Chapter Text
Almost a week has passed.
The sun shone brightly across the land; the wind moving softly as if trying to excuse its ignorance.
Walking down the stone staircase, he gazed at the stones around him with the engraved names of other loved ones. Taking a deep breath, he made his way through the path.
Reaching the grave, he set down the basket that contained a cheap bottle of wine—the one he hated most—with a wine glass. Setting it on the grass beside the grave, he placed a single white camellia on top of the stone.
Taking out the bottle, he opened it up and poured himself a glass, swirling it while taking in the scenery. The cemetery had a calming view of the waters—the breeze and sounds of the waves feeling something soothing today.
No words could be spoken, or rather, he didn’t know what to say. The sea filled the heavy silence, steady and strong while he took small sips of wine that burned down his throat.
He didn’t even like wine, but it felt wrong not to buy the bottle when walking through the grocery store. He didn’t know why it felt wrong to not bring it. Regret, maybe?
Things shouldn’t have been like this. Things should have ended differently. They could’ve been right now walking along their favorite path next to the beach, talking about anything and everything. Instead, one’s forever in a deep slumber while the other waits for the next 30 days to end.
“Are you sure you have everything?” Rimbaud hovered, checking over the boxes in the trunk, making sure Chuuya left nothing behind before heading off.
“Yes dad,” Chuuya rolled his eyes. “Everything's packed up.”
Starting college life, Chuuya will be moving in a bit earlier to the dorms. Just to settle in and all. He’s been working his butt off for this scholarship at Tohoku University, and he is going to make the best of it.
Rimbaud's eyes softened, “I’m just worried about you, mon trésor... Do you have your inhaler?”
“...In my bag.”
Rimbaud stared warily. Eyes linger on Chuuya's duffel as if he could see through the fabric and confirm it himself.
"And your pills?"
"Yes..., it's not like you've let me forget." he grumbled.
Chuuya knows his father is just worried for him, but he's eighteen now. He can take care of himself. He hated how often they asked.
Hearing the front door open, both men turn around to find a petite girl holding a brown bag. Stepping forward, she held the small bag out with both hands.
"Onii-san, for the drive. I made you a sandwich."
He blinked. "You didn't have to, Kyouka."
Kyouka stared calmly, eyes softening and tone lovingly she said, "You forget to eat when you're nervous."
"I do not."
Rimbaud and Kyouka stared at him in silence.
"...Maybe, sometimes," he muttered, picking up the duffel bag from the trunk. "Thanks, Kyouka."
She nodded lightly. "Text me when you get there."
"I will."
Rimbaud cleared his throat, suddenly looking serious. "Call me, don't just text me. I want to hear your voice as soon as you arrive."
Chuuya sighed, though it held no real annoyance. "I will..."
A heavy silence settled between them. The car sat in the driveway, trunk open and the sun reflecting off its shield.
"You've worked hard for this," Rimbaud said quietly. "I'm proud of you."
Chuuya stiffened a bit, caught off-guard by the sudden comment.
Kyouka nodded in agreement. "You studied every night. Even when you were tired and could barely pick up a pen."
He looked away, scratching his neck while feeling embarrassed. "Well..., someone had to make up for Koyou being the family's genius."
"Koyou would say the same thing." Rimbaud replied.
Another silence enveloped them. Though, this time, it was a warm silence.
Chuuya turned from them and closed up the trunk with a firm push. "Alright. If I stay any longer, I'll never leave."
Surprising him, a thin pair of arms wrapped tightly around his waist. Chuuya turned around, and placed a hand on top of Kyouka's head.
Her hug was brief but it held a lot of feelings.
"Be careful," she murmured.
“I will.” Chuuya smiled softly, patting her head.
Rimbaud hesitated for a second before pulling Chuuya into an even tighter embrace. "Call me. Eat properly. And try not to overexert yourself."
"Yes, dad."
"And if you feel unwell—"
"I'll go to the clinic."
"And—"
"Dad," Chuuya said, smiling faintly. "I'll be fine."
Rimbaud slowly released him, looking a bit misty-eyed, "I know. But you'll always be my little boy."
Chuuya clicked his tongue. "I'm already eighteen."
Rimbaud shook his head, but there was a softness in his eyes.
After finally letting Chuuya go, he went to the car's driver's seat. As he went inside, he placed the bag on the passenger's seat.
"I promise I'll call when I get there."
"We'll be waiting." Rimbaud said.
Kyouka gave a small wave.
Chuuya returned it, turned on the engine and pulled out of the driveway. Through the rear view mirror, he could see the house getting smaller, the figures of his father and sister standing by the gate until they became unrecognizable shapes.
The road was a long one—four and a half hours to Miyagi, to a new city, a new life.
Chuuya turned on the radio, instruments filling in the car's silence. He let it play, tapping his fingers to the beat of whatever song was playing on the steering wheel.
Rumbles of excitement and anxiousness twisted together in his stomach.
"College, huh.." he muttered to himself.
The sea appeared in the distance as the highway curved along the coast, sunlight dancing across the water.
He had no idea just how his life was about to change.