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Rui has two phones.
One of them is his regular phone — a simple thing, sleek and housed in a rather stiff case. It has all the important contact information that he’s already memorized, and all the documents that he’s saved on two different hard drives, and all the games he never plays. This one has accompanied him for only a year, and it’s what he uses in front of all his classmates’ peering eyes.
The other, though, is smaller. More worn. Rui has to hold its charger just the right way or else it’ll refuse to work altogether, and the small crack along the bottom of the screen has bothered him for ages. Regardless, it looks regal in its blue and gold patterned casing, labelling constellations that he already knows. This one was acquired a little too recently, and it’s one that he keeps tucked away in his room.
It’s safer that way, he figures. Easier to keep it close to his heart.
Rui only opens his gold and blue phone on days where the hole in his chest gapes particularly wide — close to swallowing him, but not quite as merciful. No, it feels like there’s a monster in his ribcage, feeding on all the broken pieces of himself he thought he’d filed away. It’s poetic in a way that makes his throat seize up, and then it’s a song in the way he has to choke back the empty emotions swirling in his gut.
The phone digging grooves in his hands is the only thing tethering him to reality on these days. It is an awful, lonely reality, but it is reality nonetheless.
He mindlessly taps in the passcode, waiting for a few seconds while the phone struggles to match his pace. When it does, he’s greeted by a constellation on the home screen: a pegasus, though he knows the boy named after it is long gone. He’d taken Rui’s heart with him, because there was no one else in the world to whom it belonged.
Rui’s hands move on their own, digging for the files that he already burned on hard drives and saved in folders and backed up on three different devices. Stardust trailing into ash, ash inseparable from dust. The files are exactly where Rui knows they are, so he hits play and props the phone up on his crappy desk.
Almost immediately, the little voice on the phone makes his heart thud with the same thing as always: pain, joy, the smell of spring, the sound of hospital machines. The words are tinny and nearly warbled when they reach Rui’s ears, but he knows them by heart anyway.
“Ahem. Test, test. Rui, can you see me?”
“Just fine, my prince,” Rui responds, voice dropping an octave or two. “Just fine.”
The golden-haired boy on the screen beams. “Delightful! Alright, let’s get started. Today’s lesson is over how to make friends!”
At that, Rui just laughs, propping his head up with his elbow. “Don’t I already know how to do that? I’m friends with you, aren’t I?”
“Of course, I know we’re already friends! However, I want you to be able to make ten more— no, a hundred more! I want you to put yourself out there more when you get the chance. You’re too splendid of a person to not have more people know you.”
“Hm… is that so. And what about you, Tsukasa-kun?”
The smile on Tsukasa’s face freezes, turning into a small huff. The crack along the screen just slightly obscures the way he’s twiddling his thumbs. “W-well. Consider it making friends in my place! With my advice, everyone will be clamoring for you!”
Rui laughs despite himself, feeling his chest swell. “Yes, my prince.”
“A-anyway!” The screen crackles a little as Tsukasa takes a step back, buffering a bit more heavily than Rui would have liked. Still, maybe it’s not too bad; it gives him a chance to look at his prince a little longer, after all. Some time to take in the kindness in his eyes and the little blemish near the bridge of his nose. “We’re going over basic introductions today. As your teacher and best friend, I, of course, will be your acting partner! Ahem. Hem, hem.”
Rui slumps over in his seat, hoping Tsukasa can’t see the affection pouring out of him. Really, it’s a mystery how he keeps a straight face; he wants to smile when Tsukasa brings out that silly pegasus title, and then he wants to laugh at the overly confident expression Tsukasa wears when he finishes. The golden-haired boy on the screen is lively, and he’s wonderful, and he’s so incredibly out of reach.
“Now!” Tsukasa’s voice shakes Rui out of his thoughts, bold as ever. He turns to the screen with a glint in his eye that Rui knows he can never match, and he extends a hand that Rui only wishes he could take. “Your turn, Rui. Keep my example in mind and make your own introduction! Don’t worry if it’s not as good as mine — you’ll get better in time, I promise.”
“Sure,” is all Rui can bring himself to say. “Hello. My name is Rui Kamishiro. I’m… a sophomore in university now. Studying robotics. It’s nice to meet you, my star.”
He didn’t match the timing well enough. There are a few drawn-out seconds as Tsukasa patiently waits, then bursts into applause. “That was a very good start! Keep it up and you’ll have a hundred more friends in no time! Now, we’ll move onto conversation basics…”
The thing is, Tsukasa’s not much of a conversationalist himself. He asks questions that no one does in real life — “How many fans do you have? I have over a thousand, you know!” — and yells a bit more than he talks — “I AM! EXCITED TO MEET ANOTHER STAR!” — but it makes Rui stay beside him all the same. He laughs at some parts, teases at some parts, smiles at the rest. The boy on the broken screen replies in earnest, reaching out a hand that Rui will never touch again.
“What’s your favorite color?”
“...Yellow, perhaps fading into pink. The same color as your hair.”
“That’s a very good color! I don’t have a favorite, but I do like blue and purple! Next is… your favorite food. What do you enjoy eating?”
“It used to be soda candy. I still can’t stand vegetables, you know.”
“I see, I see! What a wonderful food. I quite enjoy ginger pork myself, though I like acqua pazza too. And, um… do you have any hobbies?”
“I do. I like… making robots. And putting on shows. And… spending time with you.”
“A-ha! That’s very cool! Perhaps we could do those things together sometime. I, personally, like putting on shows! Whether it’s a stage play or a musical, I’ll take them all on! The last question is… yes! May I have your number so we can meet again?”
“Of course, my prince,” Rui murmurs. “You already have it. You already… have everything.” Everything, everything. All that Rui is, Tsukasa holds in his star-blessed hands.
Tsukasa beams at him once more, striking a pose that Rui can only describe as dramatic. “And there we have it! You’ve successfully made a friend, Rui. Congratulations! With me as your instructor, there’s nothing you can’t do!”
Rui laughs. “Thank you, Tsukasa. I learned a lot today.”
“And!” Tsukasa walks a bit closer to the camera, fumbling a little with the screen. “I have prepared many other tutorials as well. You’ll find them all in the files saved on this device! If you ever need a refresher, come back to watch any time!”
“I will.”
“Don’t miss me too much in the meantime! Have a good life, Rui!”
The video ends with Tsukasa smiling and waving at the camera. When he plays the last few seconds back, the heart monitors in the background beep a little, like they’re telling Rui that he’s running out of time.
No. Like they’re telling Tsukasa that he’s running out of time.
…How awful. They had him dressed in hospital gowns until the end, didn’t they?
Rui slumps over his desk, stewing in the silence of his room now that Tsukasa’s no longer on the line. Surprisingly enough, it doesn’t hurt as much as it used to, though he’d be a fool to say that the feelings in his chest are any less monstrous.
…How long has it been? Rui should visit the Tenma family. Perhaps Saki will smile when she sees him, pulling him into the house to talk about the concert she and her band put on. Perhaps they’ll have him over for dinner, and Toya will be there, quietly recounting his adventures with his own friends.
Whatever the case, the phone blinks a few times, beeping at Rui to fix the angle of its charger. Somehow, Rui obliges, and the pegasus wallpaper stares at him once more. He can’t help but laugh. Fussy little thing.
Perhaps it, too, knows how the story ends.
His star has long fizzled out and died. And yet, fool that he is, Rui revolves around Tsukasa, drawn to their promise of “almost.” Caught in an inescapable orbit, bound by a star that has already imploded. Its charred remains are seared in Rui’s memory, occupying a part of himself that is all too small for the galaxy to fit in.
The star with honey-tinted hair and golden eyes is no more, and Rui’s planet can’t help but be engulfed. Such go the last few words in his cosmic ledger, drawing the curtain on their two-person stage.
…Rui stands, grabbing his own phone from where it sits abandoned on his desk. He has no class today, but he has a few errands to run. The laundry will not fold itself. His notes aren’t quite organized yet. The grocery store closes in an hour.
Perhaps he’ll make a friend today. Perhaps not.
He’s still working on making a hundred friends, though. Tsukasa asked him to.