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“So at one point, I stopped calling
In a few weeks, we’ll stop talking
‘Cause I’d rather break my own heart
Than to let you be what caused it.”
—Sydney Rose, I Stopped Trying
“They could be so beautiful to each other. They could be so cruel.”
― C.G. Drews, Don't Let the Forest In
Music blasted on the other side of the doors. Mizuki stood before them, mind already halfway back inside the car and driving off. I’m already here, might as well get it over with. She thought. Except she’s already forgotten what made her come in the first place.
After receiving the invitation in her inbox, she stared down the laptop screen as if her eyes could burn the thing down.
In a blur of passively showering, dressing, and preparing, she arrived before the gymnasium doors—at the high school where she’s made both the worst and best memories. It was like Schrodinger’s cat in a way. If she didn’t open the door, she could imagine there was nobody inside and she could go home guiltlessly. If she did? There were a million possibilities she didn’t want to consider.
But she knew that An would most certainly be in attendance. Akito and Toya with her, too. Nene… probably.
If only Ena were here.
The invitation specifically stated that no attendees besides the class of 20XX were permitted to attend.
Well, that’s good anyway. At least it means he won’t be here.
A twist in her stomach stopped her hand on the cold metal. To hell with it. She’ll spot An and make a beeline straight to her; probably hover around her side while making fun of Akito. In front of Toya, too. Ha. Extra points for damage. Giggling to herself, she took that as her chance to enter, swinging the doors apart.
Inside, the music blared even louder. Colored spotlights meandered in random directions. The shiny silver decor glinted in blinding reflections. It was fewer people than she expected, but the conversation seemed lively. Classmates who have since lived in the background of her mind resurfaced, changed by the passage of time and surrounding tables of dwindling snacks and drinks. In one corner, An, Akito, and Toya were huddled together.
An was laughing heartily with another pair of students Mizuki couldn’t recognize. Mizuki smiled and didn’t hesitate to join, calling out for An.
An choked on her laugh and turned to the sudden shout of her name, then beamed once realizing who it came from. “Mizuki! It’s been a while!” she said, grabbing Mizuki’s arm and pulling her into the circle.
Her hair’s been dyed with red highlights, making her amber eyes appear almost darker, with a braid that rings itself around the back of her head. The black, well-fitting dress wasn’t anything less than what Mizuki expected from her.
Now freshly out of high school, An told Mizuki she’d like to experiment more with her hair. Though she’d probably go bald soon, Mizuki encouraged it like any friend would. If it went well, then good! If not, it was a lesson learned.
The red is a welcome difference, although very stark. Last time Mizuki saw her, she tried bleaching it—that was a lesson learnt. Never again. Both of them came to a consensus there.
Mizuki smirked in Akito’s direction. He shivered with a grimace as Toya smiled politely back. Finally, the pair of random students drifted off to another group, leaving the four.
Akito’s hair is still as mussed as ever, but has started to dip into brown and away from his patent vibrant orange. Mizuki knew that from Ena, but seeing it for herself was funnier. “Wow, lil’ bro. Really returning to your roots, aren’t ya?” she snickered.
Akito rolled his eyes, tugging on a thin leather jacket. “Glad to see you too.”
“Watch the attitude,” Toya chided. He doesn’t look bad for himself either—hair middle-parted and elegant. He returned to Mizuki, eyes sharp enough to cut if he were more similar to Akito, but dulled and softened by their greyness. “Akiyama, how have you been?”
She blinked at the question. How has she been, truly?
If you’d like to know, I’m exhausted, overworked, and my thoughts are all running at breakneck speed. But, yes, overall just fine. A drink would probably help. An actual drink.
“Just fine.” Summed it up pretty well.
As the conversation wore on, Mizuki felt her social battery drain drastically. Maybe it was time to clock out early, go back to sleep, and forget this day ever happened. They’d understand, right? Sher made her necessary appearance; now her duty was done. Nothing left to say.
Looking around for an excuse, that’s when Mizuki spotted it.
Nene was near the entrance, a plastic cup in hand. But that’s not what—or who, for that matter—Mizuki was focused on. A taller man stood before her. A man who shouldn’t be here, was specifically not meant to attend. But he was there on the other side of the room, back turned against Mizuki, like the ending scene in The Blair Witch Project.
It was Nene who caught Mizuki first. She blinked, pupils dilating for a brief moment until she turned to Rui, whispering. Before Mizuki could catch a glimpse of his face, she returned to An, hands clasped as if she were giving a presentation on the spot. “You know, actually, I… um. Bathroom, yeah. I feel like using it, and… yeah.” Escaping from the grasp of their concerned and questioning faces, Mizuki booked it out through the back exit—it was the closest.
When she exited, she saw the pummeling rain before the sound overpowered the now muffled music coming from inside. Of course. Of all convenient times. She stood under the awning and bit her bottom lip hard as she watched the rain continue its downpour.
She could run across the field back to her car, but ruining her expensive makeup and the outfit she spent hours picking out was definitely not an option. Neither could she reenter all fine after telling such a half-assed excuse. Even worse, what if Rui—
The doors creaked ajar. Mizuki flinched and spun around—and was met with what she’d been running from all this time, all these years.
⋆. 𐙚˚࿔ 11 YEARS AGO 𝜗𝜚˚⋆
The air was cleaner from up here as the world was quieter. A few clouds scattered across the waning orange. One could call it heaven. If not, it was certainly heavenly.
A nice place to soften painful news.
“Back here again, huh?” Rui mused, sitting crossed, back against the chain link fence.
Mizuki sat adjacent, hugging her knees. She laughed rather half-heartedly. “It is a nice place. Peaceful.”
Rui hummed in agreement. Silence resumed.
Glancing behind her, Mizuki had never been one to fear the height. Maybe a bit initially, but whatever fear there was has since dissipated like smoke. She was quite fond of the bird’s-eye view of the city, watching miniature people go about their lives. She felt like a guardian angel protecting them all from above.
But it was an attempt to distract herself. Distract herself from the next words that will come from Rui. From the inevitable. From next month.
Rui will leave. Mizuki would stay.
“Nothing will come between us again, I hope you know that,” Rui said suddenly, snapping Mizuki out of her trance. “You have my number. We can talk anytime you want. I’ll reach out.”
Mizuki didn’t dare to look at him. Didn’t want to see that hopeful, earnest look on his face. She wouldn’t cry, she told herself that; begged, almost. She tried to answer before her voice choked into sobs. “Y-You really don’t have to reassure me so much. I’ll be fine!” she said. “An’s still here. Toya, too… Nene, Akito, I… I won’t be alone.”
“I know that. But that’s not what I’m worried about.”
“What is it, then?”
He stood, then paced a few certain steps around the rooftop, like a Roomba following a set path. At once, he stopped and walked to the fence—looking to the waning sky as Mizuki stared at the bustling cityscape below.
“I know our relationship has been… fraught.” There it is again. That word. Relationship. Did he understand what he did to her when he used that? The implications? For such a genius, he doesn’t consider semantics all that much. “But, I… I worry.”
“You’re always—”
“It’s different this time. I think,” Rui said, speaking listlessly. Ranting. “But maybe I want to believe it’s different this time around—that we’re different. Hope is a fickle thing, yet I grasp for it always.” He turned to face her, an expression Mizuki couldn’t describe. Nostalgia? Regret? Pain? None of the words seemed right, like a feeling that lived beyond the boundaries of language. “I want to believe that we won’t drift apart again.”
When he finished, Mizuki realized her fists had been clenched this entire time; reddish half-moons imprinted in her palms. Was she angry? Certainly not… “And if we do?”
Rui’s eyes darted to the skyline, a strange, impassive look clouding his face. “Then… I won’t let you go. I’ll call you. Whether you answer or not, that’s up to you, but I will try. More than I did last time.”
Yet that wasn’t a promise. Nothing was set in stone that day; no solid words were spoken.
Rui did call. Mizuki didn’t say she would answer. This happened every other day until the calls and messages stopped.
⋆. 𐙚˚࿔ PRESENT 𝜗𝜚˚⋆
“Mizuki,” he said. Rui, usually stoic, was a flushed mess; every racing thought visible across the subtle twitches in his expression. “You— how, no. Are… N-Nevermind. Hi.”
Around them, the rain intensified into a hail of bullets. Her car was too far to make a run in this weather. Mizuki gulped and steeled herself.
“Hi…” Mizuki replied. She eyed the befuddled man looming over her. There were a few new lines and noticeable eye bags under his makeup, but truly, he didn’t look bad. She’d go as far as to call him beautiful. “You’re… You’re not doing very bad for yourself. Visit the fountain of youth much?”
Rui didn’t laugh, too busy absorbing Mizuki, afraid she’d disappear if he blinked. “I can say the same of you.” He tried to laugh, but it only came out disjointed. “What have you been up to recently?”
We’re really going with the ‘meaningless small talk’ route, huh?
“Just… Developing my fashion brand, ha. Steady progress and all that.” She bit on her lip, wanting to end this. “H-How did you even get in? You’re not supposed to be here.”
Rui smiled bashfully. “You see… Nene didn’t want to go alone. So, I snuck in with her—which turned out to be less of a challenge than expected, seeing the lack of security… or teachers for that matter.”
Mizuki nodded, pretending to find it funny. The rain filled the silence that followed, steady and merciless. Every drop sounded like the seconds of a clock they’d both ignored for too long.
“We haven’t spoken in a while.” Again with that—we. Us. Like they were still a two-in-one deal. Together. As if they ever had been an us or we these past few years. Why’d he even feel the need to point that out? Did they already run out of things to say?
Her hands clutched. The rooftop was distant, probably being consumed by the rain, but she felt as if she were up there. Rui brought back too many memories.
“What do you think we are, Rui?”
For the first time since Mizuki had known him, Rui Kamishiro, ever the bright inventor, was put at a loss. His mouth hung open, face paused.
“That’s exactly what I thought.” Mizuki stood to leave and reenter the party, but the sudden warmth and force on her wrist stopped her. Rui let go.
“You can’t leave like this,” he said. His brows furrowed, cheeks red. “Not after asking that and without my formal answer. Don’t run again. Not before I’m done with what I have to say.”
“What is there to say?”
“That I’ve missed you dearly. That every day, when you used to live in the forefront of my mind, you remain in the fissures and backrooms of my mind. Never once have you not cropped up in my thoughts, even if vaguely so.”
He stepped closer. Mizuki didn’t move away. “I don’t know what we are now, Mizuki. But I know that we used to be friends. And… maybe I wanted us to be more. And maybe I still want that now.”
Distance can do damage, and so does time. Metal corrodes, wireless earbuds get lost across seas, and dust and silence claim ownership over abandoned houses. The eternal clock can erode even the strongest of foundations when given enough time, whether it be years or decades. In millennium, most of what we know now may be gone.
In the decay of something, be it alive or inanimate, there grows new life.
It is in this moment that Rui realizes such. How little time he has left. If not now, then when? When the core of their relationship has decomposed, buried in the soil to rest without it ever blooming? When Mizuki has become but another stranger?
His hands took both sides of Mizuki’s face. Her pupils dilated before she breathed a relieved yes. Then, the crashing of his lips on hers. What followed is the shared warmth, the rain pelting stronger against the roof.
When they pulled away, Rui held her still. He looked pained and relieved—like the aftermath of ripping off a well-worn Band-Aid.
“Why didn’t you answer?”
Mizuki wondered the same before, yet she couldn’t figure out why she didn’t. She recalls the times her phone screen lit up with Rui’s name, and how she merely watched until it went black again.
She told herself, there’s always next time. Until next time turned to never, and here the two were today.
Maybe she broke her heart first before he could. Maybe she couldn’t bear the thought of him. Maybe there was no answer.
So, there was no satisfying conclusion. Nothing she could say could explain her actions, or what was going through her head those days. But the events have already been played out, and nothing else could take it all back.
“I… I…” The words croaked out before Mizuki choked on them. Her lips trembled as the tears began to pool on her eyelids.
Rui didn’t need any further reason to close the distance and pull Mizuki to him. Here was the warmth she missed so much. Here were the mornings until afternoons she spent skipping classes under the fading sky. Here was loneliness and companionship.
And love.
Maybe there was love, too.
And she missed it all dearly.
She held onto his sweater like a kid learning to ride a bike—about to crash and gripping the handlebars as if it would stop all time.
She stayed. She wanted to stay forevermore and never let go. She wonders why she ever did.
Neither of them knew what would emerge from this, if they were hurtling into eventual pain. But maybe that’s the point in hope. In taking risks. Even if it is a dip into the black unknown, it becomes a comfortable submission when they had each other.