Chapter Text
Harua doesn’t know why the dreams started. He doesn’t know if they can even be called that—dreams. Is it really just your brain playing tricks when you meet real people inside your mind every night, people that you don’t know but who exist nonetheless, and when every interaction you have with them has an influence on their very existence?
At the beginning, he didn’t think much of it. Sure, it was kind of strange the first time he dreamed of a random girl he didn’t know crying in the corner of a mall he never visited in his life. Even stranger when she started telling him about the fight she had with her boyfriend in incredible detail, showing him even more incredibly detailed pictures of said boyfriend, and when he did his best to comfort her because he felt compelled to help even though he could have simply walked away. It wasn’t in Harua’s nature to leave someone alone with their pain, not even someone his brain completely made up.
Except it did not.
The next day, Harua was wandering around his local mall looking for a present for his mom, stepping into every store to inspect their displays and sighing loudly after seeing the amount of zeros in the prices. On the contrary, his best friend Maki seemed to think everything was the perfect gift, his enthusiasm not faltering even after an hour of strolling around the place, or even after entering what was probably the sixth home decor store of the day.
“What about this, Rua?” he exclaimed, smiling widely like he was holding pure gold in his hands.
Harua glanced at him and rolled his eyes. “Maki, I’m not buying my mom a…”
He saw her before he could finish his sentence. The girl from his dream was standing just a few meters away from them, looking exactly like she had in his mind down to the mole on her chin and the cute panda keychain hanging from her bag. She was talking excitedly on the phone while looking through a pile of scented candles, and she looked way happier than she had that night, and they were in a totally different mall, but it was her. No doubt.
The shock almost made Harua drop a glass he didn’t remember holding, causing Maki to laugh as he gently removed the object from Harua’s grip. “Woah, careful… If you want to break something, do it at home where you won’t have to pay for it.” Harua barely heard him, though.
How could it be? He was certain he'd never seen that girl before dreaming of her, but there she was in front of him. He blinked once, twice, ten times, but the girl was still there. He removed his glasses and scrubbed the already perfectly clean lenses with his fluffy sleeve before putting them back on, and sure enough, the girl had not disappeared.
Harua watched her put a candle back on the shelf and exit the store, catching a faint “I’m glad we made up!” just before she was completely out of sight. I’m glad we made up. She had told him about a fight with her boyfriend, in the dream. This simply couldn’t be a coincidence anymore... right?
It took Harua weeks and several people like the girl with the panda charm to understand what was happening, but he does now. He sees people in his dreams, real people with a real problem, and he’s supposed to help them solve said issue. When he stops seeing someone and moves on to another stranger, that means the problem is solved—at least he’s pretty sure of it. And these people have no recollection of ever seeing Harua, which he learned after a very awkward encounter he would rather not think about ever again. He’s like their personal therapist, except he’s free, he’s the only one who remembers their “sessions” and he’s just a nineteen year old student (languages, not even psychology) who doesn’t really know what he’s doing.
He kind of enjoys this strange job, though. It’s fulfilling, it makes him feel important, so he never really questions the strangeness of it all. Not to mention it started happening right after Harua and his (ex) best friend stopped talking in a rather upsetting way, and so prevented his nights from being filled with nightmares of razor sharp eyes and words that hurt like knives.
Yeah, this is pretty nice, he thinks, patting the head of the little girl he’s sitting next to. He’s been with her for a few nights now, and knows this one will be the last.
She turns around to look at him with a big grin, hair sticking out the top of her head like a cute little apple—she must be seven at most, the youngest person he’s met so far. “Thank you for helping me, mister Harua! Can I tell you a secret?” she asks, a playful light dancing in her round eyes.
Harua smiles. “Of course, what is it?”
The little girl gets closer to him and pushes away a strand of his recently dyed cherry red hair so she can whisper her secret directly in his ear. “Don’t tell anyone, but there's a boy in my class I really really like. His name is…”
"Rua?"
The sound of Maki's voice wakes Harua up before he can hear the end of her sentence. The little girl and the bench they were sitting on have vanished, leaving Harua with nothing but a strange taste of biscuits in his mouth and a secret he will never know. He’s back in his bus seat now, his ears filling up with the chitchat and laughter of his classmates around him. He moved a lot during his sleep—that or the road was very bumpy—because one of his earphones has fallen in his lap.
“You know I hate when you wake me up,” Harua whines, frowning at Maki.
“Well, my bad,” replies the blonde boy, “but we’ve arrived and I’m scared they might have just left you there if I didn’t… And it’s only two in the afternoon, too, so it's not your bedtime yet.”
Harua can’t help but let out a chuckle. “Well, I’m still not going to say thank you.”
The little girl and her big round eyes are already fading from his memory, and he feels a little pinch in his heart at the thought.
The reason why they’re sitting in a bus right now, though, is that Harua and his classmates are going on a week-long trip in a town on the other side of the country, and even though it’s not going to be the most life-changing trip of his life, he’s excited to put the pressure of classes and exams aside for a little while.
The bus doors open and students start walking out, happy to finally get some sunlight after the long trip. Harua can’t contain a smile when he notices Nicholas and Euijoo, his two friends who recently started dating after months of mutual pining, holding hands and exchanging shy glances as they get off.
But not even two seconds later, Harua’s smile drops. His stomach is suddenly heavy, his throat feels like he just swallowed a rock, and he doesn’t really know if he’s still breathing right.
Harua is aware he should be over this by now, months after it happened, but seeing his ex-best friend still is still comparable to being shot in the heart every time. Today, even with the excitement of the trip and his current best friend smiling brightly next to him, is no exception.
Harua doesn’t think he will ever be over Yuma.
He’s completely frozen, staring as Yuma gets up and retrieves his bag from under the seat, taking in every detail of the boy that was once his closest friend.
His bangs are long, cascading over his sharp, cat-like eyes like a dark waterfall. (He told Harua he wouldn’t dye his hair black again, back when they were still talking, but he must have changed his mind. Harua thinks black hair suits him the most.) His pink lips curve into a smile, which soon turns into laughter caused by whatever joke Taki just told him, and it shows a glimpse of his pointy fangs—just like a cat. (Harua has always loved Yuma’s laugh. It used to be his favorite sound.) There’s a new plush keychain hanging from his bag, a cat wearing an otter costume he got from Taki. (“Couple items”, according to Taki who got himself a matching octopus one. Harua knows he said it as a joke, but it still left a bitter taste in his mouth.)
Harua decides he will be over Yuma in a week.
He has to. He simply can’t let his heart turn into expired pudding (ugh, why did he think of pudding) every time he sees a certain someone that won’t even breathe in his direction anymore. Harua does not care about Yuma at all. Nope. And this week-long school trip in a city he’s never visited before will be the perfect occasion to take his mind off him once and for all.
Despite that, Harua’s cheeks heat up instantly when Yuma’s eyes briefly meet his, and it’s only when the other boy has exited the bus for good that his feet decide to start working again.
˚₊‧ ꒰ა ⊹₊⋆⭒˚.⋆ ໒꒱ ‧₊˚
Before the forty or so students can enter the inn and officially consider the trip started, two of the accompanying school staff make them stand in front of the building while they announce the room arrangements for the week. The stone walls cast a long shadow on their faces, preventing the sun from attacking Harua’s poor eyes with its dazzling rays. September has settled in for good, but it feels like the bright star in the sky has decided to make the last few days of summer memorable, and the number on Harua’s weather app is still way too high for his taste.
He feels nervous, too. The teacher in charge of logistics for this trip didn’t let the students pick their roommates besides asking them for a list of people they wouldn’t mind rooming with, and Harua doubts these lists weren’t put in a dusty drawer and forgotten as soon as they were collected.
He didn’t even need that list anyway—he has Maki and his few close friends, of course, but he gets along with pretty much everyone in his year. What he really needed was a paper titled List of people I absolutely do NOT want to room with under any circumstances, with a single line to write on because he only had one name in mind. He would have written that name in big characters, with the thickest pen he owns, then he would’ve underlined it, highlighted it in bright yellow, circled it, framed it with pointy arrows and shoved it right under the teacher’s nose to make sure the message went across.
But this, of course, did not happen. All Harua can do is stand still and pray the universe agrees to do him this one little favor.
Please. Just don’t make me room with him.
One of the staff members—Yudai, a former student who stayed working at their school until he gets accepted in a famous dance institute—starts enumerating names; there are three to four people in a room, girls in the left wing and boys in the right wing to make it easier. The list is long, and after several minutes Harua still hasn’t heard his name. Now he’s starting to get really bored on top of being nervous, but at least Maki is still standing next to him, which makes him hopeful they won’t be separated. The two exchange a look when Euijoo ends up in a room without Nicholas, and Maki raises an eyebrow as if to say Damn, that was unexpected. Harua gives them a day before they ask for a room change.
More minutes pass and only a few people are left now—Yuma included. Their other friends Taki and Jo (who seem to have become Yuma's new best friends) have been called already, but not him. Harua doesn’t look up from his feet anymore, because less people means it’s much harder to keep his eyes away from his ex-best friend but also to look at him without being caught.
“Room seven,” Yudai finally announces. “Shigeta Harua…”
Harua’s head shoots up when he hears his name, silently urging his the former student to hurry and add Maki and two random guys to the lineup so he can finally get to his room and breathe. Yudai is nice—he used to be Harua’s tutor and helped with his homework multiple times in the past, and Harua would even go as far as calling him a friend. He can do him one more little favor, right?
“Riki Maus…”
Harua grins and high fives his best friend, instantly feeling lighter. Maybe he was worrying for nothing and the universe has decided to be kind to him this week. After all, there are enough boys left to fill one or two more rooms, and seven is a lucky number, isn’t it?
“Nicholas Wang… Nakakita Yuma.”
Right. Seven is also Yuma’s birthday, so Harua shouldn’t have counted on that. He risks a look at the dark haired boy and finds that he doesn’t look much more enchanted than Harua. He’s blowing his cheeks slightly, fidgeting with the headphones around his neck and looking everywhere except in Harua’s direction.
Harua sighs as he welcomes back the lump in his throat, and follows Maki inside the building with defeated steps—he doesn’t even have the heart to smile back at Yudai when he walks past him. Getting over his friendship with Yuma when they have to share a room for the entirety of the trip promises to be a real challenge.
The four boys get the key to their room and climb the stairs without a word from Yuma or Nicholas, quietly leading the way. The latter is probably frustrated about being separated from his boyfriend, and who knows what’s going through Yuma’s head right now. Probably not many nice things.
Harua knows Maki is itching to say something about the unfortunate situation, but he stays quiet aside from a few complaints about the creaky stairs and the weight of his suitcase.
“I told you not to bring too many clothes, but when do you ever listen to me?” Harua whines.
He’s spoken louder than he meant to, and Yuma’s head twitches a little as if he was about to turn to him but caught himself on time.
Once they’ve finally reached their room, Harua watches as the dark-haired boy struggles to open the door with little annoyed noises that resemble cat meows more than a human voice. When he’s flustered or irritated, Yuma always moves his head slightly backwards with his eyes closed and his mouth wide open, which makes him look even more like a kitten—if that’s even possible. Back then, Harua found it so cute that he would purposely find ways to piss Yuma off trying to trigger this adorable expression, and it worked every single time.
Harua definitely doesn’t find it adorable anymore, though. Since he’s (he will be!) over Yuma and all that.
The door finally opens once Nicholas chimes in to help and the boys quickly claim their beds: the bunk bed on the left is taken by Yuma (at the top) and Nicholas (at the bottom, since he’s not particularly fond of heights) while Harua and Maki will share the other one. Maki insists on taking the bottom bed because he needs that bedside table, not realizing it means Harua will have to sleep facing the one person he intended on avoiding this week—well, him or the wall. But Harua simply can’t say no to Maki’s little pout and pleading puppy eyes, and so he climbs up and carefully places his favorite bunny plushie on the top bed to claim his grounds.
It’s fine, Harua tells himself. I’ll fall asleep so fast I won’t even notice he’s there.
The following hour passes by rather quickly, everyone worn out from the long trip and the heat that seems to be sticking to their skin, burning and heavy and refusing to let go no matter how many refills of his water bottle Harua goes through. Hopefully the sun will have backed off a little when the students are taken out for some free time in the city later, because he doesn’t think he can handle this for much longer.
Nicholas starts a conversation once they begin to unpack their bags and while Harua and Yuma both participate, they never directly speak to each other. Every glance they exchange lasts no more than a second and Yuma’s expression remains unreadable. He doesn’t seem annoyed by the fact that he has to share a room with his ex-best friend, or mad, or even just disappointed. No, it’s something worse. It’s nothing. The absence of emotion. Yuma is acting like Harua is simply not there and it makes the red-haired boy want to scream.
Harua is certain that if he brought a random stranger into the room and asked them to analyze the four’s relationships, they would think Yuma and Harua don’t even know each other. Or maybe they would feel the tension between them, notice Harua’s glances and the way Yuma seems to always be at the exact opposite side of the room from Harua at all times. Would it be obvious that something happened between them? More importantly, would they be able to tell that Harua is completely, definitely over it for good (or will be very soon, at least)?
Harua stops pondering the question when he feels a sharp pain in his finger, quickly followed by the feeling of something thick and warm dripping all the way down his arm until it hits the floor with a small plop. Harua lets out a little scream and his roommates’ heads turn to him in a perfectly synchronized movement, even Yuma’s.
“Rua, what’s wrong?” Maki asks before his eyes fall on the finger Harua is holding tightly with his other hand and the red droplets on the floor, right underneath him. “Oh, shit.”
“It’s okay, I’m fine,” Harua reassures him, even though he knows his furrowed brows tell something different. “I forgot I brought scissors in case I buy clothes and I want to remove the tags, you know, and I poked my finger on them. That’s all. Let me just…”
He lets the unfinished sentence hang in the air while he rushes to the small bathroom—thank god this inn has one in each bedroom—to flush out the blood and look at his injury a little more closely. Thankfully, it’s the kind of cut that will sting for a day or two at most, so Harua doesn’t have to worry about getting it infected and dying or something like that. That would definitely ruin the trip for everyone.
“Did you bring bandaids?” Maki asks, his voice a bit too loud like he doesn’t realize the bathroom is three meters away from where he’s standing. “I forgot mine.”
“No,” Harua replies, shaking his head at his reflection. The Harua in the mirror looks a little disheveled, dark red strands sticking out in a variety of directions, and the real Harua runs his non-injured fingers through his hair to try and fix the mess. It’s a little bit better now.
“I don’t have bandaids either,” he hears Nicholas say in an apologetic tone. Harua reassures him that it’s fine, it stopped bleeding already, and grabs some wet toilet paper to clean the floor he managed to stain barely an hour after they arrived. Not much damage was done, but Harua is so focused on his task that he doesn’t realize someone approached him with quiet steps and is now standing right behind him.
“Harua,” mumbles a familiar voice.
“Hmm?” Harua innocently responds. The blood is completely gone, and his lips curl into a little satisfied smile.
When he turns around, the first thing he faces is a hand. Half a hand to be exact, because the lower part of it is hidden away in the sleeve of a white long-sleeved shirt despite the heat still lingering in the room. The nails are just a little grown out, the fingers are long, holding a single Kuromi bandaid between the thumb and the index, and the hand is frozen in place like it’s not sure what to do.
The hand belongs to Yuma.
Yuma is here, in front of Harua, twenty centimeters away at most—the closest they’ve been to each other since that day. They’re so close Harua can see the soft blush of Yuma’s cheeks, count the few moles sprinkled on his face and he swears he could hear the other boy’s soft breathing if his own heart didn’t start pounding, the vibrations reverberating in his entire body.
Despite that, he can’t read Yuma’s expression at all. The corner of the other boy's mouth twitches a little and his lips press into a line that looks like something in between a pout and a sorry smile. His eyes, though, are still sharp and his body is a little stiff like he’s not really sure about what he’s doing.
And he’s very close to Harua. So close the red-haired boy can attest Yuma is still using the same perfume as before, a flowery and citrus scent with a hint of something more woody Harua can’t recognize. This smell alone could send his brain into a spiral of reminiscing lost moments and imagining what could’ve been their reality if none of this mess ensued, but Harua won’t let it happen with Yuma standing so close to him.
Oh my God.
Why is he so close?
Ah, right. He’s giving Harua a bandaid.
“Here,” Yuma simply says, and he extends his arm towards the other boy until Harua’s brain remembers that he’s supposed to take it. And that’s what he does, with a small “thanks” and eyes so wide they must take up the entire space behind his glasses. Hopefully Yuma can’t hear the embarrassing thumping of the other boy’s heart—Harua knows he looks like a bunny and bunnies have a high heart rate, but come on, this is too much.
As Yuma returns to his suitcase, Harua carefully places the bandaid over his cut, making sure he doesn’t cover Kuromi’s face while he’s wrapping it around his finger because it feels wrong somehow. There was a time when Kuromi was Yuma, My Melody was Harua, and one of them would scream "that's us!" every time they saw an illustration of the two characters together. Even after all this time Harua feels like he’s in possession of something precious, as stupid as it sounds, and…
No, he's right. It is stupid. He’s supposed to be getting over his ex-best friend, but there he is gushing over the ex-best friend in question giving him a stupid bandaid because he was the only one in the room who brought some. He knows that’s the sole reason why Yuma did it. And he hates how his body reacted to the sudden acknowledgement, the unexpected closeness from the guy that has been pretending he doesn’t know Harua for months now. It makes him feel stupid. A stupid bunny still clinging onto the memories he once shared with a cat that was doing very well without him. Cats and bunnies have always been too different; a friendship like this wasn’t supposed to last.
Shaking his head as if to push away his thoughts, Harua gets rid of the toilet paper he cleaned the stain with and finishes to unpack. He takes a look at his pajamas, the light blue fabric neatly folded at the bottom of his suitcase—it took him a while to fold them so nicely, too bad it will come undone soon—and lets out a sigh.
Harua has been helping people in his dreams for a while now, but this time he feels like he is the one who needs help.
˚₊‧ ꒰ა ⊹₊⋆⭒˚.⋆ ໒꒱