across the field. Something that he's not allowed to help with. Tsukasa grits his teeth. Hopes that somebody on the other side pays Rui enough attention to see it— that he's holding back, that he's scared of losing this new tentative bond with his classmates he built. He has seen this scenario play out before. And maybe he's different from most of their classmates, but he has all the faith in the world that whatever Rui wants to do would make the greatest show that could possibly exist within the parameters they were given. He wants to march over, grab him by the shoulders, and shake that sentiment into him. He wants other people to be able to see Rui the way he does. But this isn't his battle to fight, and Rui is a valiant warrior on his own terms. 

Akito smacks him over the head with a rolled up script, and tells Tsukasa that all his staring makes him look like an idiot.

The day of the competition comes, and he and Rui are both busy spending lunch making last minute preparations with their teams, so he's left entirely in the dark about whether things are resolved. But Tsukasa assumes that they are, because he knows that there was no other way that his team stood a chance. He goes full force into battle, dedicating himself to his teammates and the effort they put in. It's so easy to lose himself in the spirit of it, to have the most fun he could imagine he could have. And when the time comes, put on a show which lights up the crowd with the power born from all the effort and planning that went into it. 

When they finish, he finds himself scanning the blue team stands on instinct without being able to catch himself first. It's easy to find Rui, he's tall amongst the rest of the crowd. Rui's looking at him and smiling, and Tsukasa throws both his hands up to wave at him. So many things could be communicated through one smile. A sense of pride, congratulations, the underlying feeling of being glad to see each other. But also a competitive edge. And that's when Tsukasa knows they’re in for a real show.

Where the red team shined, the blue team burns. The general energy of the performance is subversive at first, and exceedingly contagious. The rousing speech, the downtrodden soldiers rising up. And then people start flooding the field from rooftops and windows and virtually anywhere they could have come from, rendering the field surrounded and Tsukasa's heart pounding in his chest from the second hand thrill of being able to witness something like that pulled off so perfectly. Most of all he sees Rui, standing center field with their captain despite not even being an official member of the team. He has a weightlessness to him, like he's finally shed off some of his reservations, and his face is bright with the same ecstasy Tsukasa had come to recognize so well— he sees it at the end of every curtain call, in practice and everywhere else where Rui was able to exercise the extent of his talents unencumbered. It's stunning. The red team is going to lose. Tsukasa finds himself laughing, the joy welling up in him needing to escape his body somehow before the force of it makes him explode. His teammates are looking at him strangely, but he can't find any one part of him that cares.

They hadn't just accepted Rui's ideas, they embraced them. He had nothing to worry about. 

After the competition ends and the blue cheer team wins by a landslide, Tsukasa vows to debrief with Rui soon, as he watches him depart with his team and friends for a celebration dinner. 

That night Tsukasa must have told the story to Saki at least four times, because even she was laughing at his enthusiasm. She tells him that he should tell his rendition of everything to Rui, and suddenly Tsukasa finds his face burning in embarrassment. Unused to feeling any sort of shame and more than a little flustered, Tsukasa makes a quick retreat to his room after that.

He stays up that night thinking of the competition, but mostly of Rui. The idea of being vulnerable enough to tear aside his inhibitions, and make sure Rui knew exactly how Tsukasa sees him. How important he is. He could do it. Tsukasa Tenma is a star, and stars do not waste time in going after what they want. And then he thinks of the competition again. Of how Rui managed to do what he did with the limiting factors of the school environment, and a cast of actors who had not played a role a moment of their lives. And he thinks about what Rui could do, if he was given a group of world class actors like he deserves. How much closer that would push him to his dream.

Tsukasa Tenma is a star, but he's also well acquainted with the concept of humility. He knows he's a good actor, but still so far from the best. And he knows that Rui would thrive if he were given the best to work with. 

Rui is too sentimental to push him as his lead aside too quickly. Tsukasa knows this as a fact. So is it an entirely unlikely notion that he was holding Rui back? Their connection would one day shift. Tsukasa knows that. All of their group knows that some day they would have to part ways. But could he still be a star while being selfish enough to want to hold on for just a little while longer?

Tsukasa does not consider himself a possessive person. Despite the way he presents himself, he knows he often fails to take ownership of anything whatsoever entirely for himself. His success within Wonderlands x Showtime is not his inherently, but his troupe's. Saki claims he was in large part the reason why she is where she's made it today, but Tsukasa will always insist that it was every part her strength which has allowed her to thrive. He readily shares his knowledge, his lunches, his heart and spirit.

So why is he suddenly jealous when it comes to Rui? 

In every moment where Rui succeeds, Tsukasa is happy for him. Every time Rui is recognized for the marvel that he is, Tsukasa gains faith that the world is a just place. Sometimes he wants to push Rui directly into the spotlight so that the world will know who he is and will not forget him. He needs Rui to be able to witness firsthand his own worth. 

But that comes with sharing the privilege of being Rui's lead.

He remembers bristling whenever Sakurako carried herself through her lines in a way which was clearly directed by Rui's hand during the first night show. Of their classmates in the Cheer Competition, even though he knew that was likely where their ventures in acting would begin and end. It was irrational. He couldn't get it to stop. 

One day, when their group disbands, Rui will create roles that Tsukasa could perform with other actors in mind. And that was something which he had to be fine with, even as the very thought sends annoyance rippling through his whole body. He can't help but think that he could do it better. Would make sure he could do it the best out of anyone, mostly out of a desire to fulfil his own ambitions. But he also can't deny that he wants Rui to choose him. To continue choosing him as long as they can make it last for.

Rui is his director, but he won't be forever. Tsukasa thinks that in some way, a part of him will forever be Rui's lead. 

Though he's slightly less blatant about it then some of the louder people of their group, Rui is very much excited about the opportunity to work with Arcland. He's familiar with their work, of course. Their style of production, the way they went about the process of putting on a show from the very beginning— it was the closest he's seen any modern group come to working towards the sort of dream he has, at least in a very surface level sense. He has so much he wants to learn. He has so much he wants his friends to learn. Tsukasa turns to look at him, passion bright in his eyes. He wants this to succeed in the same way that Rui does. 

It soothes the potential fear of being rejected by people who he looks up to. The world would not end if he couldn't direct the way he needed to. And if it did, his troupe would be there to help him start it again.

In rapid succession, Rui discovers that Arcland is everything he hoped they would be, that Asahi was an actor in a class of his own, that his fears were unfounded, and that this whole process would be difficult in an entirely different way than he had expected. They're at a diner now, after a long day of practicing. Asahi is talking about his inspirations— and it's so obvious that in so many ways, he and Rui are the same. Word for word their stated goals match. For some reason a pit forms in Rui's stomach. Asahi makes a joke about poaching him from his group. Rui also discovers how quickly Tsukasa's eyebrows can shoot all the way to the top of his forehead. 

It's not a very funny joke. It doesn't hurt his evening too much, though the pit in his stomach grows just a little bit wider. Nene and Emu brush it off quickly. The same can't be said for Tsukasa.

Rui steals glances at him throughout their meal. His voice doesn't lack any of the enthusiasm it typically does, but there's a pinch in his eyebrows. Rui sees his hands shaking from how tightly they're gripping the silverware. Asahi is trying to tell him something about a show he did in the past, but pauses partway through. Rui realizes it's probably because his attention is divided. Rui turns to look at him again. Everything feels off. The pit grows.

Rui watches Tsukasa shine in both of the roles he plays. Neither of them are all that suited to his acting style, and Rui feels deeply held admiration well up to fill the pit in his stomach. Tsukasa is an amazing actor, and a future star. That's a fact that nobody can deny.

Asahi is a better actor in almost every possible way. Rui can see the fire it lights beneath Tsukasa. How quickly he learns, all the ways he tries to compensate, the way Rui can feel his eyes on the back of his head whenever he's talking to Asahi.

In the end it's hard to help. The gap in professional experience is not one that passion so easily crosses. Nonetheless it feels like a betrayal to hand the role of Alfred to anyone other than Tsukasa. 

Because the one thing Tsukasa has a leg up in— the thing that draws Rui to him as an actor most of all is his ability to feel. When Tsukasa Tenma truly understands a character, he feels everything that character feels channeled through his own way of understanding the world. His performance does everything within its capability to communicate that feeling to an audience. It's so potent it's explosive. Tsukasa can hardly contain it— Rui ends up putting in extra work to help him try to.

When it works, it's nothing like Rui has ever seen. His performances have the raw ability to bring people together through those shared feelings alone. It makes Rui wonder— if they pushed it a little bit further, if only they had more time—

They have a month, and the role needs the delicate control of technique and emotion that Asahi has mastered. Tsukasa takes the disappointment beautifully. Rui still aches for him. The pit in his stomach grows.

Asahi's joke wasn't funny because it wasn't a joke. The pit in Rui's stomach grows so wide that it feels like it's on the verge of swallowing him whole. 

For the rest of the time leading up to the show, Rui is at war with himself. He had thought he had known himself. He had thought he had an understanding of his ambitions— why did he hesitate? The image of Tsukasa on stage as Thorpe flashes in his mind. He sees Nene and Emu's active improvement throughout working with Arcland. They're taking strides to being able to achieve their dreams. 

Rui has just been offered a leap. He tries to focus on putting on the best performance he possibly could. Emu and Nene are worried. He still feels Tsukasa's eyes on the back of his head. 

He checks on Tsukasa before the show starts. Tsukasa insists that he'll put on a show worthy of Rui's trust. Rui doesn't know how to make any of this easier. Regardless, he hopes with his whole heart that Tsukasa succeeds. 

And he does. They all do. They've enraptured every audience they've had. Rui is shocked by how much the freedom of a larger budget and more experienced actors had allowed him to do. 

Tsukasa looks at him when he rises from his bow, and Rui looks back. He couldn't imagine a better Bartlett for his version of the story. That final moment, where the dam broke and Tsukasa was able to let all his pent up feelings burst to the surface— Rui had never seen an audience unite at a single moment with so much clarity. 

He also struggles to imagine a better Alfred. Asahi's passion was clear. He understood what he was doing and what he was doing it for. Tsukasa could match Asahi in many ways, but as things were now he could never beat him.

Asahi still wanted Rui to join Arcland. 

Rui wants his dream to come true.

The talk by the fountain. Rui thinks he goes into the conversation knowing what he wants, but the moment he starts to speak he doubts himself. He can't imagine leaving the Wonder Stage behind, not when he had so recently vowed to live out the days he had left with them with his full heart, believing that they had so many more days left than this. Not when he could still do something to help them realize their dreams. They had so much more potential— Rui wants to keep growing alongside them. Rui thinks of Tsukasa on stage. The way he so readily gives his heart to every audience he has. 

Asahi looks at him, sighs, and says that it's so clear that his heart lies elsewhere. Rui feels the guilt of that notion gnaw away at him. He knows Asahi is right. He needs more time, and he's given more time. 

They will still part someday. Tsukasa and the others readily welcome him back, don't ask about where he was or the conversation he was having. Rui notices Tsukasa glaring at Asahi. But when he turns to look at Rui, relief is stitched into every part of his face. Rui feels lighter. They'll be okay.

On the train ride back, he talks briefly with Tsukasa. Neither of them regret this venture, they're both looking to the future. Tsukasa falls asleep with his head on Rui's shoulder, and a little bit at a time the pit starts to be filled. 

Somehow he doesn't feel as horrible about delaying his dream as he thought he might. Maybe that's only because he hasn't closed any doors. 

They will all part someday. Rui doesn’t want that. He vows to try to find a reality where they won't have to. He knows it's a losing battle. He still hopes.

For now he's happy to hold on to what he has. Rui leans his head against Tsukasa's, and Tsukasa shifts easily in his sleep to accommodate him. Time does not stop.

Rui's dream is to extend beyond the understood limitations of what a show could be. That's it in the simplest of terms. 

What those words don't contribute was the backbone that it was built off of, the underlying desire behind it all. Rui wants to put on a show that is unforgettable enough to unite the world through its essence, extending beyond the differences the audience had when they walked into the theater to give them something they could all share in by the time they left. He wants to leave them smiling by the time it's all over. He wants that moment during the climax, where all boundaries are broken between the individual members of the audience and the characters and everyone unites. 

In that moment he wants people to know that they never have to be alone entirely. As people they have art, they have each other, and they have understanding. They have the world at the fingertips if they choose to take it. 

Rui thinks about that moment, he thinks about the notion of taking the whole world, and he thinks of Tsukasa Tenma. 

Tsukasa has never once hesitated in taking what he wanted. He's readily proven to Rui that his only limitations are the goals he sets himself, and the goal he set himself is the world. 

Tsukasa wants to make the world smile. It's that ambition that makes him the leader that he is. 

Rui has now worked with actors who share his ambition in the simplest of terms. He knows how it feels— to be able to fall so easily in line with them, to be able to exercise the extent of his talent, to suddenly have a course which to direct his lofty ambitions on. 

But he also knows what it's like to work with an actor whose dream in the simplest of terms diverts from his. But whose essence is the same. And it feels like living. It feels like hours spent together after rehearsal, it feels like lunch on the school rooftop and reaching to the stars. 

It feels like being seen and understood. Like he won't be alone. 

It's Tsukasa at the heart of it all. Rui almost laughs at himself for making the symbol of his dream a boy who won't be a part of it.

Tsukasa knows well that there is a symphony to be found in the cacophony of disparate noises that come from running full speed down a school hallway on a late spring afternoon. He hears the beating of his own heart, shouting coming from further back growing fainter as they quickly pick up distance from its source. He hears excited chatter from the courtyard, and the ringing in his ears which is slowly subsiding, and the pounding of two sets of feet against the floor. But most of all he hears Rui's elated laughter behind him, melodic and gentle in a way that makes him almost forget that this boy— this godforsaken boy— just set off a homemade confetti bomb on the school rooftop in the middle of peak club hours. At least if it weren't for the manic lilt to it, readily apparent to a Tsukasa who was well acquainted with that laugh and everything that came with it. He would be picking pink confetti out of his hair for the rest of the day. Rui, oblivious to Tsukasa's inner turmoil and certainly not helping their escape efforts, squeezes Tsukasa's hand with his own as Tsukasa tugs the two of them around a corner. 

Suddenly he's the one being pulled as Rui makes a sharp turn and brings them into an empty classroom, and Tsukasa wastes no time in slamming the door shut behind them. Their pursuers did not see them turn the corner and had no means of knowing what classroom they disappeared into, if they even heard the door slam at all. He lets out a breath that he desperately tries to keep from turning into a laugh, because he's still pretending to be annoyed with Rui. 

“Just the sort of diversion we needed, leave it to our genius director to be quick on his feet.” The compliment slips before Tsukasa can catch it— Rui was the one that put them in this situation in the first place after all. But complimenting Rui was an instinct of his, the words come tumbling out before he even thinks about where it's coming from. 

“Oh? You're complimenting me? Certainly that means that any points of conflict are behind us—”

“Wha!? I! Did! Not! Say! That!” Tsukasa turns on his heel to stare Rui down, because he has a reputation to uphold (however wounded it may already be) and is met with the sight of him. Rui is half-sitting on a desk, his chest is heaving and his cheeks are dusted slightly pink. His shoulders are shaking with laughter, he's generally disheveled, and his eyes narrow to fit the width of his smile. His hair is absolutely covered with pink confetti. Tsukasa pauses mid-thought to stare at him for a moment, and then breaks into a fit of entirely unwanted laughter. And then Rui starts laughing again, his eyes close and he leans back all the way onto the desk. Tsukasa stumbles closer to him on instinct, grabbing onto his shoulder for support. 

“It's not— it's not funny!” Tsukasa says when words are able to fight hard enough against his laughter to be intelligible. Rui clutches the back of Tsukasa's blazer and leans into his shoulder while he laughs— Tsukasa can tell he's trying to say something but can't even begin to make out what it is. Through the window, Tsukasa can see the bright smiles of a group of students in the courtyard as they run around throwing pink confetti at each other. And Tsukasa feels joy well up in his stomach so potent that it almost hurts, because it's a late spring afternoon, Rui is here beside him, and somehow that makes everything beautiful. 

And he knows it won't last forever, but it feels like it could when he knew Rui made his amazing evil creation because a couple days ago the two of them overheard a student mourning the fact that she had to stay in sick and missed the cherry blossoms this year, and against better judgment Rui refuses to let things lie. Because Rui wants to see the world smile, and would put his all into everything to achieve that. If Rui knows he could do something he does. If Rui has a vision, he stops at nothing to achieve it, and the world is always a happier place for it. Tsukasa knows because that was everything he aspires to be. And he feels that if he had Rui by his side— with the intelligent glint in his warm eyes and the kindness in his soft voice and the whole world at his callused fingertips— he could actually achieve it.

Tsukasa thinks that Rui is gorgeous in everything he does. He doesn't know when he started feeling that so strongly, but it's an opinion of he thinks he will always stick to, regardless of how he's challenged. 

Rui is not beautiful in the typical sense, not like the models in internet articles or the actors and music artists whose faces you can find plastered on anything. He's a bit of a mess, terribly scrawny, and always visibly sleep deprived. 

Rui is also not the sort of person Tsukasa is expected to find beautiful in the way that he does— for the simple fact that they're both men. 

But when his parents are concerned about his increasingly long school disciplinary record, he wishes he could tell him that they'd give in too if they were on the other end of the pleading gaze of the prettiest person that Tsukasa had ever met. 

He can't tell them that, for the dual reasons that it’d be horribly embarrassing and creates implications Tsukasa isn't ready to address yet. 

Rui is beautiful because of the mess that he is and all of the messes he creates, for his singing voice and the intelligence in his eyes and his smile and his ideals which sculpt the person that he is. And when he's at his brightest— during the euphoria of watching his ideas succeed, of achieving something he had set out to accomplish— Tsukasa has a hard time looking away. 

In those moments he doesn't know if he'll be content admiring Rui from afar. He wants to be part of the reason that Rui smiles. He wants to know what Rui's thinking about in his happiest moments. He wants to know if it's ever him, in the way that Tsukasa traitorously hopes it is. 

Tsukasa thinks about the fragility of their dynamic in the context of time. How many shows they have left before they part, how many disciplinary strikes and shared smiles. He feels as if his thoughts don't fit in the context of their parting. That his want is too strong to be smothered by time. 

Still, he wants. And the shape of it only grows more distinct.

The Tenma household is filled with warm light as the sun sets outside, and Rui finds that there's a certain novelty to that fact alone as he sits next to Tsukasa on his bed. The boisterous conversation from downstairs carries easily into Tsukasa's loft, and Rui finds that even that has its novelty, despite it making it slightly more difficult to focus on the script that they're supposed to be revising. He can't exactly help it if the discussion Saki is having with her bandmates is entertaining. 

Next to him Tsukasa snorts a bit at Shiho failing to get them all to focus. At least they're on the same page in regards to being distracted. Rui has spent no shortage of time at Tsukasa's house, but he always found that it was full of life. It was no wonder that the boy sitting next to him had come from this place— Rui did not doubt that he was where most of the liveliness came from. Suddenly his chest is filled with a squeezing sort of affection, and he slumps against Tsukasa in an effort to satiate it. 

“Ah. Rui.” Tsukasa stiffens at first, but quickly relaxes. He even brings an arm around Rui's shoulders. It only serves to make whatever he's feeling flair up even worse. Rui almost wants to laugh at himself. “Are you tired? We can call it a night.” His tone is filled with a vague sense of concern coupled with exasperated fondness and Rui almost feels like crying. Really, what's gotten into him?

“I'd like to keep going. I just needed a break, I hope you don't mind—”

“Of course not!” Tsukasa all but shouts, squeezing his shoulder just a little bit for emphasis. “If anything I think that you should be taking more breaks— you focus so hard on things that you forget to take care of yourself, and I must say as your troupe leader I find it endlessly concerning—”

“I took care of myself tonight, though.” Rui says, because it's true. Tsukasa had insisted that they take the opportunity to make food for everyone since there was a scene in their upcoming play featuring a grand feast, so they did. It was mostly Tsukasa compensating for Rui's incompetence, but by the end their dishes were on the better side of passable and Rui had gained the experience of enjoying a meal at a table properly, with all the seats filled. That was probably why he’s feeling so sentimental— Tsukasa had let him be a part of that. Had invited him to be. Rui's inspiration is still fresh, and would be for a while. He feels much more in tune with how he would expect his character to feel— an extraterrestrial being who is on a mission to destroy the earth, but finds that his heart is warmed as he's welcomed into it. 

He had felt so distant from everything before Tsukasa Tenma came barreling into his life. An observer, trying to bring joy to the people around him without ever really feeling that he was human himself. But now he couldn't help but feel overwhelmed by how human he was— he feels hunger pains and exhaustion with more clarity, but he also feels the warmth coming from the rest of his troupe when they stood shoulder to shoulder on stage, the blooming in his chest that happened every time he and Tsukasa touch.

Tsukasa has his copy of the script balanced in his hand, held between them so they both can see. Rui had known that he wanted to use his talent to make people smile. But he didn't quite understand how much that notion meant to him until he was standing on the Wonder Stage in front of an applauding audience, after knowing that he had made the best possible version of a show that could have existed. The Halloween show was a turning point for him in a lot of ways. But the biggest was probably that he had found somebody who matched him at every challenge, who also hoped to endlessly push the limits of their shared medium. Who thought about their art in the same way he did, who would stop at nothing short of the best, enough to be willing to make a veritable feast just to understand a character better.

Tsukasa epitomizes the notion that Rui isn't alone in his dedication. That he doesn't have to compromise on bringing light to the world in exactly the way that he wants. 

The light that carries into the household steadily grows into a deeper sort of orange, and the conversation downstairs dies down. The day is drawing to a close. They only have so much time left— Rui doesn't know why he's thinking about it when he had chosen to keep it out of mind, but he is. 

To chase the dream Tsukasa had proved it was possible for him to achieve, Rui would have to leave him behind. He almost had. 

Tsukasa is highlighting something on the script, and it immediately draws attention to a problem Rui hadn't noticed before. He looks at Rui. Rui nods. Tsukasa immediately sets about looking for similar sorts of inconsistencies. They're completely in tune, and Rui doesn't know how he could possibly give this up. 

Tsukasa is a star. He always has been one, ever since he recovered the truth of his passion.  Rui truly believes that he will achieve everything he sets out to do. 

Rui also knows that Tsukasa has more faith in him than anyone he's ever met.

Rui wants to believe in himself as much as Tsukasa believes in him. He knows that someday he will. 

But even when he imagines himself with the confidence to face the world alone, giving all of himself to a show that will be the best he will ever create, he can't see anyone but Tsukasa in the lead role.

Rui finds beauty so easily in so many things. From the flowers in the school garden he cares for to the plays that have shaped his passion to a particularly satisfying math equation to the sun and stars themselves. There is no shortage of beauty in the world, and Rui hopes to impart that notion to others through his art and his conversations. He knows the world will be a happier place for people realizing that notion. 

The beauty of many of those things have grown exponentially when experienced alongside Tsukasa Tenma. 

Rui has found that Tsukasa tends towards oblivious about all the amazing things that exist around him, his tunnel vision often pointing him endlessly closer to his goals and precious little else. But there are those moments where Tsukasa is contemplative. Quiet. And where Rui is constantly pointing out things to him, it's in those moments that Tsukasa points out something that even Rui failed to see. 

Rui now sees the beauty in the painstaking process of rehearsing a line, in the admiration of his juniors, in perfectly sewn seams. 

Of course he also sees the beauty in everything that Tsukasa is and appears to be. But that's almost a foregone conclusion. 

Rui often thinks about saying something, in his purest moments of admiration, where for a couple of moments it's just him and Tsukasa and nothing else feels like it matters. And then he's brought back down to earth, by the reality of their circumstances. 

Leaving Wonderlands x Showtime, leaving Tsukasa, will be the hardest thing he ever does. He doesn't know if he'd be able to stomach it if he had even more reasons to stay. 

Especially since he knows that he would still go if it meant achieving his dreams, even if he couldn't stomach it. Tsukasa would do the same. 

Every moment they get closer, Rui feels like he gets closer to something giving. He doesn't know what it is. But he does know that he won't be the first to take a step back. 

And Rui doesn't know what to do.

The opportunity to work with the Phoenix Stage on their anniversary production is a concept which sends an electric tingle through Tsukasa's limbs, makes him feel as if he can't stay in one place. Despite the end of one chapter in their journey, their horizons are so clearly expanding. It will be a long road to get to where they want to go. So long they can only see the smallest segments of it stretching out before them. But the end goal— the sky on the horizon— Tsukasa wants to reach it. He isn't going to stop running anytime soon.

They're going to be doing a production of The Happy Phoenix. Tsukasa throws himself onto the lines of vying to be cast as one of his dream roles without a thought spared. He doesn't have the time to feel guilty about doing so before consulting the rest of his troupe before they're at his side, encouragement flowing freely from their expressions and words. Tsukasa knows this will rule his life from now to either the moment he's denied the role, or the end of the final curtain call. The shape of his days will shift, his time with his troupe will be limited, he will throw himself facefirst without thinking. From their expressions, Tsukasa doesn’t know if Nene or Emu understand the implications of this. 

One look at Rui, with the concern so clearly curled into the corners of his smile, those eyes that see and know him— they are on the same page, and Rui will stand by his side. 

There is a spark. A blaze will emerge from it. Whether it consumes Tsukasa or he consumes it remains to be seen. Something is going to happen. 

He watches Sakurako play the Phoenix. He feels the shape of his next few days shift entirely, and the road stretches out even further. 

He doesn't know if he can do this. He certainly can't match her from where he stands on the sidelines. But he can try. He's going to try.

Tsukasa feels his heart shatter a bit when he realizes that he's going to give up on seeing his idol perform again for this. He feels a bit better when Rui immediately understands who Tsukasa is alluding to, the gravity of what aspiring to that horizon means— Tsukasa is going to send his troupemates in his stead, and they will understand the shape of his heart just a little bit better.

They're wrapping up their warm-ups. Nene is visibly struggling, and Emu is all but coddling her. He smiles at them, and they don't see it. Rui is sitting on the steps a bit further up, also struggling, though not as obviously. Tsukasa hands him a water bottle. Rui smiles at him weakly as he takes it. Their fingers brush for a moment, and Tsukasa is struck by the feeling of it. They haven't had much time to just be Tsukasa and Rui since this whole thing has started. The look in Rui's eyes is resolute. He will support Tsukasa to whatever ends Tsukasa wishes for. He draws upon that support to keep pushing.

Tsukasa is struggling to keep up with the rest of his competition for Rio, and he falls even further behind Sakurako. He doesn't know what to do. Every waking moment, every roadblock which he attempts to cross in a storm made up of all he is, all of Rui's advice as all his years of wishing aren't enough to close the distance. 

Sakurako makes it clear that he needs to try harder. Tsukasa does. He will. 

He wants to understand the potency of Rio's desperation. Tsukasa thinks he knows what it feels like to work until it overtakes everything else. He does not. His definition was too narrow, the privileges afforded to him put blinders over his perspective. Rio did not eat for three whole days in his chase. Neither will Tsukasa. 

He struggles to keep up during practice. His troupemates have given him their support, but he can feel the worry emanating from them whenever he turns away. He wants to explain the reason why he's falling behind to the Phoenix Stage, to make sure they understand that he's not suddenly becoming worse, but the more people know the higher the risk of him being stopped. He keeps mouth firmly shut, his jaw clenched, and summons all the strength he can to make the gap in his performance less obvious. 

Tsukasa is an artist. He knows Rui understands this, because he's also an artist by the same definition. Rui sits with him between classes and during lunch and skips classes with him so that they can work on his lines. Tsukasa knows Rui has all sorts of nutrient dense drinks and the sorts of health bars that he wouldn't be caught dead eating in his school bag. Rui had promised to put an end to this if it went too far. Tsukasa catches himself wondering if it's because Rui doesn't believe in him. But he knows that isn't true, it's written in the way that Rui bites his tongue despite the worry so evident on his features, the way every time Tsukasa finds himself lacking his usual energy, Rui's gaze immediately finds and challenges him. Tsukasa knows that he's going to be fine. That this is something he has to do. Rui is an artist, so he understands. It's because Rui is an artist that Tsukasa is so willing to entrust himself to him like this. He takes another sip of his water, and returns to reading his lines. 

It suddenly becomes clear that Tsukasa has to go see his idol perform. He's weary, beaten down in every way that a person could be, struggling to keep up and mad at himself for struggling. He needs the final push. Rui all but forces an electrolyte rich drink into his shaking hands before they part that night. Tsukasa takes it, because he trusts Rui and because he likes feeling cared for. 

Tsukasa finds himself enraptured immediately when his idol steps on stage. The show is a bittersweet sort, the kind that feels so potently nostalgic even when you're experiencing it for the very first time. 

Tsukasa sees himself in the deliberation of the lead. In his pinched expression, his weary legs, his desire to keep going, his knowledge of an inevitable parting. He feels like he could reach out to the stage and have the character take his hand, that he isn't alone in this near unbearable weight that he carries. 

He cries. He tries his best not to. He doesn't want to worry anyone any more than he already has. Tsukasa is at the end of his rope. His body aches, he doesn't know where his future will lead him, he's distinctly so far behind the people around him in so many ways. He has worked his whole life for a dream that he has almost no chance of realizing because he's worked his whole life and is still worse off than people who started after him. He sees the shape of everything he wants to be, and it's so far away. He can't stop crying, not until the show is over. He still finds that he's smiling at the end. He doesn't understand. He wants to. He needs to. 

His friends gather around him, outside the theater, all looking out for him in their own ways.

Rui walks him home after they get off the train. Tsukasa has had a revelation, and Rui can see it. They don't talk much. Rui presses a protein bar into his hands, and Tsukasa almost cries again because he doesn't know how he could have done this without him. He pulls Rui into a hug, and Rui immediately hugs him back, holding onto Tsukasa like he was scared to let go. In that motion alone Rui it's laid bare that Rui seems to feel responsible in some way for him, that he wishes he could have done more. Tsukasa vows to himself that the next day he will put on a show which would reassure him more than words could. Tsukasa isn’t even sure if he has the words. 

His audition contains the best acting that Tsukasa has ever done. He remains entirely unchallenged for his role, the applause is thunderous despite it coming from such a limited cast, and the smiles on his friends faces are so bright. He wipes his tears and smiles back at them. There's relief written into every part of his being. 

Rui's eyes are alight with a fire that Tsukasa knows well by now. Tsukasa can see tears welling in the corners of his dry eyes, while Emu and Nene shed theirs openly beside him. Tsukasa doesn't know what this means for the future of WxS, or for him and Rui. But he does know that today he took a large step further in this road to the horizon they all share. 

It brings him closer to the fork in the road. And that’s scary. He isn't ready to strike out on his own yet. 

They still have more time. Tsukasa will make the most of it. He feels stronger for the people standing by his side.

Tsukasa's dream is to become a Star. The definition of it has been vague throughout the course of his life, so that it might fit all the versions of himself who have aspired to it. But Tsukasa finds that he is growing to understand the truth behind it, as he better understands the truth of what he is. The first major revelation had been when he brought Rui up onto the stage in Sekai, completing his troupe. There have been countless tiny ones ever since. 

To Tsukasa, a star is the sort of person who you can't look away from. Who embodies what it means to be a character, and through that embodies what it means to be a person, to feel all the layered things that they feel, to understand the richness lurking at the core of every life. 

It means striving to push the boundaries of what you can do in every instance. To draw the eyes of a full audience in order to unite them. It's the most concentrated form of human understanding, it's the earnest delivery of the notion that no matter what it is you're living, that you are never fully alone. 

The world leaves the auditorium smiling and inspired. Within the boundaries of their art and their talent and their humanity, there is nobody they won't be able to reach. 

He thinks of Rui scrawling out ideas in the corners of his school notes, on food wrappers and on whiteboards in empty classrooms. The tiniest of changes to capture even one person's attention. Hours of work to make a device which will appeal to only one part of the crowd. Always revising, always with a gentle hand, always looking to understand more people so that he might be able to reach more of them. Tsukasa looks at him and he sees his director, he sees a miracle worker, and he sees the core of his own ambitions written into every part of Rui's form— in all his scars and all his kindness. It's a constant reminder of everything he wants to be. 

Tsukasa is grateful for every moment he spends working beside Rui. He doesn't want it to end. And he almost laughs at himself, because how is he so selfish to look at everything that Rui had given him and still not feel like it was enough?

Rui was never much one for school events, really. He is willing to add the caveat that he had fun at the cheer festival, but the notion of a school trip— there wasn't really the excuse of having to work with other people anymore. The groups they were to make are exclusive to their classes, Rui is an outcast by way of his own making, and he truly struggles to imagine himself having fun with any group that takes him out of an obligation to. 

He talks about it with Tsukasa, and wishes that they could have a group together. He's so confident that the trip would be fun that Rui wouldn't put it past him to grab the whole thing by the reins and force it to be everything he hoped it would be if he had to. Rui admires his dedication endlessly, though he wasn't nearly as resolute about this sort of sentimental thing himself.

And then Tsukasa compares it to a show, and Rui suddenly understands much better than he did before. Tsukasa makes him promise to at least try to have fun, and he does. 

He's baffled to find himself recruited into a group with his classmates with so little intervention on his part. Miyake, Hayashi, and Taniyama are genuine in their efforts to approach him and somehow that makes something warm in Rui's chest. He readily accepts their offer, and finds himself easily swept up into the conversation they're having. Their group, though clearly established, is adjusting quickly to Rui's presence. It’s almost fun. Rui begins to understand even more.

Tsukasa is amusingly astounded to find that Rui has made a group so quickly, but is encouraging in a way which reminds Rui of just how amazing of a person he is. He invites Rui to join him during their free day, and he doesn’t think before accepting. The itinerary for their trip only grows as they discuss all of the things they would like to do on the walk to the Wonder Stage. Tsukasa insists that Rui take a step back from planning everything out in order to let the experience of the trip shape itself, but he was just as enthusiastic about planning it as Rui was. Nonetheless he agrees. 

Rui is surprised to find that his group accommodates him like it does. They manage to stop off at all the places Rui wanted to, they listen to his ramblings which he tries and fails to filter, and add to the conversation instead of moving around it. It's fun, and Rui didn't know that he was capable of connecting with people this way outside of performances. It makes the world seem just a little bit brighter. Rui thinks of Tsukasa— about the role he had in shaping that revelation. 

Tsukasa becomes a member of their group throughout the course of one card game. Rui wants him to be a part of it, of course. But there was a moment where he was worried that the dynamic of him and Tsukasa together would throw everything with his new friends off kilter. 

He couldn't be more delighted to be wrong, as he chases Tsukasa in circles around their room laughing openly. Tsukasa's reluctance to let him come with to fulfil his dare was only an act, Rui knows that he doesn’t want to get in trouble alone. But it was an act that was endlessly entertaining to the two of them, and evidently the rest of their groupmates. Taniyama all but falls over with how hard he's laughing. 

They get caught, of course, because two who are known for their troublemaking will always be suspicious merely by existing around each other. Tsukasa complains, but he doesn't try to get out of it. They fulfill their punishment together, and Rui knows that this is what he was what Tsukasa was talking about, way back at the beginning. These were the sorts of memories he could only make once. Rui is so happy that he was making them with Tsukasa. 

Rui's friends inquire about his and Tsukasa's relationship after Rui returns to their room, still smiling and giddy. He doesn't know how to describe it in a way that they would understand. They seem well meaning and genuinely curious. Rui says that regardless of everything else, Tsukasa is somebody who makes Rui happy, and who he wants to make happy. They laugh at him for being so sappy, but they seem to understand. Rui's heart grows just a little bit lighter. 

Running into the group from Miya Girls is a surprise in only the most pleasant sense. They readily join up, and the added chaos envelops Rui in a way he could only describe as being somewhat parallel to that of the most comfortable winter coat he's ever worn. He listens intently as Shizuku tells stories about a younger Tsukasa, teasing at all the right moments to best rile him up. He finds joy in Airi's exasperated musings. He watches Mafuyu begin to open up slightly, her guard dropping and her smiles growing less wide but much warmer. He's making friends, and it's not even all conscious effort. Rui is rapidly rediscovering his ability to connect with people. He's laughing, easy and free. Every time he turns to look at Tsukasa, he's smiling at him with a grin so wide it threatens to split his face. 

All the key players of the trip regroup to go to the parade together, and Rui's friends seem more than a little starstruck to be in the presence of a group of girls. When he pulled back to catch up with his group after everyone was introduced, Miyake makes a teasing remark about how entirely unstarstruck Rui is by them. And Rui is so entirely caught off guard that he laughs easily, despite the way his face warms. It was the sort of teasing banter with boys his age that Rui had once thought he'd never be able to be a part of, and his mind immediately starts spinning with ways to jab back at him. 

He does end up putting on an actual show after all— a small one, but it's incredibly enjoyable to work with an idol as his temporary lead. The effect is brilliant, does exactly what he intends for it to do and more. Tsukasa immediately identifies his handiwork when he sees it, the group reunites, and the crowd is left with the inevitable sense of wonder created by snowfall in the peak of summer. 

The rest of the parade goes by in a flash of color and excited shouting, leaving Rui with a flurry of ideas he and Tsukasa are trying to rapidly hash out while it's fresh in both of their minds. The others don't give it any special attention, other than offering their own ideas. It's the sort of acceptance that Rui has always craved.

His and Tsukasa's ultimate pillow fight ends rather anti-climacticly when they're dragged away from it by an annoyed teacher, not even sparing a look at the rest of Rui's group despite their participation in it. Rui almost feels bad for the teacher. Not enough to regret everything. Tsukasa rants and raves, but Rui knows that glint in his eye. They're on the same page in that. Rui couldn't have asked for a better person to share this with, to share in everything that they both are willing to give. Tsukasa is such a large part of his life now that Rui doesn’t know what his future would look like without him in it. 

In a quiet moment, he tells Tsukasa that he was the reason he was able to grow and change in the way that he did. And Tsukasa looks at him— his cheeks dusted pink and that overflowing look of something in his eyes— and tells Rui that it was his own willingness to grow that brought them here. And sitting in the makeshift disciplinary office made from an open room, empty save from the two of them at the moment, Rui feels the way he does at the end of a curtain call. Tsukasa was right in this, like he is in so many things. 

This was a show that Rui wasn't going to forget anytime soon. He says that, and Tsukasa scolds him for implying that it's over. They still have the rest of the night and the following morning. Rui can't wait to spend it with him.

At the end of every curtain call, Tsukasa looks at him. 

There have been countless performances by Tsukasa Tenma in the time that Rui has known him. And thus there have been countless Tsukasa Tenmas who rise from a deep bow, wearing the smiles heavy with the relief and ecstasy that come only at the end of a performance which you dedicate your whole being to. And have then looked at him. Whose smiles grow impossibly brighter the moment they lock eyes. 

Rui often sees each of those smiles play behind his eyes as he tries to sleep. Tsukasa as Torpe, Tsukasa as Rio, Tsukasa as The Sorcerer. Tsukasa in leading roles and supporting roles, Tsukasa as heroes and villains. 

At first Rui thinks of it as an actor searching for approval from the director: “Did I do a good job?” “Did I bring your vision to life?” because Tsukasa values his direction so much that he wants to be sure, and Rui knows him well enough to see the message underlying his gaze. But he should know by now that he doesn't even have to ask,  because it's Tsukasa Tenma asking, and not once in the time that Rui has known him has Tsukasa Tenma truly failed to meet a challenge. But then the question is answered, they both smile and the pretense of actor and director wavers. 

It becomes Tsukasa Tenma as Tsukasa Tenma. And then it's just Tsukasa looking at Rui, and Rui looking back with his breath suddenly shallower in his chest. 

Rui is a dreamer and an idealist, but not in the business of denying reality. He knows that in order to have committed the phenomenon to memory all these times, he had to be looking first. 

But that doesn't change the pattern.

And sometimes during those sleepless nights, with a desperate ache in his chest, Rui thinks maybe. Maybe.

Sometimes Rui feels like his life used to exist in the empty spaces between rooftops. Rui muses to himself as he walks to Tsukasa's classroom for what's likely the last time this school year. Normally he would chastise himself for dwelling too long on unhappy memories, but they were graduating from their second year today. Such on occasion warranted that sort of reflection, at least in Rui's eyes. Regardless, it was almost ironic how he still found himself seeking out rooftops after they were no longer a lifeline. He was doing that now. Rui pauses in front of the door to Tsukasa's classroom, suddenly aware of all the commotion, and the people gathered at a distance around Tsukasa's desk. 

“Ah. Kamishiro.” One of the group turns to him. The rest do as well. Some of them even start to walk off. “We were wondering if you'd show up. Tenma fell asleep, and none of us knew exactly what to do, so…”

“Is that so?” Rui tilts his head, amused. It's terribly out of character, and once he made sure Tsukasa was doing alright he'd have teasing ammunition for days. “I've got it from here. Go enjoy your last evening as a second year.”

“Yeah… you too.” The boy narrows his eyes a bit, almost disbelieving. He still walks off with a small smile resting on his face. Rui waits for the others to leave, and then sits himself on the desk in front of Tsukasa's. 

He really is sleeping, his cheek pressed into the desk and his hair sticking up at strange angles. The building has emptied out enough now that he can hear faint snoring. The sound of people laughing and discussing their plans carries softly into the room from outside. Something about the scene feels inspiring, and Rui allows it to linger a couple moments longer before he reaches out to gently shake Tsukasa's shoulder. 

“Ack! I'm sorry— oh.” Rui laughs as Tsukasa re-orients himself to the world of the living. “It's just you, Rui. I fell asleep.”

“You certainly did. And I certainly expected better of such a diligent student than falling asleep on the last day.” Tsukasa adopts an unimpressed expression and then yawns, stretching his arms. It's clear he's still trying to shake off what sleepiness remains. “Did you not sleep well?”

“Augh.” Tsukasa stands up, running his hands through his hair. “No, I did not. I stayed up thinking.”

“Thinking?” Rui tilted his head to the side. Tsukasa nods as he turns to look at Rui properly, and Rui does not miss the way his expression softens. 

“Yeah. About things. Endings mostly, since it's the time of year for that.” Rui nods, because he can't think of much to add. “How we make an ending feel right. How we leave everyone smiling in the end. I was thinking about what I could do about my own loose ends.”

“Tsukasa Tenma has those?” Rui says, clearly mocking, because of course he does. Tsukasa reddens a bit at that, turning his head to the side and grumbling. Rui laughs, satisfied in wielding the parts of their dynamic that were easiest. “I was thinking of going to the rooftop one last time this year before we're kicked out of the building. Care to join me?”

“Naturally!” Tsukasa responds, and gathers his bag. His voice is regaining some of its usual volume. 

They talk about mundane things as they wind their way up the stairs. They're just about to come to a conclusion about how the presentation of graduation could have been improved by some sort of dramatic spectacle when Rui pushes the creaking door open. Rui pauses in his tracks. The sun is setting, and he thinks of all the time he has spent on rooftops before. Tsukasa eventually tapers off too. Rui can feel him watching him. They both make their way to the chain link fence on the edge. They're greeted by the view of a sprawling school campus and empty classrooms. It's moving, for some reason. Rui knows it's because they're running out of time.

“It's beautiful in a sad way. The sort of feeling you want to bottle up so you can feel it again and again.” Tsukasa is right beside him, and suddenly Rui feels grounded again. He nods his agreement.

“I've never had a rooftop feel quite like this.” Rui says in return, bringing his hand up to the fence and turning to see Tsukasa's eyes torn between him and the view. 

“Like what?” Tsukasa says. His eyes land on Rui. They're intense, but that makes him feel safe. Tsukasa Tenma doesn't give him the room to put his guard back up. 

“Like I'm above it all. The hours spent alone, cloistering myself and my talents away from the world because I was scared. The wondering if anyone would ever give me a chance to make something of myself.” Rui doesn't have the strength to keep looking at Tsukasa, so he looks down at the world below them again. He laughs, and it feels bitter and relieved all at once. He's not rooted to the rooftop anymore. He could say now that his life existed in the empty spaces between rooftops and the Wonder Stage, and that would be sort of true, in a way. But he knew now that those spaces weren't empty. They were filled by his classmates, his troupe, and his passions. They were filled in large part by Tsukasa Tenma.

“I'm so glad, Rui!” Tsukasa's voice was slightly broken. Rui turns to see his smile wobbling, but firm in its placement. He looks very much like a man on the verge of tears. But Tsukasa bumps their shoulders, and now Rui's smiling too, despite himself. Rui wonders where that started. Maybe it really was on this very same rooftop, where Tsukasa confronted him all that time ago and they became a part of each other's lives. A distant part of Rui wonders if it would be more simple had they not met, but that's quickly squashed by happiness for the fact that they did. He really meant what he said on that school trip. He was a better person now. And he wouldn't exchange the time he had spent with Tsukasa and everyone else this year for the world.

“As long as we're together, I'll make sure you don't ever feel alone again.” Tsukasa promises, quieter than his usual tone allows him too. He leans into Rui, ever so slightly. Rui leans an equal amount into him, and thinks that he wouldn't trade the time they had left together for the world, or the whole universe several times over. And then he starts thinking about endings, again. And he catches himself thinking that maybe they don't have to be a foregone conclusion. Tsukasa is a steady physical presence at his side, a promise of everything he had ever planned to achieve. Rui wills himself to stop thinking, and watches the sunset instead. 

Sometimes Rui wonders if he truly will never be alone again in the way that he used to be. Wonderlands x Showtime was a beacon in the dark. 

He has bonded somewhat with other classmates, of course. Almost always with an outside push of some kind. Almost always with somebody else to convince them that he was worth trying to understand. Almost never in a way that lasts— though the exceptions were growing.

Their little troupe was a sanctuary. The outside world was much more dubious. But one day he would have to leave it behind. 

What then? Would he walk into his old habits once he left his support system of his own choice?

Would the world accept him without hesitating?

Rui thinks about Tsukasa. Thinks about the pride which he presents himself to the world with. The way people chide or laugh at him. 

Somebody else may believe that Tsukasa is so caught up in his own world that he doesn't hear it. Rui knows he does, sees the moments of hesitation and doubt, quickly pushed aside but always there. And then Tsukasa Tenma gives himself to the world regardless. Rui wishes to have that sort of courage. Tsukasa insists on building him up until he gets there. Rui is almost baffled to admit that somehow, it's working. 

One day he would be able to do it himself. One day, he hopes that his art will be able to do it for other people. 

Yet somehow he wants Tsukasa to be at his side to witness it. To look at him after every curtain call: “See? I knew you could do it.” Rui would laugh and thank him. And they'd do it again and again forever. 

They wouldn't need each other anymore. But Rui's chest tightens when he thinks of a world where he stood on that stage alone.

The sekai is massive and boundless, there's discoveries to be made constantly, it's teeming with life in its own right, and it's undoubtedly a manifestation of his own psyche. Which is why Tsukasa finds it almost scary to be there, sometimes. But he's also endlessly happy that it exists, that Kaito and the others have been brought to life by his own mind. He's visiting now with Rui. Miku had appeared in his phone to tell him that something had changed, and Rui— insatiably curious to a fault— had insisted on investigating. Tsukasa knows that he would have backed off if he had insisted on wanting to go alone, because Rui also understands what makes this place so unique— it was fragile, endlessly vulnerable. But he drew comfort from Rui being here at his side. If anyone could understand him for what he was, it was Rui. And that notion alone makes it much easier for Tsukasa to believe he could face himself. 

The sekai parallels the real world in some key facets, so the sun is setting on his virtual world just the same. He rarely ever came here during this time of day— the way the twilight illuminated everything is… he didn't have words. It feels special. 

“It's beautiful.” Says Rui, vocalizing his thoughts. “You always keep surprising me, Tsukasa.”

“You say that like I made it like this myself.” 

“Didn't you?” Tsukasa scoffs, as he and Rui make their way over to the tent where the vocaloids typically gather. The sekai was strangely empty, except for the sound of the rides running in the distance and their own footsteps. Tsukasa feels tension coil in his stomach. He almost jumps when Rui's hand brushes his. “Are you okay? We can turn back if you want…” Rui's eyebrows are knitted in concern. Tsukasa looks at him, and draws courage from it. In an act he might come to regret later, he takes Rui's hand. 

“Now I am. I know my director won't give me the chance to fall, no matter how hard it gets.” The tips of his ears are burning. Rui is looking at him strangely, so Tsukasa sets his gaze firmly forward. “Let's go.” 

Inside the tent, they don't find the typical scene, and they don't find any of the vocaloids. Instead they enter an empty studio. The air is sort of stuffy, despite the fact that it's large and open. Tsukasa vaguely smells old books, and hears the gentle tinkling of piano keys. It's entirely unfurnished except for a mirror in the middle. 

“This is—” Rui starts, taking in their surroundings and holding Tsukasa's hand tighter. “It feels distinctly nostalgic. Like it's right out of a memory.”

“Because it is.” Tsukasa feels incredulous, but his voice does not betray it. “This is my mother's piano studio.” He spent some time here, as a child. Him and Saki would sit in on lessons together, when they were very young and there was no other place for them to go. Some of his earliest memories were in this place, but only the early ones. He doesn't know whether to be comforted or set on edge. “Rui, it wants us to investigate that mirror. We should go.”

“Tsukasa, are you sure that you want me here?” Rui repeats again, unease still written into his expression. It feels strange to see Rui who has defined so much of his recent life in a place that defined his earlier years exclusively. Rui's hand is warm, the studio has always been far too cold. Tsukasa can't comprehend why he would ever want Rui to leave. 

“Yeah. Thank you for staying.” He croaks out, and it sounds so much more vulnerable than he anticipated. Rui looks resolute. The walk over to the mirror, side by side. 

As they approach it, their reflections distort. It's Tsukasa and Rui, and then it's Tsukasa from middle school and Rui with longer hair, dark circles, and a messy uniform. Rui takes a sharp intake of breath. Tsukasa sees him as he must have been, and wishes he had been there earlier. They take another step closer. It's him and Rui as children. Tsukasa almost laughs. He's taller. He looks to Rui beside him, and sees him as he is now. 

“I think it's a fragment of a feeling. Kaito has mentioned these to me before.” Rui says, clearly shaken but still a steady presence at Tsukasa's side. In the mirror, little Rui is looking at him. 

“I'm going to touch it.” Tsukasa says. Rui nods. He does. There's a flash of color, and everything coalesces into white light.

He's sitting in the audience of a play— the same theater where he saw his fist with Saki all those years ago, with the set depicting his childhood home. He panics momentarily, only to find Rui in the seat beside him looking at him with a vague sense of awe. Tsukasa reaches out again. Rui interlaces their fingers. Tsukasa has a feeling that he knows what this is. 

Tsukasa as a child walks onto the scene, all bravado and confidence. He has a blanket tied around his shoulders as a makeshift cape, and is wielding a stick. A sword. He hears Saki laugh. She's sitting on the couch, much paler than she is now. Tsukasa knows both of his selves light up when he sees her. 

“I see you were always the same.” Rui says, with an airy giggle. Tsukasa huffs. 

“Everyone who's known me earlier in life comments on how little I've changed. It's almost discouraging. I'm a much more defined person now then I used to be.”

“Of course.” Rui says. His voice is light. “You've grown so much in the time I've known you alone.”

“Thanks, Rui.” He says it, and means it. The scene in the play changes. Young Tsukasa is alone in the house, and gets a call on the phone. Tsukasa thinks he knows this one, but it plays out slightly differently from the time he's thinking of. It wasn't that concerning. There were so many calls, he was bound to forget some of them. The size of the house is almost overwhelming compared to younger him. The scene ends. Rui watches intently, rubbing a small circle into Tsukasa's hand with his thumb. 

There's a series of similar scenes. Tsukasa slowly grows into the size of the house, though every time he is alone in it. He plays the piano. He rehearses lines. He falls asleep waiting at the door. The stars twinkle visibly outside of the window, beyond where he can reach them. Tsukasa wants to look away. Rui's hand in his grounds him. Eventually the stars stop shining.

Tsukasa leaves the house eventually, with all the same bravado as he had when he was a child. It was in middle school that he had begun to forget. He watches himself interact with his classmates, and watches them mock him mere feet away. He watches himself walk home alone, staring up at the sky, then at the rooftop. There are many more scenes like this, and soon he grows into a high school student.

It's his house again. Saki returns. The stars are still dim. It seems like nothing has changed at all. 

Until there's a light. And then another. Tsukasa takes his place beside them as he sits from the audience— watches them materialize. And suddenly they're back in the tent in sekai. The Tsukasa on stage reaches down into the empty audience— and then there's a third. He watches Tsukasa pull Rui onto the stage. They both smile. Tsukasa feels like he's seeing something he's not meant to be seeing, even though it's his own memory. They embrace. There's so much light that it's blinding. 

And then they're back, sitting on the edge of an empty stage. Tsukasa tries to breathe. He knows his hand is shaking, but it seems like Rui's is too.

“I think I understand why we're both the way we are now.” Rui says, the first to break the silence. Tsukasa looks at him. His eyes are swimming with understanding, with empathy, with— Tsukasa thinks sees his own adoration reflected back towards him. “You were also alone.”

“Don't— it wasn't that bad. I'm here now, aren't I?” 

“You're so strong, Tukasa-kun. More than you know.” Rui leans into Tsukasa. Tsukasa all but folds into him. 

“I— is it selfish of me to say that I don't want to be alone again?” Tsukasa asks. He was thinking about endings again. Rui exhales lightly, and runs his fingers through Tsukasa's hair. He melts further into the touch. 

“Maybe. But you need to be selfish. You've dedicated so much of your life to others. But it's your life too.”

“Can you stay then? At least for now?” He says it without thinking. He spends many sleepless nights later on wondering if it would have been better if he hadn't. 

“Of course.” Rui says before Tsukasa has the time to regret it. “During graduation you told me that you'd make sure I was never alone as long as you were here.” Rui pulls back for a moment to look him in the eyes. “Tsukasa, as long as I'm here, I'll make sure you're never alone again either.” Tsukasa laughs a bit. It means more to him than words could capture. But it was such a bittersweet promise. It implied their parting.

Tsukasa lets Rui walk him home that evening. On the way back he keeps thinking about endings, likely the very thing which made his sekai change like that in the first place. He’s built so much of his life off of the notion that things had to end. 

But maybe. Tsukasa looks at the stars shining brightly in the night sky, and wills himself to stop thinking such ridiculous things.

Tsukasa often struggles with admitting where he came from. People often wonder about it, he imagines a fair amount more than the people who actually ask him. What sort of environment could somebody like him, with all his innumerable eccentricities and ostentatious way of presenting himself to the world even come from?

Tsukasa imagines they're thinking of somewhere atypical, but bright and wonderful. The sort of place that would create somebody who was oblivious to the harshness of the world. He imagines if they're wondering if the rest of his family is like him. 

Tsukasa doesn't want to let him down by saying that he comes from solitude, that sometimes he feels like he's the only person in the world who's quite like him. 

And even among those he's told, who know in some way or another, he finds himself unable to describe the blurry details of his childhood. He doesn't want the sympathy, or the looks that come with it, or for anyone to think of him as any different from the way that he was today. It was so much worse for Saki anyways, and he's grown past most of his angst over it by now. 

He is Tsukasa Tenma, a Future World Star, and he will not allow his past to define him. 

Something changed when he met somebody who finally understood. 

Rui was guarded about his own past, but not enough that Tsukasa couldn't make out the implications of what he was saying. 

It becomes irrevocably clear to Tsukasa through his time knowing Rui that he also knew what it felt like to be alone in that way. 

They don't talk about it. Not in blatant terms anyways. Maybe someday they would have to sit down and have that conversation in its entirety. 

But for now Tsukasa is content to sit behind him, and look at how much they've managed to grow for knowing each other. He needed Rui. He still needs him now. 

They're growing closer to the threshold where they'll stop needing each other. They'll be able to part ways knowing that they'll both be okay on their own. 

Somehow that ending isn't satisfying in the way he needs for it to be. 

The ending to a show should make everyone smile. Tsukasa knows this like he knows what it means to be a star. 

What sort of ending would do that for him?

Rui knows that Tsukasa is beautiful in everything that he does. But he thinks that he's especially beautiful when he's focused on something. 

Tsukasa is sitting next to him, working intently on a physics problem. They're at Rui's house for a change of pace, and had set up shop at the low table in the living room so that Rui could help him prepare for an upcoming test. Rui had opened a window so they could see by the light of the setting sun instead of the dingy overhead light. 

Tsukasa's eyebrows are pinched, his eyes much narrower than they typically are. He rapidly scribbles over what he was doing before and starts anew, working through the problem much more smoothly now. Rui laughs a bit as his eyes light up when the pieces connect the way they're meant to. He's mumbling something vaguely to himself, so quiet that Rui can't hear it. His voice is a bit lower than usual. For some reason Rui finds that transfixing. 

Maybe because it's a part of Tsukasa that most people don't have the privilege of seeing. Maybe it's because for whatever reason he finds it attractive, though he would never say it.

Tsukasa finishes the problem and asks Rui to check it over. This isn't the first time— they've been at these specific sorts of calculations for a while. But Rui finds no issues, and Tsukasa cheers in excitement, throwing his arms up so that Rui could double-high-five him. 

For some reason he can't explain, Rui interlaces their fingers when their hands make contact. Tsukasa's fingers immediately curl over his own, and he lowers their hands so that they're held between them.

And now Tsukasa is looking at him like he's a puzzle for him to solve. Rui doesn't know what to do under the intensity of his gaze. His eyes are narrowed, it's like every part of his brain is working in overdrive to figure out the intentions behind this gesture that Rui doesn't even know what he intends to do with. 

Rui knows what he wants to do, now that they're here. They're not far apart. He could move their hands down to their laps, lean against bit closer, close the distance so easily —

Rui drops Tsukasa's hands without explaining why he took them. He looks very intently at the table. He can feel Tsukasa thinking beside him, and Rui is close to tears of frustration. It would be so easy, and therein was the issue. Rui doesn't know if he could ever recover from it if it happened. He doesn't know if he could ever bear letting go. 

He wants to live life with Tsukasa by his side. So much it almost makes him angry. 

But who would he be if he let that get in the way of his dream? Of Tsukasa's dream? He says nothing more and pulls some more physics materials out of his bag. Their shoulders brush. Rui doesn't let his focus break.

Rui is different in his sleep. It's a fact that Tsukasa has become strangely acquainted with in their time knowing each other. They have to travel for their shows much of the time, and are thus scheduled to stay in hotels. Tsukasa shares a room with Rui, because it makes sense. 

They are currently laying parallel from each other in a hotel room bed. The room has two, but they stayed up so late next to each other talking about everything and nothing in particular that they had fallen asleep that way. Tsukasa has a habit of waking several times in the night. So he's here, awake, next to a sleeping Rui. 

Rui sleeps exactly like you might have expected him to. Limbs strewn, hair a mess, not bothering to fully change out of his dayclothes. But he is different, in the sense that you get the distinct feeling that his mind has finally been given a chance to slow down. Not stopped, Tsukasa knows it would be impossible to get Rui's racing stream of consciousness to pause completely, or else he wouldn't be Rui. But in the dark of night, it almost seems like he eases up. Like he's lighter, allowed the novelty of being able to dream without being held down by the cruel limitations of reality. His eyelids flit, and Rui snores once quietly. Tsukasa chastises himself for staring again. 

He remembers the Rui from earlier that day, set alight by a successful show. Natural in his role, the way he always is when he's playing a character parallel to Tsukasa's. It was fun. But there was that underlying bitterness that comes with most shows that they do. They only have so much time left to do this together, after all. Even if Rui seems oblivious to it in his sleep, it defines everything they do together for the rest of the time they have. 

Rui's hand is resting in the space between the two of them. Tsukasa desperately wants to take it. He also wants to push Rui's messy bangs back and press a gentle kiss to his forehead, because Tsukasa Tenma is rapidly coming to terms with the fact that his feelings for Rui are far from platonic. He does neither of those things, even though he's beginning to think that it might not be as poorly received as he first thought.

Instead Tsukasa quietly moves from the bed they shared to the empty one, and wills himself to fall back asleep again. Because while he is rapidly coming to terms with the fact that he's struggling to imagine a version of his dream without Rui in it, that doesn't mean that Rui felt the same. And that doesn't mean that they wouldn't have to sacrifice something to have such a future.

Rui feels stuck at the precipice of something. It's hard to put into words exactly what it is— something feels like too vague a descriptor, by way of its vagueness it doesn't even come close to portraying the gravity of the issue. He knows it centers Tsukasa Tenma, and really that makes sense. He also knows that it's life altering. Rui also knows that he knows what it is, somewhere deep in the part of his chest that aches terribly when he thinks too hard about it. But all those things are intangible. There's one, single concrete issue to work towards resolving.

He feels different about Tsukasa than he does his other troupemates, and he feels guilty for it.

“Ah! Rui!” Emu bounds up to him as he stands a bit awkwardly outside of her school. They have today off, for club activities or leisure or really whatever they wanted it for. In Rui's case, it was for difficult conversations that made him think about the future. For Emu, it was for going out for taiyaki and talking to a friend. “I'm so super excited to see you! We can get our taiyaki from the stall, and then maybe walk around PxL?”

“That's perfect. I'll buy it today.”

“Yay! Thank you thank you!” Rui feels suddenly at ease knowing that they would be standing in firmly familiar ground. He also feels that Emu is smart enough to do that on purpose. Which was part of why he chose her when it started becoming increasingly clear that he needed to talk to someone. Emu is kind and unabashedly supportive, but in equal measures sharp in her wit and the sort of person who understood all the things about Rui that Tsukasa didn't. 

Heading back to Phoenix Wonderland, he tries to keep his mind on the show they were discussing and his taiyaki. Rui knew that Emu wouldn't shun him. But telling her might change the way she thinks of him, shift the dynamic of the troupe in some imperceptible way by allowing his thoughts to take up space outside of his head, where he no longer has full ownership over them. It would make what he’s feeling real. Then again— Rui thinks as he follows Emu skipping down the street— maybe it’s already real. And that thought should have been terrifying, but somehow it comforts him. He falls into step beside Emu, who beams at him when he does. She deserves to know. 

“It's strange.” Rui says, as he and Emu sit on a bench in one of the less busy areas of the park. Emu is listening intently, her expression schooled to look serious. “A director is supposed to want to make all of his performers shine to the best of his ability. And I still feel that way, but… what are you supposed to do when there's something different with… with one. What if seeing them shine on stage for the time that you work together isn't enough?”

“I think I get it, but not really.” Emu says. Rui laughs a bit, more at his own expense than at Emu. “Is this about Tsukasa?” And suddenly Rui is blindsided by Emu bringing this conversation several steps further than the one he had started on, cutting past all his rehearsed plans and presentation. 

“Emu, not that I'm doubting your method of deduction but how did you ever—”

“He's important to you.” Emu says resolutely, a visible twinkle in her eyes. “You get all smiley-sparkly when you're around him! And you guys match each other.”

“S— so.” Rui chokes over his own words, trying to recover. “You know that I—”

“Yeah! You likeeeeee him!” Emu laughs, kicking her feet like a kid who was given an ice cream cone, and Rui stumbles all over himself again, his face warming. That wasn't even close to what he was going to say— he was going to continue speaking around it in vague terms, and he might have been happy to do that forever. Leave it to Emu to surprise him. “I'm so happy, Rui! Thank you for telling me!”

“You don't… think it's strange?” 

“Uhhhh… Nope! Not at all! Sometimes there's people who make our hearts go all crazy and fuzzy! That doesn't mean you're a worse director, Rui!”

“Thank you.” Rui feels at least somewhat reassured. He's happy that Emu understood his question, and Emu looks elated. He still doesn't feel like they've hit the crux of his issue. “Maybe I should rephrase. Emu, you… have your dream, right?”

“Yeah!” Emu's tone was more subdued than was typical for her. Her eyes shine brightly, and she has a warm smile on her face. “It's to make grandpa's dream live forever, and make the Wonder Stage a place that brings smiles to everyone.”

“Yes, I know.” Rui says, a fond smile working its way onto his face as well.

“I know you know!” Emu laughs brightly. “And yours is to make a play that can bring people from all corners of the world together with your direction, and make them all smile!”

“Yes…” Rui feels his smile wobbling. He looks away from Emu. She will most definitely know that something's wrong, but he can't bring himself to face her. “The reason why Wonderlands x Showtime shines so bright is because we're all working the hardest we can to achieve our separate dreams. That's how…” 

“Rui, do you want to go to the Wonder Stage?” Emu interrupts him easily. Rui takes a moment to compose himself, but the answer was immediate in his mind. 

“Yes. Let's go.”

“You know, grandpa always said that the Wonder Stage had a special magic power that brought people together, for the time they had to share in the world on stage together.” Emu says. They were laying on the stage itself now, spread out like starfish. The sun was beginning to set. “I thought I understood what he meant when I was a little kid, watching the super performances they put on here. But now… I don't think I actually understood until I met you all.”

“Really?” Rui turns his head to look at Emu. She's smiling at him, her energy subdued but still potent.” 

“Yeah! Everyone is connected by a super cool show, but when they're really connected— it's a whole other thing.” Emu laces her fingers together, as if to illustrate her point. “I understood it the first time all of us were here all at once, when we made our group all official. I was watching the way you were having fun together. And it only made me happier when I thought, oh! I'm a part of this too!” She closes her eyes if seeing it again. Rui lets her continue. “It's like… we were all tied together forever, then. None of us could ever forget about each other, even if we wanted to. We were important to each other, and that was the secret to what grandpa said. But then when we had that talk on the island, I realized that it was going to end one day. I knew it, but I hadn't realized it. And then I realized that even when the show had to end, we would be tied together forever. So it would be sad, but it was okay. I hate it when the sun sets.” She says, looking over to the sun setting behind the ferris wheel above them. Rui looks at it too. “But I know a new day will always come after it.”

“I see.” Says Rui, suddenly feeling like Emu's gaze pierces right through him. 

“Our dreams are the most important thing in the world to us. But dreams change all the time, Rui. I watch the way you and Tsukasa are sometimes. It's like fireworks! It's hard to look away! You're so bright together. It feels weird when I think that you might not always be doing shows with him.”

“It makes me feel strange too…” Rui clutches at his chest. It feels like it's burning. “You and Nene are important to me. I want to keep doing shows together as long as we can. I know that we'll work together again once we part, and every day I look forward to being a part of your lives as you grow into the people I know you can be. But…” Rui sighs. He scrubs his face. He feels like he's on the verge of tears. He has to say it now, or he doesn't know if he'll ever get out of his own head. “I— I can't imagine a better lead for me than Tsukasa Tenma. Every time I imagine the play that finally achieves everything I set out to do— it's him. He's always there. Emu, I know I could do it without him, but I also don't even know if I want to—” he's sat up partway through his ramblings, and Emu is suddenly there as well, wrapping him into a bone-crushing hug. 

“It's okay, Rui. Don't cry.” Emu says, and Rui doesn't even realize that he was crying until she said it. Emu wipes his tears away. “You're okay! You were just so brave right now! I'm so proud of you.” Rui hugs Emu back, lacking any better course of action. 

“I don't feel very brave, because now I can't think of any world where I could tell him.” He laughs a bit. Emu laughs too, rocking them back and forth.

“I know I've been doing all my training for realistic thinking and stuff, but I still think dreaming is the most important. I know you think the same way.” Emu pulls back so they're sitting side by side again, smiling. Rui can't think of a world where he isn't impossibly grateful to Emu Otori for everything that she is. 

“My aspirations were already almost too ambitious before—”

“And putting another person in them seems like it makes sooooo many more chances for things to fall into little pieces and go wrong.” Emu finishes, her voice unwavering and her smile kind. “And your dream is like your whole life for you. It's our whole life for all of us.”

“Y— yeah.” Rui sniffles a bit. “What if he doesn't want to? What happens if we don't agree on the path there? What if our circumstances force us to separate?”

“Then you can shoot past it. Tsukasa and Rui can do anything together! I know because I've seen it!” She doesn't stutter once. Rui blinks at her, trying to comprehend her words. “It'll be hard. Even harder. And it'll probably feel like it can just barely fit both of you, because your dreams are already so big on their own. But you have to try it, Rui!”

“I—” he thinks about it. How it would feel, to finally let somebody else into his dream. He thinks about the warmth he feels every time Tsukasa smiles at him, or Tsukasa takes his hand into his own. 

“Dreams can change, Rui. It's okay. Me and everyone else at the Wonder Stage will be super duper proud of you no matter where you go. It's your dream! You get to choose it! If you want it to stay the same as it was before, or if you want for it to change.”

“Thank you.” Rui says. And he finally finds the strength within himself to smile back at her, even if it's wobbly. “I have to think more. But I don't feel bad about it anymore like I did. Did you know that you're a miracle worker?”

“It's by trade!” Emu says. Rui laughs. The sunset is beautiful, and suddenly everything feels so much lighter. “Oh! I can help you think about it, if you'd like. Your dream and Tsukasa's dream are the most similar already, but there's still some logical logistics that make things difficult…”

“Let's talk through it then. Ms. Otori— professional career counselor.” Emu laughs. 

“Oh! And wingman! Don't forget about that part!”

“How could I?” Rui responds, despite the way his face warms. 

And suddenly being able to laugh about it, talk through it with somebody else makes it feel like there is a world where it could happen. And Rui is growing more and more convinced that he has to try. He thinks about what Nene said, back during their Halloween show: “I'm happy for you,” she had told him, and looked at him as if she saw right down to his core. She probably did, with how long they had known each other. Maybe she saw it coming. Maybe this path was set into motion way before Rui could even realize it.

On his way back home, Rui stops at Nene's house for the first time in a couple weeks. Her parents readily invite him in, ruffling his hair and telling him he could find Nene in her room upstairs. Something about it feels a little bit like coming home. 

“Neneeeeeee.” He draws out her name as he opens the door to her room. Nene's posture tenses a bit, and then rapidly eases.

“Rui.” Her attention is divided, because there's a game currently active on her computer screen. “What do you want?”

“Can't I just want to spend time with my oldest friend?”

“Well, yeah, but I know you better than that. You want something. I can feel you glaring at the back of my head.” 

“Nothing gets past you.” He watches Nene's game character die. She sighs, and turns around in her chair. Rui takes a seat on her bed.

“Rui, are you okay?” She asks immediately upon seeing him. Rui looks at his reflection in her blank screen. It's not obvious, but he does very much look like he's been crying. “This isn't— you can tell me if something's wrong. No matter what it is. I'm not going to make the same mistake I did in middle school.” And that’s exactly it, isn't it? His fears are immediately somewhat assuaged. He isn't worried about parting ways with Nene professionally. They'd fallen out of contact before. But they’re still okay. Rui laughs a bit. Nene looks slightly incredulous.

“I've been thinking about the future.” 

“Oh. I see.” Nene immediately grows a bit more somber, though a small smile is firmly rooted on her face. “It's difficult. And I don't like to think about it. We've already chosen to stay together for a bit longer, right?” She was right. Rui sighs. 

“Nene, all the way back then, when you— you told me you were happy that I found him— Tsukasa— did you know what would happen after that, I wonder?” Her eyes suddenly widen. And then she's laughing. Rui can't help but feel like it's at him. 

“Rui, are you getting all sentimental because you've actually figured out that you have a massive crush on him?”

“I—” she's still laughing a bit. He sees now that it's not without fondness. “Emu knew so I figured you did as well, but I didn't expect to be laughed out of the room.”

“No offense. It's sort of ridiculous.” She says, and then looks at him funny again. “Wait… you don't actually think this is going to go bad for you, do you?” Now it's Rui's turn to look at her funny.

“That's complicated. If it were as you put it, then… maybe. But there's something more to it. Nene, I—”

“Rui.” She says, and stands up from her chair to stand over him. “You think too much.”

“I think a justifiable amount for something this fragile.” Her expression softens a bit at his tone. “I was just talking to Emu about this, so I'm braver than I was before.” He breathes in, steadying himself. Nene waits, because she's a good friend. “When we finally part ways to chase our dreams— I want to be able to chase mine alongside him.” It feels a bit like a betrayal to admit that the person he wants by his side most of all comes from their troupe, but isn't his best friend of over a decade. He opens his eyes a bit, wincing, because Nene has been quiet. She's smiling at him, sadly. As if pitying him. 

“Rui, I meant what I said when I told you I was happy for you. You don't need my blessing, but you have it. And I'm happy there's somebody who'll be there for you. You don't ever deserve to be alone again.” Rui feels tears starting all over again, and because he can be brave sometimes, pulls Nene into a hug. She startles at first, but quickly eases into it. Her shoulders shake. She's crying as well.

“Nene—” 

“Don't worry. I think— I'm just jealous of you, is all. You're so much closer to figuring it out then I am.” She sniffles. Rui pulls her closer. “I still don't know how I'm going to be okay with leaving. And the fact that you can face it so bravely—” 

“I am a year older than you. You still have more time.” He wills his voice to not tremble, because he wants to be a rock for her.

“I'm so selfish, I don't think any amount of time would be enough. Especially not with you and Tsukasa leaving, and especially not with Emu—” she hugs him tighter, as if trying to hide her face. “Oh, Emu… I can't stay for her, the way I wish I could. I don't want any of us to be alone again.” Rui comes to the slow realization that Nene is fighting a battle not too different from his. His heart aches for her. But he knows now that it's something she has to figure out on her own. All he can do is be there for her. 

“None of us ever will be.” He says. Nene pulls back to look at him, disbelieving. “I really mean it. I had a conversation with Emu, about the Wonder Stage. I really do see that it's magic now. The connections we made there will never disappear, no matter how far away we all go. We'll always find ourselves unable to leave it for long. And even if we're not performing together, we'll still be there in each other's lives. It doesn't end at the ending, Nene. I hope you realize that soon.”

“Easy for you to say.” She sniffles. “But thank you. I really should talk to Emu.”

“You should.” Rui says. They both sit down on her bed. 

“Rui… you too.”

“Hm?” 

“You still have to talk to him, right? Good luck.” 

“Thank you.” He says, and means it. They sit together for a long time after that. Rui knows that he has to say something. That he can't let the chance to act pass him by. He's standing on a precipice. In what direction will the dominos fall? He hopes, and laughs at himself for hoping.

Tsukasa is in the midst of a crisis by the time he finally shuts the door of his house with him safely inside. He listens for a moment, ensuring that nobody else is home, and with confirmation that he's alone he slumps down against the door and groans. The issue is that Rui seems to be pervading much of his thoughts, which although worthy of a slightly more mild crisis, has been going on for an embarrassingly long time by now. No, the issue is the nature of those thoughts.

He doesn't know what caused it. One moment they were practicing like normal, and then it was him and Rui backstage. Emu and Nene were going through the scene their characters had together, while Rui had pulled Tsukasa aside for discussion in regards to a series of effects he wanted to use. Everyone was in high spirits, because it was the first time in what felt like far too long that they had a chance to actually put on an original show on the Wonder Stage, between their jobs with other troupes and training and the like. So they were all buzzing with the need to go all out. 

Tsukasa was going back and forth with Rui about the best sorts of stunts to really emphasize what his character was capable of, and Rui was matching his energy letter for letter and putting out concepts that were exactly in tune with what Tsukasa was imagining. 

And then Tsukasa thought, looking at Rui, that he wanted to do this forever. That if there were ever a director who could prop Tsukasa up high enough to finally realize his dream, he would accept no less and no more than one Rui Kamishiro. 

But that was insane. Well and truly insane. His dreams were so big that he couldn't imagine there being room for another person's to exist alongside his. He would never forgive himself if he got in the way of Rui achieving all that he’s bound for, but he also couldn't imagine living with himself if he gives up even an inch of what he’s wanted for so long— what has defined his whole life— for one boy, even if that boy means more than the sun and all the stars combined to him. 

But he can’t get the thought out of his head. Rui with a larger budget, listing off the series of near-impossible stunts he wants Tsukasa to perform. Tsukasa accepting them without thinking twice. A button falling off of Rui's costume just before their biggest scene in front of the largest audience they've ever performed for, and Tsukasa sewing it hurriedly back into place like nothing has changed since they were high school students. The curtain call of the show that finally, finally brings them into the sky with the stars they’ve spent so long chasing, and being able to look across the stage and see Rui there, already smiling at him. All things he can't imagine actually having. 

Then he thinks of Saki in the audience. And realizes that his first instinct wasn't to look for her. 

It's horrible and he can't stop thinking about it. Tsukasa paces around the living room, tries shouting into a pillow. To no avail. His eyes eventually land on the piano, and he wonders how he didn't think of that before. Tsukasa counts to five. He sits at the piano bench. He counts to five. He pushes the cover off the keys. He counts to five and he starts playing, the melody echoing on the walls of their empty house. It's soothing, and it feels the same as it always does despite so much having changed. 

“Helloooooo, I'm home!” The door opens and shuts. Tsukasa pulls his hands back from the keys. “Oh! Tsukasa! I didn't expect to see you home so early!”

“Saki! Same for you!” His day is always brightened just a little bit more for seeing her. She kicks off her shoes, drops her bag, and makes her way over to the piano. 

“I don't see you playing that often these days!” Her cheerful expression gives way to show a pinch in her brows, her mouth downturned in concern. Unacceptable. “Is something wrong?”

“No, I'm alright.” Tsukasa says, beginning to feel both closer and further from alright at the same time. “I'm just contemplating, currently. That's all.”

“Okay. Mind if I join you then?” Saki seems to accept what he told her readily, probably because it wasn't actually a lie. Tsukasa nods, she sits down, and picks up the melody exactly where Tsukasa left it off. He has to scramble to catch up to her. When did she get so good? 

With her band, of course. And then Tsukasa feels like a horrible older brother, because his surprise at how well she plays means it's been a long time since they've done this. They've both been so busy, chasing after their own dreams. He finds himself talking before he can think twice about it. 

“Saki, what do you think about dreams? The aspiration kind.” 

“Oooooh, what brought this on?” She asks, laughing slightly. She doesn't miss a single note despite the distraction. “I think I've learned that what they mean depends on the person, but at the very least I know that they're important. They can make up so much of who you are.” Tsukasa loves Saki no matter what she does, but he especially loves her for entertaining him without really asking for anything in return. “Though you'd probably know way more than I do, Mr. Future World Star. You've known what yours is for so long now.”

“Yeah. I suppose.” Tsukasa responds vaguely and without thinking, still following along with the song. He doesn't know why he's brought up this discussion topic, and why now of all times. But now he's realizing that he hardly understands Saki's dream at all, if he doesn't even know what she thinks of the concept of dreaming. “You're aiming to continue to play professionally with your bandmates.” 

“Yep! Making sure Leo/Need succeeds is super important to me.” Saki responds without missing a beat. “And you're going to be a star.”

“Yes. I will be a star.” Tsukasa responds with some amount of pride. Saki smiles back at him, because she's known this for most of the time they'd been alive. She was the first person Tsukasa told. It was a goal created with her in mind. 

Tsukasa feels very much like this conversation has gone in a circle and provided next to nothing of substance. He sighs, bringing his hands off the keyboard and into his lap. The music stops entirely. He feels Saki looking at him, but Tsukasa can't bring himself to look at her. “Saki… do you think that dreams can change?” Tsukasa realizes what he's saying as the words come out of his mouth, words that even he doesn't know the true meaning of— “Uh, oh, nevermind. It's certainly nothing you need to be concerned with, hahaha!” His attempt at his usual bravado falls pathetically flat. There's a long moment of silence, and Tsukasa almost believes he's gotten away with his small lapse in judgement. Then Saki sighs in a way which sounds well and truly exhausted, and firmly puts the cover back over the piano keys. 

“Tsukasa. This is clearly bothering you more than you want to think.” Tsukasa hasn't heard this tone from Saki before. She's serious, deathly so. He finds it hard to look her in the eyes. 

“If it's an issue, then it's my own. I have it under control—”

“You always do this! Why?” Saki shouts, Tsukasa flinches, and then Saki's expression pinches, like she didn't realize that she was shouting and was sorry for it. Tsukasa bites down the urge to insist that she has nothing to feel bad for and that it’s his fault. “It's just— Tsukasa, you're such a good brother to me. Maybe even the best. But you seem to forget that I'm also your sister.” Her words are coming out faster now. Tsukasa is at a loss for what to do. “And I know I'm younger, and I've spent most of my life so oblivious to everything, but you don't seem to realize that it's okay for you to depend on me, too. And my advice might not be the best, but I've also lived a whole life by now, and I know so much more about the world and how to live in it than I once did, and I just really… really, really want to be there. So please.” Saki is resolute, and Tsukasa is struggling with the force of her words. 

“Saki…” he takes her hands into his own. She glares at him, as if anticipating him to deflect again. If Tsukasa is honest with himself, deflecting is exactly what he wants to do in this situation. He can't even find the words for what's bothering him himself, he doesn't even want to know how trying to explain it might change the way Saki views him. “Okay. I'll talk to you.” But in his hands he has the very thing which brought his dream into being. If anyone deserves to know, it's Saki. It always came back to Saki. 

“Good. You're not getting out of this.” She says, releasing his hands. Tsukasa knows it's every bit as much of a threat as it seems. “So. Dreams changing. They can. Tsukasa are you— do you not want to be a star anymore?”

“No! No. Certainly nothing like that.” Saki looks almost relieved. For some reason that sends a pang of guilt through his chest. He still feels like he's betraying his dream. “It's— I've always wanted to be a star, Saki. At first to make you smile, and then to make the whole world smile. It has changed, but… the core of it has always been the same.” Saki nods. She looks a bit lost, and Tsukasa is sorry that he can't explain it better. Rui would have the words. He squeezes his eyes shut, forcing his thoughts to not stick on that point. “A dream is an aspiration, a prophecy you dedicate your life to fulfilling. That's how I've always seen it.”

“Of course you see it that way.” Saki smiles at him. “That's just like you.”

“Yes. But… Saki, do you think— do you think that a dream can be more than that as well?”

“Tsukasa, ask me what my dream is.” He blinks at her. She seems sure of herself. A bit apprehensive, he takes her up on her request. 

“What's your dream, Saki?”

“If you asked me a couple years ago, I would have said to live a normal life. I still think that holds true today.” Saki says. Tsukasa feels his eyebrows raise. Very far from the answer he was expecting. “Back then there was something I wanted as well. But I was too scared to say anything, then. Not anymore. My dream is to be able to stay with Honami, Ichika, and Shiho forever.”

“But your band—”

“Is so very important, but not a requirement. I've only gotten serious about going pro recently, you know.”

“It's—” he staggers under the weight of the admission, and the fact that his own narrow perspective let him misunderstand Saki so fundamentally. “Your dream is— it's a people.”

“Yeah.” Saki says, simply. A fond look overtakes her expression. “Does that help you?”

“Saki. Saki, I think I'm having a revelation." Saki laughs at him, but he's serious. He's reeling, his mind scattering in all directions. But they all go back to Rui. It's possible, then. Guilt wells up in him again. Why? He wants to understand. Saki is here and willing to help him. “Saki. Let's say, h— hypothetically, that you had a goal which your entire life revolves around.” Saki nods. He breathes and continues. “One which defines the way you interact with the world on a fundamental level. One which you have people that you need to achieve it for. But then— what if— if suddenly the way you see it changes. And there's another person there, when you're so used to it just being you, and you're relieved because you were so lonely facing it alone, but the fact that they're there means that everything has changed.” Tsukasa breathes deeply. He's making a conscious effort to not allow himself to process what he's saying, because there's no way that he'd be able to keep going if he did. The long pause that Saki decided to take is not helping. 

“This is about one of your troupemates.” She says, both very sure of herself, and also like she's making an attempt to not scare off a skittish wild animal.

“...Yes.” Tsukasa says. Saki nods. 

“Is it… is it the one I'm probably thinking of?” She knows, and Tsukasa knows that she knows, because of course she does. 

“Fuck, of course it is.” Tsukasa laughs. He scrubs a hand down his face. Why is it so hard to say? “Saki. I'm forgetting what it's like to imagine a future where he isn't there. Isn't that horrible?”

“No.” Saki says. Simple, earnest, and to the point. Tsukasa's eyes shoot open to look at her. She looks concerned. “Tsukasa… this isn't— you don't feel like you have to get my permission to change your dream? Or to have somebody else in it?”

“No! Actually— I don't know. Probably…” he pauses. Thinks. Tsukasa sees the way guilt sits heavy in his chest. Summoning what courage he has left, he decides to grab at it. “Saki. It's… I'm here because of you. I'm doing this for you, at least in part. What this implies… it would seriously alter my path moving forward. It might delay it. I might be denied it entirely. How would I live with myself if… If…” Tsukasa feels like crying. He probably is crying. 

“What do you want, Tsukasa?” Saki asks. She takes his hands into her own. 

“I— I want to be a star. I want to see you smiling. I want everyone in the world to smile at least once. But I also want Rui to… I don't just want him to be there. I want him to do it with me.” It feels like a knot held deep inside of him has been undone. Suddenly the tears won't stop, and Saki is holding his hands, keeping him from wiping them away. He sits there exposed, for the selfish person he is. And then Saki embraces him. 

“You love him.” Saki says, and Tsukasa clutches at her cardigan and almost wails.

“I do, and I don't know— it's going to make everything harder for us. He has his own dreams, and Saki, oh god, we're both men, I didn't even—”

“It's okay.” Saki says, pulling back from their hug to look at him. “It's okay, Tsukasa. It doesn't change the way I see you.” Tsukasa doesn't know what to say, this wasn't a conversation he ever foresaw happening, and not one that he really had words to partake in. “I guess mom and dad should give up on grandkids.” Saki laughs, almost bitter. Tsukasa blanks. 

“You— you too?”

“Yes. I thought you would have put it together.” She said, laughing brightly. And suddenly many things which were confusing about Saki before make complete sense.

“Your bandmates—”

“It's a work in progress, but I'm getting there.” Saki laughs. Tsukasa laughs too, a bit incredulous. “It probably won't be an issue for us. The music scene we're in is very accepting.” Tsukasa is overwhelmed with a sense of overflowing pride. Saki had grown to be so brave in a way which even he couldn't be. 

“But for me… the very DNA of being a star means that I have to exist in the public eye—”

“There's plenty of gay movie stars— can I use that word?” Tsukasa thinks for a moment. He only really likes Rui. There has never been anyone before Rui, and he can't imagine there being anyone after. 

“It's— accurate. And that's true. But there's a certain— they're looked at differently.”

“Then you can keep it a secret, if you want. It'd create a certain intrigue— world famous star Tsukasa Tenma and his director of ambiguous relation outside of work titles, who accompany each other throughout the extent of their careers and live together in a one bedroom apartment after they retire.” Saki laughs. Tsukasa laughs too, his face flushing. “You have to keep the tabloids guessing.”

“You make it seem like a foregone conclusion.” He finally wills his blush down so that his face doesn't feel like it's actively burning.

“That's because it practically is, if you want to be.” Saki sounds so sure. Tsukasa wonders how she could be, when even he's not. “You just have to be willing to take that leap.”

“It's— Saki, I don't know…” Saki nods, her face suddenly solemn. “What do I do if it doesn't work?”

“Then you follow the path of your dream the way it was before,” she says. And that is still an option, Tsukasa realizes. Even if it hurts. “Or you pick up the pieces and make do with what you have. No matter what, I'll always be proud of you.” 

“Saki…” His voice is breaking again. Saki pulls him into yet another hug, and he all but melts into her. She makes it seem so easy. She really is the light of his life in so many ways— a well of comfort he can always draw on. Nothing would ever change that. Somehow he's only now beginning to actually believe it.

They end up talking the rest of the night. Tsukasa puts his problem out of mind, because though he feels he can rest easier now, the solution has still yet to take shape. He has acknowledged he's on the precipice, but which way he falls— he still needs to think. When he falls asleep that night, he sees Rui smiling at him, at the end of every curtain call they've had together and stretching into the future still undefined. In those fantasies, he looks at the crowd afterwards and sees Emu and Nene waving at him. He also sees Saki wearing a knowing smile. 

Rui sees the Wonder Stage in his dreams. It certainly isn't the first time it's appeared, but he never remembers seeing it with so much clarity. Before the lines of it were blurred, with no clear indication of where it started or ended. Now he was sitting on the edge of it, like he might have been in reality. It was twilight, he felt strangely light, and everything was beautiful. 

He turns to his side and sees Kaito sitting next to him, very much in the real world and very much like a real, tangible person. Rui tries to speak, but finds that he doesn't have the words to. Kaito speaks instead. 

“I know that I'm a creation of his, and so I'm not a part of you. But you've factored into my existence in so many ways.” Kaito laughs a bit, awkwardly. The sound puts Rui at ease. “So I hope I'm not overstepping my bounds when I say that I'm really happy you've finally accepted part of your true feelings. I know it's been a long road to get this far. I know you haven't decided what to do from here. But I'm proud of you.” Kaito smiles, and it's bright and genuine. Rui mirrors his smile. The Wonder Stage is firm underneath him. 

“Thank you. I've always looked up to you as a director, so I value your approval greatly.” 

“You know, Rui. I was originally created to be Tsukasa's idealized version of a director.” There's a twinkle in Kaito's eyes as he speaks. It's vaguely familiar. “But over time I've grown more and more to resemble you. We're different in many ways, of course. But it's interesting, isn't it?” Rui almost considers dismissing the notion. But then he recognizes the twinkle in Kaito's eyes as his own. “Haha. You see it now, don't you?”

“I—” Rui sees it. He sees it in so many ways he didn't before, because he wasn't looking. It opens a dam he didn't know he had built inside of himself.

He sees Tsukasa in all their time spent together. He sees the way Tsukasa looks at him, again and again. He watches the moments of hesitation, the time they spend side by side, the enthusiasm with which Tsukasa accepts him fully for exactly what he is. 

“Rui, you know what you want, right?” Kaito's voice rings out again, melodic and earnest.

“Yes.” He says, feeling a bit breathless. 

“Good.”

Tsukasa dreams that he’s waking up on the Wonder Stage. He can see its outline in his peripheral vision, but mostly he knows the distinct familiarity of the way it feels underneath him. The sun is setting. It’s strangely quiet. He's at peace in a way he doesn't remember being in a long time.

“Hey, hey Tsukasa! It’s time to get up!” Suddenly Miku's here leaning over him, corporeal despite where they were, her twin-tails falling over her face in a way which makes Tsukasa think she looks very much like Saki. 

“What are you doing here?” He asks, not to be rude, but because he genuinely doesn't understand. Miku laughs, and it sounds like the tinkling of bells. 

“I'm here to congratulate you, silly! You finally realized an important part of your true feelings!” Tsukasa sits up, his head feeling much clearer when he does. Miku sits down next to him. “You've fought so hard to be here! I was rooting for you the whole way, you know!”

“Thank you.” The moment feels important. The world does not ripple around them like Sekai does whenever he makes an important admission, and that's almost surreal.

“Mhm! We all really like Rui in Sekai, you know.” She says, kicking her feet as she speaks. Tsukasa barks out a laugh.

“Is it because I really like Rui?” 

“Hm.” Her hesitation surprises him. “Sort of? The Sekai is yours, but its parts are influenced by its other visitors as well. So we do like Rui because you do, but also… The unique bond between the two of you has made the Sekai an even more fun place than it was before. A connection that's equally strong from both connections is super strong.”

“So it's—” he pauses. Thinks. She had said that it was mutual. Tsukasa felt his world spin a bit. “Miku, does that mean that he feels the same way about me? Does it mean that—”

“I can't say for sure. I meant what I said and nothing else.” She says, and looks almost sorry about it. “But you know what you're going to do, right?”

“I think so.” He can't imagine wasting his chance to have his happy ending. 

“Then good luck! I believe in you! I leave it in your hands!”

Rui is directing Tsukasa through the steps of a dance on the school rooftop. The sun is setting, people are beginning to leave as after school clubs wrap up for the day, and Rui is not concerned about being home in time to study for his upcoming exam. Their next show involves several scenes taking place in a ballroom, and thus they had taken it upon themselves to get familiar with the motions of it. 

It was an interesting sort of arrangement. Tsukasa was the one in the leading role of the dance, but Rui knew a bit more about how the movements actually worked. Rui was delivering instructions that Tsukasa was implementing in live time, and despite how backwards it felt, it was working. Rui wasn't sure that anyone but the two of them could do it. 

They’ve reached the stage where they’re only occasionally stepping on each other's feet, and Tsukasa is guiding them in wider circles around the rooftop than he was before. He looks focused, his eyebrows evenly set and his breathing even. The whole situation makes Rui's heart feel like it's about to hammer out of his chest, and for once that's a good feeling. He is completely, truly enraptured by the light of the star that is Tsukasa Tenma. And for once there's no sinking feeling that comes from acknowledging himself. Tsukasa spins them in a wide loop and Rui laughs for no reason in particular. Tsukasa suddenly looks at him, having the pure state of his focus broken from the sound. Rui almost apologizes when Tsukasa lets go and takes a step back, but then he's taking Rui's hands in his own and spinning the two of them in circles like they were kids. 

They're both laughing now— Rui finds no small amount of joy in the way the air rushes past his ears and everything around him falls out of focus except for Tsukasa and his warm hands and bright smile. He almost wonders what anyone would think if they found the two of them like this. It makes Rui start laughing all over again. 

And then Tsukasa stumbles, and they both fall rather inelegantly to the floor. 

“Rui! Are you alright!?” Tsuksasa is loud enough that the people on the ground could probably hear him. He had scrambled up immediately and was now standing over Rui.

“Yes, are you?” Luckily he had landed awkwardly instead of painfully. Rui sits up, and his shoulder only pops once, which is better than it is getting out of bed in the morning sometimes. 

“Good. I'm alright! It'll take more than that to topple a star of my caliber!” Rui readily takes the hand which Tsukasa offers him, stands, and takes advantage of that momentum to pull Tsukasa into a clumsy spin. Tsukasa looks at him, his hair a mess and a little bit baffled, but with a wide smile on his face. “Wasn't that what led us to the floor?” He seems almost breathless. Rui feels similar looking at him. 

“You won't let it topple you, but it will let it stop you from practicing? I expected more dedication from you, Tsukasa.” Tsukasa glares at him, and Rui laughs. It's true that he thinks the practice will do them well, but really he just doesn't want the day to end just yet, even though he knows he'll see Tsukasa again tomorrow.

“Wh— I'll show you!” Tsukasa's tone is annoyed, but he hasn't stopped smiling. He sets his hand on Rui's waist like it's natural, intertwines their fingers like he wants to do it. Rui responds in kind. They're dancing again, but this time it's at a slower pace. They're much closer than they were before, and Tsukasa's eyes are firmly set on Rui's. 

They're doing much better than they were. Rui can see Tsukasa in his role now— the gentleman thief spins his various victims around the ballroom while in easy conversation with them, gathering intel on the whereabouts of the treasures without them even realizing it. It's the same heavyset determination, the same intensity. Rui feels like he's been swept off of his feet and into the world of a high stakes mystery. Tsukasa has a gift for what he does. Rui probably knows that better than anyone.

“Was that good enough for you, director?” Tsukasa is smiling smugly, because he knows that it is. 

“Hm, I don't know, I might have to have you repeat it three or four more times just to be sure—”

“Rui!” Rui laughs. He takes Tsukasa by the hands and spins him again like they were earlier, a bit more carefully this time. Tsukasa is looking at him like he's gone insane, but they both know that ship has sailed a long time ago. 

“Yes, Tsukasa. You were amazing.” Tsukasa shakes his head at him, but he's smiling. It's getting darker. They're going to get physically kicked out of the school if they don't leave soon. 

They keep spinning, because they're both breaking further into delirious laughing and it feels amazing. 

The two of them when they were unrestrained like this always did. The euphoria of being together was never limited to just their shows and their roles on stage. It’s something bigger. 

It's the better part of the world to Rui, in a lot of ways. His dream is always a step closer to coming true whenever he can be with Tsukasa like this. He can't believe it took him this long to realize it.

Rui should really tell him soon. The fear had not vanished entirely. The road ahead for them was still unclear, nothing was set in stone. But he's happy to enjoy the moment while it lasts.

It was mid-evening, WxS had just finished their last performance of their most recent show a couple cities away from home, and Tsukasa and Rui have retired to their shared hotel room for the evening after a lively feast with the rest of the troupes they had been working with and their debrief with the rest of their group while the show was still fresh in their minds. 

There's something to be said about nights like these, when Tsukasa is in a good enough mood that even he immediately starts tossing the more uncomfortable outer pieces of his show costume to the floor with reckless abandon. When the night is still young, when Tsukasa and Rui are still talking about the show because it's the two of them so of course they are. They both faceplant into one of the beds, and then they turn to face each other and laugh. Tsukasa can't think of a better way to spend his youth, or to spend the rest of his life. There's his character, the roaring applause, all the people it took to get him there, and then there's him and Rui. Tsukasa wants to hug him, so he does. Rui hesitates a moment before he returns it with the same amount of energy. Every part of Tsukasa tingles with happy satisfaction. He stops just short of cupping Rui's face with his hands as they part. 

Because he doesn't have everything he wants. Not yet. Tsukasa stands up from the bed and stretches his arms above his head. The heavy cape he was wearing before limited his movement in that regard, and regaining it felt good. Rui sits up, and Tsukasa winces at the amount of times that his back cracks. 

“Is that a new record for you?” He says, more vaguely amused than anything else. Rui hums, running a hand through his hair. There’s still gel in it so it sticks up at odd angles. 

“Not quite. It's off by two. I'm sure I'll beat it someday, though. You better be there to congratulate me when it happens, Tsukasa.” Rui grins at him in that vaguely sinister way of his and Tsukasa shakes his head, though he offers him a hand up from the bed. Rui takes it. They've paused their discussion of the show by now, though Tsukasa knows they'll both take it up again sooner than later. Tsukasa's eyes fall on the yet unused balcony door of their room as he turns around. They were lucky enough to get one of the rooms that had them, and five floors up at that. It was an amenity that had been forgotten amidst the whirlwind of their show. 

“Hey, Rui. Do you want to check out the balcony?” It was there to be used, after all. 

“We should see the view, shouldn't we?” Rui says, taking a step closer to the door. Tsukasa isn't far behind. “It's not everyday you get to stand on a balcony, after all. I wonder if it'll provide any inspiration.”

“I certainly don't think that a show that takes place on balconies is a bad idea at all. They make me think about watching the world from an outside perspective, so maybe we could even—” his words die in his throat as he pushes aside the curtains and opens the door. From the perspective they were offered, the city was backlit by the setting sun, and it’s stunning. 

Tsukasa steps out into the tiny space it offers him, and rests his arms on the railing as one has to do when standing on a balcony. Rui is quick to take up the spot next to him. Their shoulders are touching, and Tsukasa can feel his gentle breathing through their points of contact. Words are a foreign concept for a moment. 

The city seems like such a large place. And it was this place they had taken by storm with their newest production, which their show brought people here to see. 

“It feels so different from our city.” Rui's voice is gentle as he speaks. Tsukasa finds himself leaning closer to him unconsciously.

“I want to keep going to new places and seeing things like this.” Tsukasa announces his intentions to the city, the world, the setting sun, and to Rui. 

“I hope I will too.” Rui moves his hand so it rests against Tsukasa's on the railing. And it might have just been the atmosphere of the night, but Tsukasa feels like he gets a glimpse into the future that he hopes they'll have together in that moment. The high of the show is still fresh, they're dressed down to the most practical parts of their costumes, and wherever they end up in the world they'll be able to look out on it, side by side. Maybe this balcony was the stage for their story. Maybe Tsukasa is losing his mind a little bit. He's still thinking about the way Rui had looked at him during that curtain call, with his eyes wrinkling at the corners with the force of his smile. It was dazzling. Tsukasa wanted him to look at him like that again and again forever. 

Tsukasa needs to act, while he still has what he wants within arm's reach. He knows that better than anyone. If he wanted this future so badly, it's in his nature to reach out and grab for it. 

But he also wants this moment, right here as it is. Tsukasa absorbs it. Draws it in as a source of courage. 

Rui knows what he wants. He wants the world, and he wants Tsukasa Tenma. Those two things are not mutually exclusive, and he is not a lesser director for chasing what he wants. He wants their shared stage and their shared ritual at curtain call. He doesn't want to forget how it feels to thrive under Tsukasa's warm gaze.

Tsukasa has always had issues articulating why he wants the things he does. That notion does not apply to stardom, and it does not apply to Rui Kamishiro. Even if he cannot see the path he'll take to get there, he can see the horizon. He wants to stand on the edge of the horizon with Rui, hand in hand, and have no regrets for the journey they took to get there.

Rui wants to watch the stars together as they drift off to sleep. He wants Tsukasa to try to sneak vegetables on his plate, he wants to show him every invention he creates, he wants to spend late nights talking about show ideas.

Tsukasa wants to wake up to Rui every morning, to brush the knots out of his hair and have Rui dress his wounds. He wants to see him in so many cities, illuminated by the light of so many sunsets. 

Rui wants a bigger budget, he wants to be able to make stunts that nobody has ever thought of before for Tsukasa to perform. He wants the world to see their shared genius and understand who they are.

Tsukasa wants to see the maniacal glint in Rui's eyes as he presents his ideas, and Tsukasa wants to see the surprise written on his face every time he accepts without questioning him. 

Rui wants Tsukasa to look at him during the curtain call of the best show they ever do. Rui wants for them to both run across the stage to meet each other, to embrace under that light—

Tsukasa wants to take Rui's hand underneath the spotlight as they both bow after the show that realizes both of their dreams. He wants to feel—

Rui wants to help Tsukasa take off all the difficult pieces of his costume and to see the boy he loves beneath the veneer of whatever character he plays. To take his hand freely—

Tsukasa wants to present Rui to the world as his partner, in whatever way the world ends up interpreting it. He wants to stumble back to their room after a show and to sleep in the same bed—

Rui wants the world but he also wants a script covered in notes with two distinct styles of handwriting.

Tsukasa wants the world but he also wants theme park employee passes that are so worn their print is fading.

He wants time—

The school rooftop—

The Wonder Stage—

A promise—

A kiss—

A shared dream.

Tsukasa and Rui are at the Wonder Stage, which is not at all an atypical situation for them to find themselves in. It's unambiguously night, and the closing fireworks show is already underway. They've just finished putting on a show which will be their last here until however long it is before they return, because they've yet to schedule any as they're still coming off of the success of this one. All of their props and gear have been put away, and they parted warmly with Emu and Nene as they both set off for home. They will see each other again tomorrow. 

Tsukasa and Rui are sitting at the edge of the stage, because neither of them were ready to leave just yet.

Rui stares ahead, watching the fireworks light up the sky because he could still only count on one hand how often he had seen the closing show. 

Tsukasa watches the fireworks as they're reflected in Rui's eyes, because he can't imagine them being any brighter in the sky. 

And then Rui turns to look at him. Their eyes meet. Tsukasa doesn't look away after being caught staring, even as he feels his face begin to heat. Their knees are touching, and Tsukasa finds the feeling grounding. 

Rui, for once, turns to find Tsukasa already looking at him. He wonders how many times this has happened, and Rui hadn't known because he never thought to look back. Tsukasa's cheeks are pink, and Rui feels a little bit like he's losing his mind. 

Tsukasa isn't sure if it's the high of coming off of a successful show or the notion that he doesn't know when they'll both be here again that makes his chest ache with the words he has yet to say. This is the place where everything began, and where it would someday end. That ending is still distant, but every day he feels it getting closer. Truly he doesn't even know how much time he has left. Regardless of how much it is, it'll never feel like enough. It'll fly by so quickly, and soon they will leave this place behind for the next generation of performers to take up. But Tsukasa never wants this to stop feeling like his place. 

Rui thinks that the Wonder Stage is every bit as magic as Emu's grandfather insists that it is, as he understood it in the stories carried by the most devoted of his descendants. How could a place be the birthplace of all this light and not be a little bit magic? How could it have brought their group together and not feel satisfaction for the difference it made? He knows he’ll miss it endlessly, when they leave for good. Nothing can last for all of eternity, but if anything could Rui thinks it would be the bonds he created here. He doesn't want to leave. But he knows that he'll always come back, like he had told Nene before. The ending isn't the end.

Tsukasa looks at Rui, and thinks of the person he will someday be. He knows Rui will be every bit the director he's striving to be, because in Tsukasa's eyes he's already so much closer than he realizes. He wonders what Rui will look like, when he grows into an adult. He wonders if he'll cry at graduation. He wonders if he wants Tsukasa to be there to see it the way he wants to be. 

Rui sees Tsukasa, and sees the outline of the man he will someday become. He's already a star, but Rui can't imagine a world where he doesn't shoot past the others to become the brightest in the sky. He wonders if people will ever stop saying that Tsukasa Tenma hasn't changed one bit since his childhood. He wonders if Tsukasa will look across the stage to find him at their graduation like he does on every other stage they've been on. He wonders if they'll hang behind once it's over, to see that rooftop one last time. He wonders if Tsukasa wants to hold his hand as much as Rui wants to hold his.

“Rui.” Tsukasa doesn't know how else to start this conversation, so he operates on instinct the way Rui always says he's best at. Rui's looking at him again, with a renewed sense of something in his eyes. Sometimes when he looks at them, Tsukasa feels like he's looking into a mirror. This is one of those times. “Do you remember that conversation we had on the deserted island?”

“We had a lot of conversations on that island.” Rui says it in his joking sort of tone, but Tsukasa knows from the sad smile he's wearing that he understands exactly what conversation that Tsukasa is referring to. Of course he does. “But there's probably only one you could be referring to. It was about dreams.”

“Y— yeah. That's the one.” Tsukasa's heart is hammering in his chest, a rhythmic pattern complimented by the booming of the fireworks just above them. “I've been thinking about it a lot. Probably more than I should be.”

“It's hard to not think about it.” Rui says, matching him without even trying. “It changed everything, didn't it? I don't think I've ever been able to see our time together without the veneer of parting since that day.” Rui breathes sharply. Tsukasa can see that he's aching. Tsukasa knows because he is too. Rui's hands are clenched into fists, and acting without thinking he takes them up into his own. 

They could stop this now. They're not too far in that Tsukasa can't take back what he's already said. 

He summons all the courage he has, all the strength that being so close to Rui gives him, and pushes forward. 

“Rui, what does your dream mean to you?”

“I—” Tsukasa rubs circles into Rui’s wrists with his thumbs, and tries to control his breathing. He understands his role as an actor, his power to push past the limits of what's expected of him in every way, to hold his heart up to his audience until everyone could see its shape. But Rui is a director. And it's the director's job to dictate how far he's allowed to go, to determine what would be best for the whole of the performance. How vulnerable Rui is in his response will change the shape of the conversation irrevocably. Tsukasa hopes, though he doesn’t know what he's hoping for. “You probably know this by now, Tsukasa, but it's everything to me. I can't imagine that I would have ever had the chance to stand alongside you and the others without it. It's existed at the very heart of the person that I am for so long now.”

“I'm the same.” Tsukasa says, even though Rui knows this about him by now. Even though most everyone he's met knows. Rui had faced Tsukasa directly at the challenge that he was given. Tsukasa doesn't know why he expected any less from his dearest director. He squeezes Rui's hands. Rui looks unsure, but he squeezes back. “From the very moment I decided I would become a star, it made me who I am now. And there's nothing that could make me give that up. The world could end tomorrow and I'd still want to be on stage.”

“Of course.” Rui laughs a bit. A firework blooms in the sky behind him. “If anything I believe a show is what would have the power to save the world, especially with you as the lead. Then we could wake up the day after and continue to put on more.” Rui's eyes had drifted shut partway through his musing, as if he were imagining it. Tsukasa could see it too. The idea could even be a show in itself. 

“Would you want to direct shows, even after the world ends? Even if there was almost nobody left to watch them?” Tsukasa asks the question without thinking, he doesn't even really know what he means by it. But it makes Rui smile, so he doesn't regret it.

“Without question. If there were even a small chance that I could reach one person, I would. That includes myself. If there were any way my art could possibly make the world feel less alone, I'd throw myself at it the same way I do now.” Rui pauses for a second. Tsukasa feels like his breath is caught in his chest. “But it's strange… I can't seem to imagine being content doing my shows alone anymore. I can't help hoping that if the world were to end, you would also still be there.”

“O— oh. Oh!” Rui's eyes are a mirror. Tsukasa can see every part of his spoken desire reflected back at him, and it makes him feel so vulnerable that it hurts. “Of course I'd be there. Any show our director performs, I'll always audition for the lead role. I think I'd even rise from the ashes just for a chance to be your lead again.” 

“Tsukasa, you can't keep saying these things.” Rui brings his hands up to cover his face, but by proxy of their current arrangement he brings up Tsukasa's hands as well, and that just makes the burning in his chest grow even worse. 

“Why can't I? I mean it. Truly. There's no place I've ever felt more comfortable than playing the lead in one of your plays.” Rui almost sobs. The feeling of frustration has returned full force, because he's so close. So close to having what he wants, but he still doesn't have it yet, and he doesn't know how to reach for it. “Rui, if you don't want to hear it I'll stop.” He sounds so earnest. He always is. “But I want to know what's bothering you. You could tell me anything and it wouldn't change how I feel.”

“What if I wanted it to change how you feel?” His voice is weak. He can barely hear it himself. But when Rui brings their hands from his face, Tsukasa's eyes are wide and there's this terrible hope in them that makes Rui wonder if he'll ever be alone in anything that he feels with Tsukasa by his side.

“Then— then I'll have to hear out your suggestion before I decide.” Tsukasa moves just a little bit closer. “The director and the lead have to balance each other out, in that way. I can't blindly run into everything as much as I trust that you would catch me.” Tsukasa is right, as he so often is. Rui has accepted his altered dream into his heart despite his fears about what it meant for himself. But he couldn't make it come true without Tsukasa willing to play his part in it. Rui feels like he’s holding the entire balance of the shape of his future in his hands. He’s holding the hands of this boy, who is in so many ways all his ambitions given a human form. And somehow he’s still even more than that. 

“I've become a better person and a better director for knowing you. And I know I've said that before, but it really is how I feel, Tsukasa.” He breathes. Tsukasa is looking at him with wide eyes, and Rui's heart beats impossibly faster. “You've inspired me in so many ways. There's so many roles that I've thought up that I can't imagine anyone but you playing. I look at you and I wish that school rooftops and ferris wheel rides and the Wonder Stage could last forever. I'm happier than I've ever been. I don't think I'll ever be alone in the way that I was before even if we do part, because I know that wherever I am you'll be out there somewhere in this same world.” There's tears welling up in his eyes, blurring the night sky and Tsukasa and the fireworks together in a display of dazzling light. He tries to blink them away.

“You're beautiful, Rui.” Tsukasa says, as if that admission doesn't send him reeling. As if it doesn't make all of this harder. Rui searches Tsukasa's eyes for any hint of exaggeration, but finds none. “And you're so brave— a— and kind, and gentle, and creative. I don't think I've ever met anyone that makes me feel quite the way you do. Like I'm on top of the whole world and I'll never be alone again, because I'll have the memories of the time we spent together.” Tsukasa's eyes have a wet sheen to them. Rui knows he's never going to take any of that back. Rui doesn't think he will either. “I've always wanted to be a star, but you've given me the guidance to see how long a road that is. But also the confidence to believe that I really can follow it to where it ends.”

“You've made sure I understand that I don't have to compromise on anything when it comes to my dream. I can create all the things I would like to, and there would always be at least one person out there who would be willing to match me for who I am. I don't ever want to give that up.” Rui's voice is breaking. He's so close. So close that he can hear Tsukasa's breathing. It makes him feel alive.

“Rui.” Tsukasa says, tugging on his hands. It draws Rui out of his stupor, just a bit. Just enough to look at Tsukasa's face. “What are we doing?” 

“Reminiscing, I believe.” Rui says. And he hopes it's not just that. If he has to pull back even a little bit, Rui feels like he's going to shatter into a million pieces. He gets the distinct feeling that Tsukasa would collect those pieces to put him back together, and that's an excellent idea for a show as well. “Tsukasa. I don't want this to end. The thought of us all parting ways isn't as scary now as it once was, now that I'm beginning to better understand what the Wonder Stage means to all of us, and what it means to grow up. But even so, I— I—”

“Rui.” Tsukasa says. There are tear tracks down his cheeks. Every part of this feels like too much.

“Y— yes.” Rui barely manages to breathe out his answer. Because he does see Tsukasa, with his bright eyes and unwavering voice, who's looking at him with his pupils blown wide like he's the most beautiful thing he's ever seen. Fireworks screech into the air and burst around him. Rui feels breathless. Tsukasa lets go of his hands, and Rui almost feels his heart sink before he uses both of his to guide one of Rui's to his chest.

“Can you feel my heart beating?” Rui can. It's somehow going even faster than his own, if only by a bit. It's a stunning reminder of their shared humanity. Of the humility of their forms in contrast to their dreams. “I wonder if yours is—” Rui snatches up one of Tsukasa's hands and brings it to his own chest. His eyes widen even more, and his face is almost as red as Rui feels like his is. They speak at the same time. “What is this?”

“What are you trying to say?” 

The fireworks show is almost over. The brief silence marks the preparation for the climax, for the grand finale. Rui and Tsukasa stand side by side on the precipice of both of their lives changing for good. Amidst the sporadic nature of beating hearts and fireworks and the Wonder Stage beneath them, of endings and beginnings, of the world and every star in the night sky, there's a shared thought. They both know where this will lead them. Neither of them want to pull back.

Tsukasa can't afford to lose the chance for his happy ending. “I love you.”

Rui wants to take on the world by his side. “Stay with me forever.” 

There's a sharp intake of breath on both ends.

“Tsukasa I love you too, I love you so much that I don't know what to do with myself sometimes—”

“Rui! Rui, I'm so happy! I can't imagine the show that'll make my dream come true with anyone else as the director! You've ruined me for everyone else, I want to stand on the same stage forever—” 

They both stop, realizing they're speaking over the other. And laugh. The last of the fireworks explode in the sky. Tsukasa reaches out to wipe Rui's tears away, and Rui melts into the touch. He doesn't let Tsukasa pull back at all before Rui's taken him into his arms, and Tsukasa laughs as he hugs him back in a way he hopes communicates all the happiness in the world, all the relief a person could possibly experience. 

“It'll be difficult.” Rui murmurs into his ear. And Tsukasa knows that it will be. He knows with the way that they are and the goals that they've set for themselves that nothing will ever be easy for the two of them. He wants this regardless.

“We'll overcome it every step of the way. I know we can if it's us.” Tsukasa believes it fully, Rui knows both because of the tone of his voice and because he's the same. The world was cruel, but they both loved it regardless. Neither of them would ever stop loving it. 

Tsukasa pulls back to look at Rui's face, and Rui holds onto him because he doesn't want to let go. The end result is them rolling onto the stage, laughing as they went. They both pull back.

They're laying on the center of it, with just enough distance between them that they can see each other. The fireworks show is done, the park is closed, and they'll both get in trouble if they stay for much longer. But the fireworks show ending only means that it's easier to see the stars. 

Rui looks at Tsukasa, and Tsukasa looks at Rui. All pretenses have been stripped between them, and they are exactly as they are. 

“Tsukasa.” Rui says, barely a whisper. He places a hand on Tsukasa's face. 

“Yes.” Tsukasa says, placing his hand on top of Rui's. They both move to occupy the distance between them, and it really is so easy. 

The stars shine above them as they kiss once, and then twice, however long as they can without needing to breathe, and however many as time would allow. 

Time does not stop for them, and they'll see each other again tomorrow, and every day after that. But they both want this moment. They both want the world, and they want each other. Neither of those things exist without the other. And suddenly that isn't a world-ending thought anymore. It just is.