天使 ( ANGEL ) ⋮⋮ feelsHASkilig && JINFINITE

[feelsHASkilig]

 

[feelsHASkilig]

“Don't be an idiot! You're drunk and you're high! You're in no state to be driving tonight!” The nagging would not shut up no matter how many times she swatted people away and mumbled that she was perfectly fine. She felt completely alert to her surroundings despite the blasting music all around her and the sea of warm bodies rubbing against her as she pushed her way towards the exit. It was another night at another party with other people she either did not know or did not care to remember. Only thing she cared about was that her good looks were getting her free drinks and people were bowing down to her fame. Whether they really liked her in real life or not was completely irrelevant to her. All that mattered was that they all knew her name and knew how to react when her presence was made noticeable; which it usually did. But after a long night of getting waited on and people kissing her ass for attention, she was growing bored and wanted to go home. Except that for some weird reason these people were being persistent in not letting her go home for whatever stupid reason they could possibly think of. They were probably all working together to keep her captive for ransom.

“God, you are all so annoying! Let me through, idiots!” she finally cried out, pushing passed a girl in a sequin skin tight dress that, in her opinion, made her look a bedazzled mechanical pencil. When she finally made it outside into the cold air that was Tokyo the effects of the alcohol and the drugs started to kick it. Her world started spinning in intoxicating circles to the point that she wanted to throw up. Each time she blinked the dizziness away it only came back faster. She ended up stumbling and tripping over her feet all the way to her car. She didn't realize until she had finally reached her car that the people from before had followed her the entire way begging that she just stay the night to sleep off her intoxication. All she had to respond to that was a sea of profanity that would even make a sailor cower in fear. Eventually, with a rude gesture towards all those that annoyed her to death, she slipped into her car, stumbled to stick her key in and drove off onto the street towards home.

Whether it was because it was very late into the night or she was just lucky, she was surprised to find out that there was absolutely no one currently on the streets. This meant that she was allowed to drive at the fastest speed and break as many rules as possible. At least, that was her reasoning. Every light she ran resulted in her bursting into uncontrollable laughter as if she had just seen someone terribly injure his or her self. To prevent the dizziness from returning, she cranked up the volume of her car stereo to its highest to keep her mind focused on the road. Not that it was doing much considering she was having the time of her life swerving from one side of the street to the next. She was so consumed in the amount of intoxicated fun she was having to realize she had passed her home multiple times in a matter of an hour.

Little did she know that in minutes, she was going to have her world turned upside down.

As she screeched into a residential neighborhood, she fiddled with the dials of her car stereo to find a song that would make her impromptu driving escapades more fun. When she looked up at the road, right in front of her was a tall man wearing a yukata and carrying a katana in his hands. Eyes wide, she swerved out of the way in time to not hit him. But when she looked back to double check, the man was gone. Even in her current state of mind she couldn't help but think about how weird that was. On top of that, the man was oddly familiar in an unknown way. But since she didn't have the mental capacity at the moment to figure out how she knew him, she brushed it off as if it was nothing and continued on. Some minutes later she pulled out her phone with the funny idea to prank call her agent. With one knee controlling the wheel, she reached down to the floor of her front passenger seat for her purse and fished for phone. It took a couple attempts to find it but she successfully clasped it in time to miss hitting a parked car. At this point all the luck she was getting tonight was starting to get to her head. She really did feel like she was invincible.

With her phone now in one hand, she squinted at the bright screen until she guessed that she got the current contact information for her agent. A fat grin crossed her lips when she tapped on the name then brought the phone to her ear. As she expected, it rang for a long time; longer than her agent would have liked if he was actually awake. The ringing, however, only made her laugh harder. She eventually got the answering machine. Apparently her agent isn't as efficient in his job after all. For all he knew, she could have been attacked or worse. Once she was given the go ahead to leave a message, she went into a fit of giggles while she fished through her head what she would say. In the end, she decided to go by ear. “Heyyyyyyyy!~ Why are you not answering your phone? HUH?! HUH?! Hey! Pick up your damn phone! I have to tell you something really import—” An involuntary gasp escaped her lips at that moment when she returned her gaze back to the road. At that very moment, she noticed an arrow flying right at her at top speed. On instinct, she swerved out of the way of the arrow, dropping her phone onto the floor and completely out of sight. She had only a few seconds to react next, but with her head currently spinning from the rush of panic that flowed through her veins she didn't make that time limit. Before she knew it, she felt her car give way and lift itself from one side. The car began rolling down the empty street, hitting cars like a pinball machine. All the while her body tossed and turned in its place on the driver's seat with her head moving from one side to the next in a constant state of whiplash.

She didn't know exactly when the spinning ended as she really didn't have that much time to think about the intense pain she was feeling from being whipped around in a piece of heavy machinery. As soon as she felt conscious enough to know that she was now strapped upside down in the remains of her car, she was given the unfortunate shock at the realization that she was now going to be set on fire. The flames slithered all around the car like a devilish snake looking for its next prey. It reached her in no time at all and the next thing she knew she was watching as her skin blistered and burned under the intense heat of the flames. She was too in shock to scream that all she could do now was watch as her body became engulfed in the heat. Even when she tried to save herself, she realized then that her necessary body parts were not functioning. They were all broken from the tumbling collision she experienced earlier. As the flames started to travel onwards to the rest of her body, she only had but one thought in her head before she blacked out: this was how she was going to die.

After months of surgeries to remove all of her damaged organs from the results of the fire, she was finally able to see her lawyer. She gave him specific instructions: announce to the general public that she had died in that car accident, remove all of the money she had saved in bank accounts and stow some of it away for when she was discharged, do everything he possibly could to completely change her identity, use the rest of the money she had left to pay everyone that worked for her their last month's salary then fire them. He did all of this in a matter of weeks. When he returned to the hospital, he came with good and bad news. The good news was that he had successfully done that all she had said. The bad news was that the money she was supposed to have saved up ended up all going to the hospital to pay for all of her treatments. She had to admit that she was furious to hear that she basically had no money under her name. But since she was restricted from any kind of movements due to her casts and her bandages, she couldn't do anything but let out the same stream of profanity she had released the night of her accident.

The only thing she had that was hers now was her new identity: Jordin.

In the weeks after she had officially changed her identity, Jordin had been molding together her new life story. Now that her old life was announced dead to the world, she needed a new story to tell; assuming she was going to get out of the hospital alive. It didn't take that long to put together her new life. Considering she was practically paralyzed aside from being able to move her head up and down and side to side, there was nothing much she could do everyday. Jordin's story begins in the United States. Her parents are first generation immigrants from Japan wanting to start a new life in a new country. They were average people living average lives in average neighborhoods. Pretty average, right? She was an only child, went to school, made friends. To explain the fact that her entire body was burned and she managed to be alive from it, she merely considered the idea of saying that her parents' house burned down and she was the only one that survived. And to think, that entire story was created in a few weeks. But she had to struggle with the urge to talk about being born and raised in fame. Besides, it wasn't like she was going to be telling this story to anyone. No one was going to visit her. No one knew she was still alive.

The day before she was to begin her débridement procedure, Jordin had requested the nurses bring her as much material on the process as they could allow. Now that her broken limbs had recovered enough that she had full control over them, she was able to flip through books to read...something. She refrained from magazines and newspapers in the fear that she would come across an article that talked about her previous life. Jordin had a large stack of books on her bedside table about burns, but she never got through them long enough to learn something. The reason why she wanted to learn about this new procedure they would be starting was because she overheard her doctor speaking to and orderly about what they needed to do once they started. From the sounds of it, it appeared as if she would be awake the whole time. She wanted to know what she was getting herself into. And so, with somewhat hesitation, the nurses got her the books that she needed and she started researching.

On the day of the procedure, her doctor was met with a protesting patient. “No fuckin' way I'm going to go through with this bullshit!” Jordin spat out, revealing her rather impressive abilities at speaking English. If she was going to be telling people that she was born and raised in the United States, she needed to have a believable ability to speak proper English. The protesting continued for another couple minutes and more profanity was used. Her doctor, a thin man with thick rimmed glasses and a reseeding hairline, stood there patiently before going into explanation again that this procedure is important for her recovery. They needed to remove all of the dead skin and tissue to allow for new tissue to form in those areas. “Fuck off! I'm not doing it. Why don't you and that fuckin' orderly go do it on each other!” responded, returning to speaking in Japanese.

The only way they were able to bribe Jordin into doing this procedure was by reminding her, once she stopped screaming her long list of profanity despite being advised to not overwork her damaged lungs, that with this procedure they would be increasing her dosage of morphine for the pain. Even though in her mind she had somewhat of an idea of what to expect, the thought of having more morphine than usual made things seem somewhat tolerable. How wrong she was.

The morphine ended up doing very little to absolutely nothing once they started débridement on her body. She watched as the liquid surrounding her turned from clear to a dark red. And she had to prevent herself from peeking over at the metal bowl currently carrying all of her bloody bandages and dead tissues. She tuned out every swipe of the blade her doctor slid on her dead skin to prevent the memory of a shiver going down her spine. But honestly, those little tasks were mediocre to the fact that she was literally screaming at the top of her damaged lungs every time her doctor sliced into her skin and cut deep until he got a response. By the time they had completed the procedure, her doctor was covered in red and she was wrapped in cadaver skin. How funny it is that she is depending on dead people to stay alive. Not that they are doing a good job at it though.

When they wheeled her back into her room, Jordin went straight into utilizing the increased dosage of morphine. She pressed the button enough times to numb down the pain and leave her in a high. Eventually, the machine that gave her the morphine put a cap on the dosage, but that was fine with her. She was already feeling pretty weightless. Just as she was about to doze off and sleep for a couple hours, she felt as if her damaged hearing had suddenly become enhanced as she heard footsteps coming closer to her room. However, she never opened her eyes nor did she bother to turn her head towards the door to see if someone really had come. She remained still for another minute until finally she feigned interest and turned to look at the door.

She didn't know if it was the high from the morphine or if she was currently dreaming, but standing at her door was a skinny man with unkempt hair. Her vision was somewhat blurred for her to get a good look at his expression, but it was irrelevant to her because her eyes were mainly staring at the pair of wings coming out from his back. They didn't look exactly like the soft, white wings that people normally pictures angels having, but they were pretty damn close to it. Jordin had to blink a few times to reassure herself that she was wasn't going crazy. But the longer he stayed at the door frame, or at least it felt long to her, the more she grew irritated at him. “What the hell d'you want? Never seen Kentucky Fried Human before?” she snapped at the male. She hated how much he was staring at her. No one stared at her that way, not since she had been admitted into the hospital after the accident.

Eventually, something in what she had said must have triggered the male into leaving. Before he turned to leave, however, Jordin could have sworn she heard him say something. But her hearing returned to being the mess that it was and she was unable to hear any of it. It all came out mumbled to her. Once the man had left, Jordin continued to stare at the now empty place at her door frame. She started remembering small details about him, like the fact that he had a gown over outside clothes. How did he even manage to get into the burn unit in the first place? As far as she knew, the burn unit was the farthest part of the hospital. He must have taken a very huge detour to come to her door. But why?

Upon noticing that all of this confusion was starting to making her head pound, Jordin pushed all thoughts of that mysterious winged man to the back of her mind and pressed the call button to request for more morphine.

JORDIN SPEECHtexttextYUKI SPEECHtexttextOTHER SPEECH

 

[JINFINITE]

CYRUS TO GO HERE WHEN I GET MY EXTERNAL DRIVE FROM THE OTHER ROOM

"Haru, are you ready to go?"

"Mm," He nodded in response but didn't move from where he stood leaning against the railing on the upper level of the club. His eyes were glued to the rookie band playing their heart out down below on the stage. The crowd seemed to love them, and had Cyrus been paying any attention he may have noticed their potential. But his mind was playing its own song in his head; his fingers had been tapping along with the song in his head and it seemed Chris had picked up on this as he brought up leaving the club. They were here unofficially and undercover to scout some bands after someone's agent sent them a hopeful invite, but so far everyone had left him less than unimpressed. The song ended but still Cyrus stayed in place with only his fingers moving along to the tune in his thoughts which grew louder and louder with each passing minute. It wasn't until the end of the next song that he broke contact; his head dropped to his chest, right hand digging painfully into his chest just over his heart and his eyes shut as he breathed through the throbbing in his chest. It was time.

"C'mon...let's go," Chris' voice was commanding but still soft, so as to not startle his friend or draw unnecessary attention to them. With the perfect ratio of force and gentleness he managed to shine through the fog in Cyrus' head before the genius lost himself in his own thoughts. Chris' hands were on Cyrus' shoulders, pulling him back from the railing ever so slowly and turning him away from the stage. He had to steady him as Cyrus misstepped a couple times and would have completely lost his balance had he been on his own. You could blame it on the song still ringing in his head, or the pain still growing in his chest, or you could just say the truth and look to his left at the empty bottles of alcohol on the high bar table. It actually wasn't a lot and he was only a tad tipsy; headache, heartache and intoxication were just too much to deal with all at once. But that was precisely why Chris was there which he proved as he started to lead Cyrus towards the stairs. Key phrase being "started to".

"Cyrus-san? I'm so glad you could make it!" A man had just come up stairs and was beaming enthusiastically as he approached, recognizing Chris and assuming the man beside him could be none other than Cyrus himself. This must be the agent who'd sent the anonymous invite. Cyrus straightened up and moved away from Chris; feigning normality as he'd been recognized in public.
"We're actually on our way out," Chris spoke on behalf of Cyrus, partially for him and partially to prevent the other from saying anything stupid he'd later regret.
"What!? But Jordin is playing next! See, they're setting up right now," he pointed down below at the stage but Cyrus didn't turn to look, instead his eyes were trained on the bright green exit sign pointing down the stairs the agent had just come up.
Sensing there would be no convincing the genius to stay, the agent started rummaging through the bag he carried, at last producing an album and holding it out towards Cyrus, "Please take this with you and listen! My card is inside, I'll be looking forward to hearing from you--"

Cyrus wordlessly moved past the older man then, taking the album as it was extended towards him. He didn't so much as glance at it though. Had he taken just one look at the picture of the girl on the cover his entire world would have changed then and there. Instead he dropped it off at the trashcan at the top of the stairs, not caring that the agent was still watching him.
Chris eyed the agent warily, hoping he wouldn't cause a scene over it. Thankfully it seemed the man was too shocked by Cyrus' action to say anything as he just stared after him. Chris apologized and handed his own business card over in case the agent was brave enough to try again later and then hurried off after Cyrus who was already halfway down the stairs.
"Haru you can't just walk away like that," But Chris' scolding met deaf ears and he was well aware of it. The only thing on Cyrus' mind was that tune he'd been tapping earlier, and as soon as the two of them got home he vanished into his workroom without so much as taking off his shoes.

Chris didn't see Cyrus again for three days. It was late on the third night that he finally left his work room with dark circles that rivaled a raccoon. His almost shoulder length hair was a mess, sticking out in nearly every direction. Chris was expecting all that though. What he hadn't been prepared for were the assortment of bandaids sloppily applied to his wrist; blood still trailing down from under the poor bandage job. It'd been a while since he'd seen that image, and he couldn't stop the saddened expression from taking over his face.

"Haru..." He wasted no time in closing the gap between them as he saw Cyrus' unsteady steps, guiding him to sit on the couch before rushing off to grab something. When Chris returned he held a damp towel in one hand with his phone sandwiched between his ear and his shoulder.

"Here, hold this..." He wrapped the towel around Cyrus' wrist and moved his not bleeding hand to hold it in place. Chris was on hold with the hospital while they tracked down Cyrus' personal doctor. (It was his day off.) Of course if this was an emergency he'd have raced Cyrus off to the hospital as soon as he emerged from his room, but he opted to let Cyrus calm down from his adrenaline high first and so sat down on the couch beside him.

Neither of them said anything for several minutes, Chris was expecting for his friend to pass out there on the couch after having not slept for days but instead he surprised him by speaking,"I saw Yuki..."
Chris looked over towards Cyrus who was staring blankly at the fish bowl on the table in front of them, tears quietly sliding down his cheek. Chris opened his mouth but was cut off before he could speak, "She died again."

There was a moment of silence before the nurse on the other line spoke and Chris got to his feet, walking away to speak with her as well as grab what they needed to bring to the hospital. After a bag was packed and he had their IDs and personal items together Chris caught himself standing in front of Cyrus' work room. The door was ever so slightly ajar and normally Chris wouldn't dare enter uninvited without a need to but curiosity was eating away at him and soon he was pushing the door open. He didn't react to the disaster zone he saw as he stepped inside; he was more or less used to it. Crumpled, torn and shredded papers literally covered the floor. Potted plants were all knocked over, books flung from their shelves. The only thing left unscathed were the paper ties that hung from the ceiling. There were thousands of them, all ranging in age, color and material. Chris had always wondered what they said but he didn't dare touch them, not even now with Cyrus out of action. As he neared the desk he found what his curiosity had been interested in. The amount of blood was actually surprising which left Chris wondering how long it'd been since Cyrus had cut himself. He should probably leave now to get his friend to the hospital. Chris reached out to pick up a shard of pottery coated in red and he couldn't help but sigh. He was always careful not to leave sharp objects lying around or left in Cyrus' possession. But there was little he could do if Cyrus was making his own weapons. It wasn't like he could ban everything that wasn't rounded or soft. He often had to remind himself that while he was in charge of taking care of Cyrus, he couldn't blame himself for the things the other did, such as this; there was nothing he could have done to prevent it anyways.

When he returned Cyrus was asleep and Chris actually debated bringing him to the hospital or not at that point. It wasn't like this was his first time taking care of him. But it'd been three days since he'd seen Cyrus and especially after seeing his work space, he clearly needed more help than what Chris could do at home. The emergency unit was bustling when they arrived, apparently there had been a car accident and someone was badly burned; he could've sworn he heard Cyrus mumble Yuki's name as he was wheeled off to a private room for treatment. Chris returned to the penthouse to clean up rather than sit around for hours waiting for Cyrus to return to present time.

The months following were rather uneventful. Cyrus tried to focus on work but the heart that had failed to find release that night was constantly nagging at him and he slowly lost motivation to do anything.

"Ehhh~ Did you know that SIRKISS disbanded? It's about time..." A slender finger tapped the down arrow on the laptop's keyboard, scrolling down the page as he continued reading aloud under his breath. SIRKISS had been the top ikemen heartthrobs in Japan for the past two years. Besides their pretty boy faces they were known for working closely with Cyrus the famous songwriter. Only that wasn't entirely true as the band had never personally met the genius behind their fame; and it seemed they never would, "The company wants me to write a full album for their rookie's debut~ Well that's awfully ambitious of them isn't it?" He'd reached the end of the email now and his eyes finally blinked away from the screen to look over at the brightly colored fighting fish swimming circles in its overdecorated miniature aquarium that took up a good portion of the coffee table that Cyrus was sitting at, "What do you think I should do, hm?" His finger traced the outline of the fish against the glass, his head titled to the side as his eyes glazed over slightly; temporarily mesmerized by the fish.

"What are you doing with my laptop?" Chris has entered but his question went unanswered as the musical genius continued to stare at his fish, "Hey, Haru-" Chris repeated his question as he moved closer. When Cyrus once again didn't respond he let out a sigh as he sat on the floor across the table from the younger male, "Let's see then..." He reached for his laptop, turning it towards himself to see what it was Cyrus was looking at prior to entering this trance he was in. Chris was plenty used to this by now. These trances were a fairly common occurrence but there was no telling just how long it would take for Cyrus' mind to return so all Chris could do was wait it out. He opted to continue working, answering emails and making appointments. It ended up only taking about twenty minutes for Cyrus to look away from his fish and finally notice that he was no longer alone, "Oh--Kuriisu, hey?"
"You read my email again."
"I'm not doing it."
It took Chris a minute to figure out just what exactly he was talking about. Chris had spent the last twenty minutes working, but Cyrus' last memory was reading that email about SIRKISS which had royally pissed him of. He didn't just hand out songs for people to profit off of, he gave songs to those who deserved and would respect them. Chris knew this, so why was he in talks with some boyband's company?

"Haru you have to," Cyrus looked unimpressed, "It's them or that Korean group 119 that's been asking for weeks."
"I'm not going to."
But they both knew he had little to no say in the matter. When the feeling hit, Cyrus couldn't do anything but write songs.
"It's part of your agreement with the hospital. You have to be actively working. As in working on a project, you can't just--"

Cyrus had stood up abruptly, knocking the table which caused a glass of water Chris had brought to spill over slightly. As the water grabbed Cyrus' attention his eyes narrowed in on the container of pills that sat beside the glass. Chris noticed this right away and opened his mouth to speak but Cyrus had already stormed out of the room; there would be no getting through to Cyrus tonight. Chris glanced at the clock, 8:14pm.

It was no secret that Cyrus didn't take his medication. It did help to clear his head and he had less attacks when on it, but Cyrus couldn't write music with it. The pills helped from a medical perspective but they made Cyrus miserable; he felt like a prisoner in his own body. Can you imagine? Going one moment from having an abundance of information in your brain; words at your finger tips, and then suddenly struggling to remember any of it? To lose hundreds of years worth of memories all due to a few little white pills. Of course he never completely forgot, it was more like when you have a song stuck in your head but you can't name either the song or singer. It drove him crazy, which was ironic considering the pills were prescribed to fix his crazy.

There were no locks on any of the rooms in Cyrus' penthouse; a safety precaution ordered by the hospital. They had a long list of rules concerning Cyrus living on his own such as the agreement Chris had mentioned earlier. He was supposed to have proof he had a job and was contributing to society; which was a sketchy subject as his 'job' required him to shut away in his room for hours. But Cyrus didn't avoid going out in public, he just struggled with social interactions and people often treated him like he was handicapped, there was also the ever looming risk that he'd get hit with an episode when out alone somewhere. His episodes scared people. So he was supposed to take his medication to allow him to go out in public and be normal. But he didn't take it, and so he was stuck in this cycle; which brings us back to the lack of locks.

Cyrus entered his workroom with a painful pounding in his chest. He stopped only to slide a dresser in front of the door before approaching his desk. Hours passed and all you could hear was music playing and objects crashing until around 6am the following morning when it went quiet. By the time Chris got the door open, Cyrus was half conscious on the floor. The room was a mess once again, but it didn’t feel as tragic as last time. Cyrus’ headphones were still plugged into his desktop computer and hung off the edge of the desk, music still playing quite clearly in the silence of his work room. Chris approached, glancing over the musician and concluding he hadn’t sustained any injuries this time around apart from a small nosebleed; Chris hoped it was just from falling to the ground but his gut told him otherwise.

"Hey Haru…” He called his name softly as he kneeled down beside him. Chris wasn’t sure how Cyrus might react at first, but he didn’t move when Chris touched his shoulder, ”Ha~ru...”
He watched as Cyrus’ half opened eyes threatened to roll back, his body was failing him; it usually did. Chris carefully pulled Cyrus first into a sitting position, then to his feet. Surprisingly Cyrus was able to keep his balance, he simply wasn’t strong enough to support himself and so the dead weight of his small frame leaned completely on Chris who opted to bring him straight to the hospital this time around rather than wait. By the time they reached Chris's car, Cyrus had officially succumbed to his illness and slipped into unconsciousness. He wouldn't wake for a full forty eight hours as his body and mind struggled to recover from the abuse they'd suffered during his episode.

When Cyrus did open his eyes again, he stared trance like up at the hospital ceiling. He was sore, and still tired, but mostly disoriented. This wasn't unusual for him, each time he woke in the hospital he would have a period of confusion. What had happened? Why was he here? Where was here? Sometimes he even questioned who he was, luckily today wasn't one of those times. When he finally broke away from the ceiling he turned his head to his side only to find that his room was empty. That was...different. Normally Chris would be in the corner furiously typing away at his laptop, or a nurse would be with him, or someone! He closed his eyes briefly as a headache accompanied by a wave of nausea set in. And then he smelled it, fire. His eyes shot open to find the room was engulfed in flames. He was no longer laying in a hospital bed but standing in what looked to be a dojo. The smoke was infiltrating his lungs by the second leaving him with an ugly cough and straining to see through it, "YUKI!!!"

He knew she was here. She had to be here. He shouted her name again and this time he thought he'd heard her voice from the other room. It was literally burning hot and Cyrus was feeling the effects as the fire ate away at every molecule of oxygen in the air. By the time he reached the door it was covered in flames while more danced around the room, boxing him in with the burning door left as his only escape route. But Cyrus hesitated. Fire scared him. It was one of his only true fears and he was currently surrounded by it. All it took though was a girl's scream from the other room. Yuki. He broke the door down in one swift move and then it was cold all of a sudden. His breath caught in his throat, his eyes wide in shock as a fish swam by his face. Then another, and another. There was an entire school of them swimming through the air of this burning room. Yuki wasn't there, but he could still hear her screams as the fire raged on. It took a minute before he felt something similar to water start covering his feet. When he looked down he saw thick, red water steadily filling the room and it was then he noticed the sharp pain in his wrists which he lifted to eye level. They were slashed open, his blood flowing freely and bringing the water level up to his waist now and still rising. Cyrus panicked. It was up to his chest. A fish flew by. The burning ceiling was collapsing sending fiery wooden planks into the water. It wasn't water. It was blood, his blood. And it was just past his neck now. He was literally drowning in his own blood and he could still hear Yuki desperately screaming to him for help.
"Haru!!"

Chris' voice brought him out of his nightmare and back into the hospital room where he continued gasping for air, for real this time. He was drenched in sweat and stared up at Chris who seemed to be saying something but all he could hear were Yuki's screams still ringing in his head.
"Shh...you're back now." Cyrus was pushing himself upright, his eyes glancing around the room now. There was a nurse entering through the door, and Chris was at his side, but otherwise the room was empty. It wasn't that he was expecting it to be bustling; he was scared to find something or someone there that didn't belong. But he didn't. He really was back. Chris was passing him a glass of water which he accepted with a trembling hand and took a sip before returning it back to him. Cyrus let out a soft sigh once he'd caught his breath. He ran his hand through his hair, moving it out of his face and he shut his eyes for a moment. He couldn't quite place his last memory; the nightmare still fresh in his mind, but the last thing he truly remembered was sitting at the coffee table with Chris and the laptop. And he knew he'd finished the song. But everything in between was a hazy blur, it was probably better that way.
"Ne, Kuriisu," He looked up to meet Chris' eyes, "Yuki is here."
"Haru...she's not--"
"I know, but she's here."
Chris decided to not push it any further. He was used to Cyrus not making sense, but it hurt to watch him live in this delusion.
"Why don't you get dressed and we'll go find something to eat?" He gestured to a duffle bag of clothes he'd brought knowing Cyrus hated staying in the hospital gowns, "Then we'll come back and get you discharged and go home, kay?"
Discharge: that was a challenge of its own. Even if Cyrus was physically healthy enough to leave, the doctor was always fighting for him to stay longer. Sometimes he'd pull the 'danger to himself' card, or want to try some new treatment. Chris couldn't blame him, after all Cyrus was a complete mystery and no one truly seemed to know why any of this happened to him. But he also knew Cyrus always recovered better back in his penthouse rather than rotting away in some hospital bed.

Once dressed Cyrus and Chris made their way down to the hospital cafeteria where they sat in their usual spot by the window overlooking a garden. Cyrus didn't often eat much here, preferring home cooked meals and not mention he didn't have much of an appetite after waking up; if anything he felt sick. But Chris was usually able to convince him to eat plain white rice, miso, and pick at whatever side dishes were with his own meal. Just so long as he got something in his empty stomach before they left.
Cyrus was staring out the window in between bites of food, a soft distant smile on his face. He was still obviously distracted by his memory and hadn't quite reconnected with present day yet, but at least he was calm and eating. Two things Chris was thankful for as they sat in silence.

"Haru I have to go take care of some stuff, the doctor should be here in just a couple minutes though, okay?"
Cyrus nodded in understanding and so Chris left with his phone to his ear and his messenger bag over his shoulder. They were back in Cyrus' hospital room now, and while usually leaving him unattended wasn't a problem, today it would be. Yuki was waiting for him. He didn't know where she was, but he would find her. He had to.

With a clean hospital gown now over his personal clothes he left the room and made a left down the hall to leave the psychiatric ward. He didn't have a clue where he was going, he just walked; fingers trailed window sills and eyes staring forward as though following some invisible arrow that led the way. At some point he realized he was at the end of the hospital as he stared up at the sign labeled 'Burn Ward'. This was it, he could feel it. Pushing the doors open he stepped into a hall that smelled heavy of antiseptic and death. It was nauseating but Cyrus didn't show his discomfort, he had one thing on his mind and that was finding the love of his life. It was surprisingly empty as he made his way down the hall. His body was hating him for not resting but he wouldn't feel that till later, right now the only thing he could concentrate on was Yuki.

There! His eyes landed on a door that had been left slightly ajar. Pushing it open what he saw was a living, breathing mummy who likely wouldn't have been recognizable to her own parents; but Cyrus knew who she was. He'd found her. Cyrus leaned against the door frame, arms at his sides and his fingers fiddling nervously with his slightly oversized sleeves. He wasn't nervous, no, more like excited. He was in love, and true love always gives you butterflies no matter how well you know the other person. He was smiling as she opened her eyes, an expression on his face that clearly understood what she was going through. Her image didn't frighten or unnerve him, not in the slightest, but it seemed his presence didn't sit well with her; she yelled at him. She was scared and it was understandable. Cyrus' expression didn't falter, he wanted to go over and comfort her but he could hear voices approaching and Yuki looked distressed. He'd have to return later.
"Don't worry, you're safe now."
His eyes lingered on her for as long as possible before he had to break contact to turn and leave. He only got a couple meters down the hall before a voice stopped him mid step, "Okada Haruto-san?"

Turning he saw a familiar face, Maeda Shiori, his previous head attending nurse before she transferred departments. It seemed she now worked here in the burn ward. She had always been his favorite nurse. And apart from Chris, she had the best track record for understanding and getting through to him, "What're you doing here?"
"I was looking for someone."
Noticing his eyes looking past her, Shiori turned to see the open door just down the hall. She turned back to him, "Murakami-sensei is looking for you, he says you disappeared right before he was going to see you?"
"Mm, I'm going back now."
"Can I walk you?"
Cyrus shook his head, "Just take care of Yuki for me."
There was a slightly panicked look of worry on the nurse's face at the mention of Yuki in that phrasing, but it flew right by Cyrus who bowed in respect for his caretaker of many years before leaving to go meet his doctor.

As luck would have it, his doctor wanted new blood tests so Cyrus was back at the hospital just two days later. Chris would be back in an hour to pick him up and so rather than resting in his room he once again took off towards the burn ward. When he visited this time the girl was asleep. Cyrus sat beside her bed, meticulously folding a silver piece of square paper. When he was finished and it was time to go he placed the silver origami fish on the dresser beside her bed, atop a dog eared book she must've been reading.
His next two visits were similar, she was always either asleep or out for treatment. Cyrus would sit and fold koi fish and then leave without getting to talk to her.

The fourth time he went however he caught her just as she was waking up. Cyrus was in his usual chair, against the wall this time however as that's where he'd found it when he came in and he simply hadn't moved it closer. He was dressed in a loose fit white v-neck t-shirt with a dark cardigan. Black harem esque pants and boots completed today's look, this time without the hospital gown over top as he'd come solely to see her. His brown hair was pulled back in an elastic but his shorter moppy fringe still was an unkempt mess around his face. Overall he looked much better having caught up on sleep and no longer stressing over the most recent heart that he'd released into his music.
He smiled watching her wake up and gave her a moment to adjust to the bright hospital room, "I knew I'd find you."​

 

[feelsHASkilig]

Jordin stared confusingly at the origami koi fish resting on her bedside table. She had no recollection of it being there the last time she had been awake. When she finally called someone to ask how it had gotten there, the nurse that came in had no idea since she had just started her shift. Jordin coughed out a scoff and muttered a few words about how unreliable this hospital was. In her annoyance she barked at the nurse to stow the koi fish in the top drawer before leaving. Normally, she would have asked her to just throw it away. But for some reason, she couldn’t do it this time. The nurse noticed it too, but every nurse at the burn ward knew now never to question anything that she wanted; unless it was more morphine.

The koi fish kept appearing the next couple of days. They were sitting at her bedside either when she came back from treatment or when she woke up. Either way, they arrived with no face to the creator by the nurses. Whoever was the creepy stalker that kept coming into her room knew exactly to visit so that no one saw him or her. It was either that, or s/he didn’t want to be seen. Jordin was starting to be wary of this secretive visitor that she has yet to see.

However, despite the suspicious behavior of this visitor, she rarely thought too much about it. Once the origami fishes were put away, she had other important things to think about. For instance, the annoying shrink that was coming in nowadays to make sure that she didn’t end up being suicidal. The doctor always arrived after origami fish visitor and spent a good two hours every day attempting to make conversation with her. Jordin never said anything more than five words in one sentence. And when she did, it was usually to ask for whatever book she had on her bedside that day. It gave her a little bit of pleasure watching as this scrawny little man attempted to pluck up some kind of conversation with her that didn’t end in five minutes of awkward silence.

As always, Jordin was in this egotistical belief that since she was miserable, everyone around her needed to be miserable as well.

Having been in the hospital for weeks now, Jordin had practically lost track of all sense of time. The only reference she had was the rise and fall of the sun through the curtains on her window. However, with the persistent shrink that was now coming in to visit her, she had a sense of one day in the week; Friday. On Fridays, he would visit her in the mornings instead of the usual mid-afternoon schedule. This also meant that he came before the koi fish visitor. His heavy footsteps were what woke her up that morning.

“That’s nice,” he said in his usual low tone, nodding towards the origami koi fish sitting on her bedside.

Jordin turned her head to look over at it, cursing the nurse from yesterday for forgetting to put it with the others that were in the drawer. She then let out a scoff and ignored it to stare out at the window. There wasn’t much to see though since the curtains were still pulled.

“Would you like me to open the curtains?” she heard the man ask. Somewhere in the back of her mind was bugging her to at least remember his name, but she shut it up immediately. She didn’t respond to his question. Instead she turned her head to stare at the wall in front of her. There was the sound of footsteps again and then the sound of curtains being pulled. Seconds later, the morning sunlight was filling her once dark room.

The man went about his business getting himself situated in her room. Jordin heard him move the chair that had been next to her again the wall. She then heard the shuffling of some papers; probably from that beat up notebook he always had with him to take notes. It was once she heard the final squeak of his shiny shoes that he started to speak again. But like all other times, Jordin didn’t give him much to go on and they were left in awkward silences again. It wasn’t until an hour into this appointment did the man try something different; doing all the talking. And did he sure know how to talk. He ended up talking out whatever was left of her ears until her two hours were up and he reminded her that he would be coming again on Monday. When she heard him close the door behind him, she instantly closed her eyes and went back to sleep.

The first thing that Jordin wanted to blame for her strange dream was the morphine. It started off with her on stage doing what she was born to do; perform. The cheering, adoring fans deafened her and she felt the equivalent of her heart racing. Suddenly, everything started to fade away with screams as flaming arrows arched over everyone and directed all at her. Before any of them to hit her, she was sitting in the middle of a garden. It was eerily quiet and she was keenly aware of all of her surroundings. It was then that she heard a pair of footsteps coming close to her. Before she could be seen, she hid behind a large tree. She couldn’t hear what the pair was saying exactly. Out of curiosity, she peeked around the corner to see who was coming.

It was a man and a woman, both around her age or a few years younger. She couldn’t recognize the female, but there was this odd feeling that she had seen the male before today. They were in traditional attire and their mannerisms were not of this century. It was confusing her why she was having this kind of dream.

Scenes changed once more and she was now in the middle of the forest in some unknown location. Once more she became aware of footsteps coming her way. When she turned, the male from previously was running towards her. However, he didn’t seem to see her. In her panic, she once more ran to hide behind a tree. She heard him crying out for someone over the angry sounds of men shouting. He was being followed. It was hard for her to understand what he was calling out. But just as she was about to take a peek around the tree, the scenery changed.

She was back in the accident. Flames were all around her, but she couldn’t feel a thing. Panic consumed her like the fire, but her fear made her unable to scream out for help. In the distance, she saw a figure standing and watching the flames grow. Jordin strained her eyes for a better look at him, but the unkempt hair was enough for her to know who it was --

Jordin didn’t realize that she was awake until the pain and discomfort returned. The white walls with the sun from the open window blinded her and she had to close her eyes for a moment to let them adjust. When she could finally see again she felt like she wasn’t alone in her room. This was only confirmed when she heard a voice speak to her. It was a familiar voice and one that she hadn’t heard in days. But even days later, the voice and the person it belonged to made her uneasy.

All she could do was stare at him. He wasn’t in the oversized crazy person hospital gown - she had inquired about the specific gown he was wearing at the time with the nurses - and was dressed like he was supposed to be a normal human being. The only thing that somewhat remained the same was his hair, even if it was tied back with an elastic. The wings that she had possibly hallucinated seeing were nowhere in sight.

“I knew I’d find you,” this stranger had said. She stared at him through her bandages. The way he was staring back at her made her uncomfortable and angry. There was a part of her that continued to stay rational and shouted at her to press the call button. She had no idea how long he had been sitting there at that chair, but it couldn’t have been long enough that the nurses wouldn’t have known by now. And then there was the other part of her; the less rational part. This part was strangely curious and also very concerned of not wanting him to leave. Whatever this man had on her, it was enough to make her want him to stay.

She opened her mouth to speak, but she could barely get any words out due to a dry mouth. Looking directly at his creepily smiling face, Jordin nodded towards the cup of water on the bedside table; indicating that he help her drink. He did as she had instructed, and once she drank her fill, she looked up at him again. “Who the hell are you?” she asked through her raspy voice, completely ignoring her efforts to speak in English for her new identity. Wasting her time with English meant he would be bothering her longer.

He introduced himself as Haruto, and that was basically all that she could get out of him that she could hear. If he spoke loud enough for the average person to hear, she thought of his as soft spoken. Many times in the middle of whatever explanation he was giving her, she had to remind him to speak louder. It worked until he seemed to lose track of what he was going on about. It was hard to keep up with him on some occasions. Eventually, she tuned him out long enough so that she wouldn’t get a headache. It was the shrink all over again. Maybe they were in this together. The crazy guy pops in first and then after the doctor of crazy comes and they can double team her. If this was the doctor’s attempt and making her less suicidal, he really needed to get his license to practice revoked immediately.

“Oh...I didn’t know you had a visitor…” Jordin turned her gaze from Haruto to find her doctor standing there with an orderly. They were probably here to change her bandages. She could tell from the looks on their faces that this scene was off. After all, Jordin hadn’t had any visitors since her lawyer had been fired. To everyone in the hospital, no one knew who she was.

Jordin said nothing in her defense to her doctor’s statement. Instead she turned away from them to stare at the wall in front of her. There was an awkward silence while the man looked through his glasses from her to Haruto then back to her. The way he was looking at them told her that he was trying to put together how they could know each other if she had been clear from the beginning that she wanted no one to know that she was still alive other than those that had signed the gag order. But other than her doctor, no one under that gag order visited her.

“He was just leaving,” Jordin finally spat out without looking at anyone. The tone in her voice left Haruto with no choice but to follow. That didn’t mean that he wouldn’t leave without the final word and reassurance that he would come back. She was hoping that he wouldn’t.

Haruto returned after that weekend. And he continued to visit as regularly as possible. On some days, he would see her with his hospital gown on; indicating that he had an appointment at the crazy ward. By now the nurses were well aware of his presence. Jordin had even learned that one of her attending nurses had been his some years ago. At this point, they were all no longer wary of his visits. They probably felt bad that her only visitor was a regular in the psychiatric ward. Apparently to them having a crazy person visit her was better than having no visitors at all. But to Jordin, she preferred when she had no one care for her.

Other times he came as just a visitor. It was during these visits that she learned the most about him. He explained that it was because his brain wasn’t clouded with the meds he had to take. But considering whatever was on his chart was strictly confidential, she had absolutely no idea what that could possibly mean. He told her as much as he could tell her without giving too much away. It didn’t take Jordin long for her to notice that he was trying to get her used to him being around. This was only proven fact when Chris was introduced. Although the man introduced himself as Haruto’s manager, all Jordin could think of in regards to their relationship was “nanny.” The way Chris worried over Haruto over the smallest of things was just too uncomfortable to watch for too long. This especially relates to the overexcitement Haruto has over being with her. No matter how hard Chris tried to hide it, she saw how much he didn’t approve of them being there; and it didn’t even seem to have anything to do with the fact that she was undeniably hideous.

These visits also consisted of bento boxes and more origami koi fish. She still wasn’t given the okay to eat much, but she was allowed to keep the koi fish. Nowadays his crafts were no longer hiding away in the drawer. The nurses had taken it upon themselves - more specifically ignoring her demands to put them back in the drawer - to hang them across her window. The different colored papers brought life to her room. Jordin cared little about liveliness. After all, the nuisance of a visitor was lively enough for the both of them.

After a couple weeks of regular visits suddenly stopped when Haruto didn’t arrive when he said that he would. Jordin had been watching the clock for more than an hour before she figured out that he wasn’t going to be coming. Not even Chris came to let her know that he had a prior engagement to deal with. In fact, she got absolutely no news about him. If seeing his face has annoyed her before, going a day without him when she thought that she would made her more irritated. And it affected the way she interacted with the staff. After one of her treatments a few days after Haruto stopped visiting, she overheard one of the nurses talk about how he had made attending to her bearable. This only made Jordin even more angry.

She had no idea who she was more angry over; Haruto for suddenly failing to visit her or herself for unknowingly allowing him to visit. It didn’t occur to her until he was no longer around that they had created some like of routine with each other. Transitioning back to a life when he wasn’t around was a miserable time for Jordin. It consisted of dealing with her treatments alone and dealing with people she could not stand. Her psychiatrist, who she now knows as Dr. Mizumoto though she will eventually learn his first name, noticed the change in attitude once Haruto stopped visiting. The two had met a few times, but she could tell that their relationship was strained for the obvious reason that Haruto was a crazy person in her doctor’s eyes. After noticing this, most of their conversations - still mostly one sided - consisted of how she felt about Haruto. She liked to believe that her excuses of him being a pain in her ass were actually all true. It would be a loss on her part if she started to believe that she was actually missing him.

Whatever reason Haruto have for suddenly ceasing his visits, Jordin used it to her advantage over the next few days. His absence helped her move on. Turns out it was a lot easier for her to accomplish when she reminded herself to expect nothing from anyone. As the days passed and she returned to her life without the crazy person, Jordin became less irritable. Granted, she still took pride in giving her attending nurses a headache here and there, but other than that she didn’t yell at people for their idiocy as often. The only things that remained consistent since the beginning are her demand for more morphine and her treatments and operations tracking down her days.

Sundays were always a day of rest for her. No treatments and no annoying shrink to try to make conversation with. Other than to check on her bandages, the nurses left her alone most of the time. At this point, Jordin had lost count of how many days it had been since Haruto’s last visit. She put him in the back of her mind as a distant memory of a weird experience that happened to her while in the hospital. Maybe one day when she was old or at the point of death she’ll think back on the skinny crazy guy that thought she was this chick named Yuki.

Having been awake since early morning, a mistake on one of her nurse’s part and was reconciled with an extra dose of morphine, Jordin sat up on her bed with a book on producing; music producing to be exact. She had contemplated the idea of producing music under an alias. It was a random thought that came to mind the day before and she had demanded that she be brought as many books on producing music as possible. After all, before her accident she embodied music. What better way to make a living than to create it in the background. She could work through a manager and never have to be seen. Besides, if Cyrus could do it and be as successful, why not she?

Notebooks and books of all sizes were scattered all over her bed as her good hand - fortunately it was also her dominant one - took down as many notes as her limited amount of movements could allow. She even had music playing in the background to get her inspired. Her concentration would have gone on for hours had she not felt as if she was being watched. Her pen stopped mid-sentence as she looked up towards the door. Instantly, her expression hardened and she frowned at her visitor.

“And here I was thinking you had finally come to your senses and realized that being near me was a waste of your time. Or that you suddenly died,” she scoffed as she tossed her pen on her bed. Leaning back now, she stared at Haruto closely. “You look like hell. And that’s saying a lot considering...” She motioned a hand across her bandaged body.

“What are you doing here anyway? You were doing so well not coming back to bug me with your nonsense.”

JORDIN SPEECHtexttextYUKI SPEECHtexttextOTHER SPEECH

 

[JINFINITE]

CYRUS TO GO HERE WHEN I GET MY EXTERNAL DRIVE FROM THE OTHER ROOM

Haruto wasn’t known for his social skills. He often had trouble reading situations and body language. But here he was in a room with a girl wrapped nearly head to toe in bandages and the second she made the slightest gesture towards her glass of water he moved to her side to hold it for her. The concern was very apparent on his face. Not concerned for her per say; he knew she would be fine, but concern over her current situation. Here she was all alone, bedridden and unable to even drink water by herself. His concern quickly transformed into guilt. She had been here all along. He’d searched for her for so many years, but here she was waiting for him. But it would be okay, she’d never have to be alone ever again. He’d finally found her and he would take care of her from now on. When it came to Yuki he could do anything, because she was his everything. As he was hers--
”Who the hell are you?”

Again, social cues weren’t his specialty and he remained unfazed, a gently smile on his face as he returned the glass to her bedside table, ”It’s me,” As though it were obvious who he was, ”Haruto~”
The bandage girl didn’t say anything, but she didn’t need to, Haruto continued on just fine. He could talk enough for the both of them, ”I’m sorry I’m so late, I’ve been searching for so long...but I heard you calling. I was lost in the fire and blood, but the fish showed me the way, they led me to you. Kuriisu didn’t believe me, no one believed me. “ He had picked up his origami koi while he spoke, turning it over in his hand. His voice had trailed off at the end as the stared mesmerizingly down at the fish and it was in that moment that she made it known that she couldn’t hear him. He blinked up from the fish to meet her eyes and smiled, continuing on as though he hadn’t stopped, ”But I heard you Yuki, and I found you. I always knew I would.”

He set the fish back down and turned to pace over towards the windows, ”So I was thinking…”
Haruto talked to her as though nothing had happened, as though no time had passed. He spoke of tea ceremonies and festivals. He told a story of something he’d encountered the other day. Only it wasn’t the other day, it was the other day like a thousand years ago when they were last together. But Haruto recalled every moment clear as day. This went on for a good while. There was no conversation between the two of them, it was solely Haruto speaking until another man’s voice presented itself and Haruto stopped mid sentence to see a doctor. He nodded his greeting towards the professional but had otherwise ceased all activity. No more story telling or bright expressions, it was as though the others’ presence had shut him down. Normally one might take the doctor’s entrance as their cue to leave but it wasn’t until Yuki spoke that he made any such movement. She was sending him away, and he watched her for a moment as though questioning her decision. But it was her decision, and so he smiled and stood up from the edge of her bed which he’d been leaning against, ”Mm, I’ll be back soon,” he turned towards the doctor and bowed again on his way out, ”Take care of Yuki for me until I return.”

He met Chris outside in the patient loading zone where he’d been waiting, but Haruto didn’t say anything of his reunion with Yuki. He simply sat in the front passenger seat humming softly to himself. Chris watched him for a moment, clearly debating if he should say anything but in the end he decided to just start the car and take them home.

The next couple weeks were practically groundbreaking. Never before had Haruto been so excited, for anything. But practically everyday he was asking Chris to take him to the hospital to visit Yuki. Chris ended up calling to get permission for Haruto to visit. Obviously the patients themselves could turn away visitor requests, but was Haruto even allowed to visit? Like was it a health risk if she was exposed to anything from the outside or something? But the ward assured him it was okay, even seemed to promote the prospect of visitors, however Chris himself wasn’t convinced for Haruto’s benefit. He didn’t feel right letting Haruto live in this fantasy of his. It was a dangerous path to tread. On one hand it was the first time Haruto actively wanted something, and the social interaction was more than anyone could have ever dreamed of for him. But he thought this girl was someone else. That couldn’t be good for his mental health to feed into it. But Chris brought him back a few days later, and then again, and again….and then even on days when Haruto himself had an appointment, when Chris would go to pick him up the nurses would tell him that Haruto had wandered off and every single time Chris found him in the burn ward.

Despite Chris’ skepticism about the whole thing, Haruto was doing better. He was more responsive and optimistic, and Chris often found him in the kitchen cooking up fancy bento and brewing old teas. Haruto’s psychologist seemed to think his new friend was a wonderful addition, and the girl’s attending nurses mentioned to him on several occasions about how much she’d opened up since Haruto had started visiting. But still Chris was uneasy about it all, perhaps what had him on edge was how long it’d been since Haruto had had an episode. Which was clinically a good thing. But Chris’ instincts said otherwise and he was fully expecting huge fallout. It was like that article he’d read about earthquakes in California. Apparently they were waiting for ‘The Big One’, and that’s exactly how Chris felt now as he entered the elevator going down from their penthouse, leaving Haruto alone while he ran out for an errand. He kept repeating to himself that everything would be fine and that he was just being paranoid. It would be fine.

There was a soft ding from the kitchen that called Haruto’s attention over to deal with it. ‘It’ being his rice cooker which had finally completed its purpose. He’d already finished cooking the rest of the food, all he’d been waiting for was the rice but finally now he could eat. Eat and then pack the rest away to bring to Yuki in the hospital when Chris returned. As he reached for a rice bowl it clinked against another dish on it’s way out of the cabinet and simultaneously a chime rang out which had Haruto turning to see where it came from, however nothing had changed around him. Hm, strange. When he turned back and opened the rice cooker he heard the same noise again and his hand flew to his ear as the sound reverberated and echoed in his ear. He knew what this was now. There was a steady beat pulsing, keeping a rhythm with the more sporadic rings. Trying to ignore it, he continued filling his bowl with rice; softly humming to himself now as his heart and mind were slowly but surely infiltrated by this new overwhelming feeling. It had been so long since he’d felt this. His finger now tapped along the side of the bowl in time with his humming as he reached the rice paddle back into the cooker for the last time.

His nose had started running and he sniffled to fight it from turning into an actual drop but with no success. It slipped off his face and he immediately glanced down to make sure that it had missed the bowl of rice he held in his other hand. But what he saw had him releasing the rice paddle and bringing his hand up to wipe across his nose. He then in turn looked down at his hand as though expecting to see something different. Blood. It was blood. And not watered down like if he had mixed with the mucus in his nose. No, this was dark. It was purely blood like he’d been punched directly in the nose. Another crimson drop hit the pure white rice and the contrast of colors only made the situation more alarming. His heart had begun to race, but not in a panic, instead it was to the same tune his finger had been tapping just moments ago. Just as Haruto went to wipe at his nose again the ringing returned a thousand times stronger and he cried out in pain as his hands flew to cover his ears as though that could block out the sound. Nothing could block it out. He couldn’t even hear the bowl shatter as it hit the kitchen floor

He stumbled back from the counter, thankfully wearing his house slippers and so didn’t step into any shards of pottery. There was an intense pressure surrounding him, it felt as though he and everything around him were both negative ends of a magnet. He wanted to go sit down but literally the entire world was pushing against him leaving him trembling in the kitchen. He took another stuttered step and it was then that he felt a window of relief. The pressure against his left shoulder ceased and he turned towards it. As he turned the relief adjusted to apply to whatever part of him was facing that particular direction; that direction being his work room. He stepped more confidently towards it, following the positive end of the magnet until he was seated at his desk where his bloody hand picked up a blank piece of paper, his other grabbed a pencil and just as he set the tip down to write it all stopped. The ringing stopped, the pressure was gone and he felt weightless and lightheaded in his seat. He pressed down harder. It was gone. The feeling was gone and so was the tune that had been haunting his head. It was like it was on the tip of his tongue, it was there, it was right there but he couldn’t remember it. He was pressing so hard now that the tip of the lead broke off leaving a dark streak on the bloody hand-printed paper.

Haruto cried out in frustration, his arm sweeping across the desk to send whatever was in range crashing down to the floor. He inhaled sharply, the way one does when trying to catch their breath while sobbing. However no tears fell from Haruto’s eyes, only blood from his nose as a drop hit the surface. It wasn’t a lot, more so just the residual of whatever had caused it in the first place. His heart was still pounding and his hand clenched at his shirt now. It was there. It was still there. Everything inside him was screaming for release. Why? Why couldn’t he remember it? It had been so clear just moments ago and now it was shrouded in his own mind. He slammed his fist down on the table just before getting to his feet to return to the kitchen. He was visibly tense, angry even--ding

That wasn’t the rice cooker this time. His eyes narrowed on the closest fish bowl, a dark navy Beta with large flowy fins that were a light ombre effect. He heard it again and approached the fish, his hand reaching out to touch the side of the bowl. It was burning hot, as though the glass were sitting in fire and he retracted his hand so as to not get burned. Ding. He spun around to face the next closest fish bowl, a Goldfish this time. The pressure had returned, this time emitting from the fish bowls around the house, and it was hot, it was so hot. It was as though the room were on fire.

Ding-ding...ding
It was bouncing between the bowls in a rhythmic pattern, back and forth, back and forth until it suddenly hit him and Haruto turned on his heels to run back to his work room. He automatically sat down, not remembering that he’d thrown everything onto the floor just minutes before. His heart was pulsing so hard he felt it throughout his entire body, that was all he could feel. His body itself was numb to everything but the beat locked deep inside. He was in a panic realizing there was nothing to write with and his chair fell back when he stood up and then lunged for the first pen he saw. He couldn’t be bothered with paper anymore and began furiously scribbling onto his arm--it was gone. The feeling left again and Haruto stared down breathlessly at the lines of notes he’d managed to write down. It wasn’t complete. It wasn’t enough. He needed more. Why did it keep leaving?? It was like something was blocking it. He felt like he was trying to drink through a faulty straw. He could get some at just the right angle but mostly all he got was a bunch of nothing. He dropped the pen to the ground and shakily got to his feet. This whole ordeal was rather draining, especially considering he still hadn’t eaten yet.

Haruto wandered to the bathroom next, the door shutting softly behind him. He had come in here to splash some water on his face in effort to cool down as he was still overheating from the burning room. The water mixed with the drying blood on his face and turned pink before hitting the bowl of the sink. He could feel a headache moving in and unpacking its stuff. It was making itself at home and inviting friends over for a housewarming party in his head. Headache. He needed something for his headache but Chris had all the medications locked away for fear that Haruto would OD, whether intentionally or not. And Chris still wasn’t back yet from his errand. It was in that moment that the solution dawned on him. Chris. Medication. It was those stupid pills they all insisted he took. That was why he couldn’t write songs. They were blocking him out. He was staring at himself in the mirror as he came to this conclusion, the water still dripped off his face. Haruto turned over to the toilet and without any hesitation he was reaching his finger down his throat as far as it would go until the wave of nausea hit him and he gagged. There wasn’t much in his stomach to throw up, but what little there was soon came out accompanied by two partially dissolved pills. As he straightened upright everything spun around him and then went black as his body shut down on him and Haruto passed out, crumpling to the floor.

”Haru, I’m back!”
It was at least twenty minutes later when Chris finally returned and announced himself at the door as he stepped out of his shoes and into his own house slippers. He didn’t hear anything in response. He had thought Haruto would still be busy in the kitchen but perhaps he finished and went to his room, ”Haru?”
His heart dropped into his stomach when he entered the kitchen to find everything was still exactly as it had been when he left only now a broken bowl and rice was strewn across the floor. Was that...blood? It seemed to only be on the rice rather than any of the broken shards which was somewhat reassuring, but only ever so slightly. He set down his bag and hurried down the hall to Haruto’s work room where he knew he would most likely find him. He wasn’t there, however it was clear he had been. Everything was on the floor rather than completed sheets of music. He didn’t see anything else clearly broken though like the bowl which add reassurance points, but where was Haruto…

The next place he checked was the balcony. Nope. Haruto’s bedroom. Nope. His bedroom. Nope. He called out for him throughout his search and was getting all sorts of worried. Especially when he’d called Haruto’s phone only to find the device ringing in the kitchen. He was beginning to think the other had left the house which was a scary thought since he clearly hadn’t brought his phone. It didn’t matter that Haruto’s shoes had been in the entryway, this was a clinically insane person, he could have left barefoot if something came over him. Chris swore to himself as he ran his hand through his hair. Why did this happen? Haruto had been doing so well, and they’d even had him taking his meds consistently. But Chris knew why this happened. He’d been expecting this all along, he had literally been afraid of this very situation when he’d left the house. He shouldn’t have left the house. But he did, he couldn’t just stand here and regret his decision he needed to find Haruto. He glanced at his phone’s lock screen hoping to see a missed call or something, but there was nothing. The only place he hadn’t checked was the bathroom and he pocketed his phone as he headed over there. He knocked twice and called Haruto’s name again, giving him a chance to respond in case he was in fact using the bathroom and just hadn’t heard him till now. But there was no response and so he pushed the door open. His heart had dropped earlier, now it was drowning in his stomach acid at the sight of Haruto’s body sprawled on the floor, the water was still running in the sink but Chris moved first to Haruto’s side. The water bill didn’t matter, Haruto was filthy rich, and Mother Nature would just have to take a loss on this one for wasted water.

As he knelt beside him he noticed the vomit in the toilet, had he gotten sick while cooking? There was some dried blood still around his nostrils which explained why he kept finding blood spots in each room without sign of a weapon. Had he hit his head? Was it okay to move him? He reached for his wrist for his pulse and timed it against his watch, Haruto looked to be breathing just fine but he didn’t respond when Chris gently shook his shoulder. His phone was back out in a flash and he dialed in 119 to summon an ambulance. Other times he’d taken care of Haruto himself, but he didn’t listen to his instincts earlier and had left the house. He wasn’t going to ignore them a second time and risk his health just because he thought he could care for him.

Haruto never made it back to visit Yuki that afternoon and ended up being in and out of the emergency room for a couple weeks after that incident. It was determined that his body had built up resistance to his medication which was how he’d had a “partial” episode. The episode itself coupled with not eating had been the cause of his fainting, mostly just low blood pressure, the doctors assured Chris it wasn’t something to be too worried about. But it ended up being just the beginning. Haruto began refusing his medication again, and when he did take it he would find ways to throw it up later. His trances were more frequent, and when he had the strength he was glued to his chair in his work room. He was losing weight dangerously fast, a combination of his newest habit coupled with refusing to even eat. See after Chris gave up giving him the medication as is he began to hide it in his food but Haruto caught on and so stopped eating all together. He fainted two more times before being formally admitted to the hospital for round the clock care where they could force his medication. Of course they had to experiment with types and dosage to counter his built up immunity but at last they had found a combination that seemed to work. It was the middle of week four since he’d seen Yuki and Haruto was doing infinitely better. Of course having lost so much weight in such a short amount of time his already thin frame was skinny and he had very little energy to do much of anything. But he was calm. He was in a state of clarity at last and was eating small portions and not fighting his current medication. He hadn’t felt the song in his chest for a good five days and his doctor was finally contemplating his release--but someone had left Haruto alone and now that he was no longer sedated in bed for compliance his first thought was to visit Yuki. Was she still here? The fish weren’t here to show him the way…

But Haruto managed to find his way back to the burn ward, counting the doors aloud as he passed them like he was a kid keeping track. At last he reached Yuki’s room and could hear music playing from inside. That was new. She hadn’t listened to music during any of his prior visits. He pushed the door open but didn’t quite enter the room, rather he stood in the doorway watching her scribble in a notebook. There were several books. What had she immersed herself into during his absence? But then she noticed him and he smiled, stepping forward and closing the door behind him, ”My apologies, I was working,” Even the shapeless hospital gown he wore did little to hide his figure as he crossed his arms over his chest, ”It’s cold in here, no?”

He had moved over to the chair beside her bed and sat down, still hugging his frail self, ”I made lunch for you, but Kuriisu never brought it, did he?”
”It’s okay I’ll just make a new one, or maybe you can come over, it’ll be better fresh. I’ll tell Shiori-sensei later.” Haruto had skipped the invite portion of inviting her over and went straight to his plan with zero regard for the fact that she likely wouldn’t be allowed outside yet.

”I haven’t heard you listen to music in a very long time,” like a thousand years at least, ”I’ll bring you some later. I’m sure you miss you favorite songs.” He made a mental note to record said songs when he got home as they were rather old and he doubted any store would have their music these days.

”Is there anything else you’d like me to get? I have some of your things still that I saved from the fires.”​

 

[feelsHASkilig]

There he goes again with the mumbling. Through the tightness of the scars on her face, Jordin’s frown deepened as she watched Haruto walk into her room and take a seat at his usual spot. Wait. Usual spot? No. She reminded herself that he had lost that privilege when he suddenly ditched her two weeks ago without a word. He abandoned all rights to be considered her visitor. And as such, she had every right to kick him out and demand to never see him again.

But before she could do that, he started speaking again.

Her frown changed to pure annoyance as he spoke. The two weeks must have completely reversed all of his habits because he was once again speaking as if she had regular hearing. Last she was aware, her lack of functional ears were fairly clear to see. And yet, this pain in her ass was acting as if she was not a charred piece of leftover flesh on the hospital bed.

It didn’t take her long to realize that the reason she was having a hard time hearing him was because of the music playing in her room. For a moment, Jordin ignored Haruto’s ramblings about whatever he was going on about to focus on the speakers standing on a small table across the room. It occurred to her that very moment that the music was actually blasting. To her, she thought the music had been playing at a volume that was normal. But now that it was being compared to Mister Mumbles, she saw now that they were probably much louder.

The thing was, it wasn’t like she was listening to anything too extreme. She wasn’t listening to rock music or any pop song with a hard bass beat. No, she was listening to music with more complex compositions. They may not have been Cyrus complex, but it was the only music she could get her nurses to find for her in the hospital without spending anymore of her depleting funds. So the fact that she couldn’t hear Haruto over the music was saying a lot.

There was a point after Haruto’s long winded ramblings about whatever when Jordin completely forgot that he was actually there. It probably had something to do with ignoring him. But she focused all of her attention on the music still blasting through the speakers. She also noticed, although she felt an odd familiarity about it, that the music was somehow vibrating harder against the walls of her hospital room. When she turned her head to look for the cause, she hypothesized that it must have something to do with the now closed door. Wait, when did the door close?

Oh, right.

When Jordin returned her attention to her unwanted guest, she caught him looking at her as if he had been silently observing her for ages. If she were not badly scarred all across her face, he probably would have seen her face flush. She hated the way he looked at her so intensely. It always creeped her out.

“What?” she spat out. The harshness in her tone caused a tickle in her throat. Unable to hide her discomfort, she started coughing. Next moment, a bright plastic straw was in front of her face. She looked up momentarily at Haruto then accepted the cup of water without another word. When the water was pulled away, she purposely failed to thank him.

“If you’re going to keep talking,” she started carefully, acutely aware of her tone, “turn off the music so I can hear you. You’re mumbling again.” She motioned to the remote currently sitting on top of the small pile of books on her bedside.

She watched quietly while Haruto turned off the music. It was a tad unsettling to her how her room went from being extremely loud - even if not “loud” to her - to uncomfortably silent. A part of her considered telling him to turn the music back on just so that there was some other noise in the room. Even if she couldn’t hear it, at least the vibrations could be a comfort.

How the hell did she think that producing music was a good idea?

“What were you going on about?” she asked slowly.

As Haruto repeated whatever he had said earlier, Jordin strained her hearing to focus on his words. Turning off the music helped immensely. Apparently he had mentioned something about another one of his bento boxes and his nanny-manager. She decided not to give a response about it for fear that anything she said might be misinterpreted as interest. With her silence, he continued on the topic of music. As she continued to concentrate on his voice, Jordin once again looked at the stereo and speakers. Why was it so weird to him that she was listening to music? Sure, she hadn’t listened to music once in the months she had been in the hospital. But couldn’t that be explained away with the excuse that she was hardly awake enough to listen to music? Maybe. Maybe not. She was reminded of the surprised looks she got from the nurses at her music request.

At the mention of fires, Jordin’s attention snapped back to Haruto with a hard look. Since her face could no longer express how she was feeling, she could tell that Haruto would not be able to read how confused she felt. His visits taught her that he was terrible at reading the room while he was in his little cloud of crazy. And this was definitely one of those occasions.

As such, she decided to...entertain the crazy. “What...the hell are you talking about?” she started carefully. “What things?” A part of her was tempted to call him out on his crazy because last she knew, he was nowhere near her accident. How the hell could he have any of her “things”?

Then, not even missing a beat, he started listing out these “things”. Jordin stared at him incredulously. He really was crazy. None of these “things” that he was listing belonged to her. In fact, almost all of them were too ancient for them to belong to her. She was never one to be interested in old shit.

But then he mentioned something about a flute. Jordin had been about to tune him out once again when she felt a sudden rush of...nostalgia? No. That wasn’t it. But at the mention of a flute, Jordin couldn’t ignore the strange pressure against her chest. It wasn’t painful, and didn’t require morphine to alleviate it. But it also wasn’t going away.

In response to the internal reaction, Jordin sucked in a breath and felt her tense body flinch against her bandages. When she looked over at Haruto again, she studied the look on his face. Why did he always look at her as if he was expecting something from her?

She juggled with the pros and cons about what she wanted to ask next. Even if she was not entirely the smartest person in the world, she knew that if her body reacted the way it did toward a single word, it wanted answers. However, if she gave in to this curiosity, she knew that she would nose dive right into a rabbit hole she had been avoiding since Haruto’s first visit. If she gave in to her curiosity now, he would never leave. She knew that for a fact.

And she had done so well making him a distant memory.

But there was no escaping the intensity she felt over hearing him mention a flute; a flute that was apparently hers. She still could not pinpoint what this feelings was.

Suddenly, she noticed how dry her throat got. She cleared her throat and attempted to swallow a couple times to lubricate her throat. When this didn’t work, she pushed her minute sense of pride aside to motion to the cup of water once again.

After a couple sips, Jordin pulled her lips away from the straw and looked up at Haruto. She noticed how uncomfortably close he was to her. It was then that she saw his now gaunt figure hiding under his hospital gown.

“What flute?” she whispered.

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Yuki noticed from the first visit that the servants always led her to the side of the house. It wasn’t insulting, don’t get her wrong. Just a curiosity she played with in her mind every time she met with one of the house servants at the front gates. She had seen the front of the marvelous house once; when her mother and her teacher first discussed her lessons. Ever since then, she has not stepped foot inside the main part of the house.

As the servant slid the door open, Yuki pushed the curiosity to the back of her mind to prepare to greet her teacher. The moment the woman came into view, she bowed respectfully. Once she was instructed to come inside, she waited for the servant to take her leave before stepping inside. Without a word from her teacher, she took her place across from her at the table. Her mother, who had been following behind her, took her place to the side to silently observe today’s lesson.

She had started her lessons two months ago. Now that Yuki was a woman among society, she was quickly thrusted into her lessons to prepare her for the day that she would be married off. This was not a surprise to her. From birth, she was aware of her place in her family, as well as her duty. While her brother was set to follow in their father’s path, she was to be groomed to be the ideal match for a man of their status; whoever it would be. She never questioned these terms. It just is.

Her teacher was considered one of the best instructors in the country. Many of the women in their inner circle were groomed to be the best of wives to their husbands. Yuki’s mother ensured her that she would learn plenty in no time at all.

Her mother was right, of course.

Even in the one month they had begun her music lessons, Yuki felt confident around various instruments. She still had a long way to go, sure, but there was something...familiar about her abilities. Even her teacher noticed how easy it was for Yuki to grasp creating music. It was almost as if music came naturally to her.

“We will continue from your last lesson,” her teacher informed Yuki. She offered a courteous nod to acknowledge that she understood the instructions.

As soon as she was presented with her flute, Yuki respectfully took it and prepared for the beginning notes. Once her teacher strummed the first notes to begin the tune, Yuki joined in effortlessly.

The once quiet room was filled with the harmonious tune. As she played, Yuki felt as if she was being pulled away from her body to enjoy the music along with the other women in the room. Everything else around her faded away as she focused on the notes she played. She completely forgot about the constant judgments from her mother and her teacher; always finding a flaw in her abilities. She ignored the pressures she faced knowing she needed to quickly be ready to fulfill her duties as a woman in society. All of it no longer existed the moment she played the first note.

She remained in bliss until the last note. But even then, she held it for a second longer just to remain in the dreamland she created through the songs. It took her a moment to return to her reality. But when she did, she caught her teacher and her mother discussing how she had improved since their last lesson. Her mother was quick to brag that she had not practiced once at home. Yuki kept her eyes down during this exchange. She could feel the calculated look on her teacher’s face.

How she wanted to continue playing.

Instead of continuing with the rest of her lessons, Yuki was asked to step out of the room for a moment so that her teacher could have a quick word with her mother. She obeyed, handing her flute back before excusing herself respectfully from the room. Once a house servant slid the door open for her, she carefully stepped out and slipped back into her shoes.

She didn’t stray too far. Directly outside the room was a small garden so there was plenty to look at and observe while she waited.

However, just as she approached a bed of flowers that were beginning to bloom, Yuki felt as if she was being watched. She pulled her head up straight, staring at nothing at first. Then, she turned her head, although unsure why she felt compelled to turn it in the direction she did.

The first thing she noticed was the clothes. She concluded almost immediately that he was not a house servant. His clothes were refined unlike the dull garments of the house servants. He was definitely of similar status to her family.

Her eyes then trailed up to his face. Immediately she noted that his hair fell in front of his eyes in strange sections, as if it was clumped together by sweat. Maybe he had been in the middle of some strenuous activity?

That was when she realized that she had been staring. And just like that, all of her previous lessons rushed over her. She turned her body so that she was fully facing this man and bowed politely. “Ohayo gozaimasu,” she greeted in a clear voice. As she straightened up, she prayed for her flush to escape her cheeks.

Suddenly, another voice disrupted them. Having expected a male voice in return, Yuki was momentarily confused to hear a woman’s voice after her greeting. When she immediately realized his lips hadn’t even moved, she turned toward the direction of the voice and found that it had been her mother calling out to her.

“Come. Let us continue with your lessons,” her mother informed her. Yuki nodded in acknowledgment and returned to the room. It took all of her willpower to not look over at the stranger for fear of what her mother and her teacher would do or say.

She would quickly learn that while she had the willpower to avoid looking in his direction, escaping the memory of the way he looked at her would be her toughest obstacle.

JORDIN SPEECHtexttextYUKI SPEECHtexttextOTHER SPEECH

 

[JINFINITE]

CYRUS TO GO HERE WHEN I GET MY EXTERNAL DRIVE FROM THE OTHER ROOM

The sound of arrows whistling through the air filled the three walls of the dojo and Haruto’s trained eyes watched as those on either side of him hit the centers of their targets. His own target remained unscathed in front of him while just past it the surrounding trees and fencing wore his previous attempts. There were three of his arrows, none of which had hit his target, and his frustration over this was only worsening his aim with every shot he took.

What had suddenly come over him? This was not at all a difficult distance for him, he was neither ill nor injured and had gotten an adequate amount of sleep last night. So why was his performance suffering so? In fact, all morning he had been bothered by this feeling of unease, but he could not quite place what it was. He was not nervous for anything in particular. There was nothing going on in his life to warrant such an emotion, but even still there was this anticipation building up inside as though he would turn around at any moment and his life would be forever changed. For better or for worse he did not know and perhaps that unknown was what was pressuring him.

Haruto stood with his stance wide and his bow half drawn, his hand resting beside his face whilst he gathered his scattered and distracting thoughts so as to banish them from his mind. His eyes shut as he let out a long and slow exhale which he could feel on his own hand, eyes then opening with his inhale as he pulled back the string and proceeded to hold his breath as he focused his all on the circle across the yard.

The following seconds all happened so quickly that it was over well before Haruto could even process what was happening. His string had snapped, lashing back at him and whipping across his exposed forearm. But he had managed to release his arrow just beforehand and it whizzed across the distance towards his target. Maybe he would have hit it this time had his bow not broken, but as it was the breaking of his string threw his arrow off course.

He hissed in pain, his now empty hand grabbing at his arm knowing that there would be an ugly bruise soon enough to showcase his mistake. But when he looked back up he found that while he may have yet again missed his target, his arrow had shot straight into one of his prior attempts and split the shaft down the middle. The hairs on the back of his neck stood up at this as a cold eerie feeling ran through to his bones.

It was this feeling that had him pack away his broken bow and take his leave shortly after. It was difficult to describe without sounding crazy, but it just felt like there was some higher power at play here and Haruto wanted nothing to do with it. He was perfectly content with his boring life and messing with anything out of this realm did not appeal to him in the slightest. It was true he was not necessarily happy with his current life, but he was well off— rich even— and without much to worry about. He was just going to chalk this up to a bad day, go home because no doubt his mother had arranged some tea ceremony she wanted him to attend, and he’d return tomorrow to fix his bow and all would be well. He was probably just too deep in his head over having missed the first two arrows and then let his emotions get the better of him...yes, that had to be it.

As he entered his family’s property he was fixated on the purple bruising on his forearm, his fingers gingerly running over the swelling and knowing he needed to tend to it immediately if he didn’t want it to hurt twice as badly tomorrow. But as he cut through the gardens to reach the main house, that similar shiver from earlier in the dojo ran up his spine and stopped him in his tracks.

Now that he was still he was able to pick up on his surroundings, specifically on the music coming from one of the rooms adjacent to the garden. Hearing music in the garden was not new, his mother taught girls how to be women after all, and music lessons were a key stage in their schooling. But Haruto himself had such an ear for it that he found most of the young women to be mediocre at best. Quite often they sounded horrible to him, but his mother always insisted he was just too picky for finding faults in all her best musicians. But today...this was incredible. Whoever this woman was, she had been given a gift as there was no way his own mother had coaxed such skill out of some samurai’s daughter.

Even after the song ended he did not move from his spot. Haruto had this almost sense of dejavu even though he was absolutely certain he had never met another who could play like that. As familiar as it felt, it was still a stranger to him, and seeing her at last only further highlighted that point. He had never seen her before in his life, but her presence alone held his gaze as she walked out into the greenery. She had not yet seen him and Haruto himself was too transfixed to make himself known.

That eerie feeling that had been haunting him since the dojo was gone at last, replaced instead by this strange sense that this was the beginning of something. Beginning of what he did not know, only that this moment would become important.

He was honestly so mesmerized by this woman that he forgot to speak. At the very least he should have returned the greeting, but words absolutely escaped him in the moment until a third joined them from a distance. The older woman called her by name and summoned her back inside, ”Yuki...”
Her name escaped his lips as a whisper as the last glimpse of her back disappeared from view. His unnatural morning had completely slipped his mind by now, completely replaced by these thoughts of Yuki.

Who was she? Where did she learn to play so beautifully? Why was she so beautiful?

Haruto had never been attracted to others before, not like this. He had always been far too focused on kyudo, and not to mention that it was just a matter of time until his parents found a bride for him. So he had simply never paid attention to girls he passed on the street or who came to take lessons from his mother. But Yuki was stunning and left his feet frozen in place long after she left.

In fact Haruto completely lost track of how long he stayed in the gardens. He did eventually move to sit on the porch running along the sides of the house, but he just felt this magnetic pull that kept him from leaving. Instead he sat outside, listening to what he could of the lesson going on inside until it sounded like they were getting ready to leave at which point Haruto jumped to his feet and made himself scarce.

This quickly became his new routine. He would sit in the gardens anytime Yuki came over for a lesson, his heart melting to the sound of her flute when she played and his imagination running rampant whenever the lesson shifted away from music. It was during one of his mind’s wanderings that his mother finally caught him. Or at least, she came outside and saw him there, whether or not she suspected he had been listening was another matter, ”Ah, Haruto perfect. Come here please.”

”Would you please walk Yuki-chan home? She came alone today and it will be dark soon.”

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Haruto adjusted in his seat, his arms crossing tightly against his body as he seemed to tuck himself as far back into his chair as he could. Having slipped out of his own room he did not have any sort of jacket with him today; being this thin now left him weak against cool climates, and the burn ward always seemed to air on the colder side as the patients could not regulate their own temperatures. But that was the only clue into his own current condition as his eyes had lit up ever since the first mention of Yuki’s flute. There was a certain excitement to his voice and he showed no signs of stopping, ”Do you remember what I said to you that night while we walked? My mother surely would have beat me if she had heard it. I asked you if— ”

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”Could you play for me sometime?” Yuki’s footsteps slowed beside him and Haruto was quick to face her directly, his tied back hair flipping over his shoulder while his bangs fell into his eyes. But the lantern in his hand illuminated them all the same as he studied her expression before continuing on, ”It’s just— ever since that day I haven’t been able to stop thinking about you...about that song you had been playing.”

”I know this must sound insane and...I know we just met...but I feel like I’ve known you forever.”​