Archive of Our Own ^beta

He dreams.

“Karasuma.” The voice is gentle.

He rolls to his left and brings his comforter up to his face, only responding with a soft “Nghh.”

The voice sighs softly, but fondly. “Karasuma, it’s time to wake up.”

He doesn’t respond. Perhaps if he ignores the voice, they’ll go away and let him get up in peace.

Silence.

Then his bed creaks.

The mattress shifts and Karasuma suddenly feels a blaze of heat along his back.

He startles and turns towards the voice’s body. He catches a glimpse of a smile, and he reaches out, “T-.“

And he woke up, body smarting from its impact with the floor, legs tangled in his thin bedsheets, and hand still reaching.

“Eishi! Wake up, you’re going to be late for school!”

Karasuma let his hand fall and stared up at the ceiling.

Who was he reaching for? He remembered warmth, but the face of who he was dreaming of eluded him. He could feel an absence of something important but couldn’t figure out an absence of what.

A knock on his door. “I know it’s the last day before break but make sure you come down and eat breakfast.”

Karasuma shook his head. It was just a dream and nothing to lose his head over.

As he stumbled through his morning routine, he let his mind wander. With summer break just around the corner, perhaps the bird club would have more chances to meet up.

Well, only most of the bird club. Karasuma scowled at the mirror, though the effect was somewhat dampened by the toothpaste foam surrounding his mouth.

Maybe Takayama would finally decide to return to school today.

Takayama didn’t show up.

And he didn’t show up for his birthday either.

The bastard.

He wakes.

This time, sleep releases him from its grip smoothly, allowing Karasuma to sit up and lazily survey his room.

As he moves to get out of bed, Karasuma is arrested by the sight of his comforter.

It’s soft and gray, and he knows that his mother had packed it away weeks ago. Her voice echoes in his head, “It’s almost summer and if you sleep with a comforter you’ll overheat at night.”

It’s the same dream, Karasuma realizes, as the one he had a few days ago. He’s dreaming. The sunlight from the outside shines weakly on the back of his neck.

“Even after everything I’ve been through, I can still dream about a mundane life huh,” he mutters to himself as his feet search for slippers on the cool floor.

Karasuma walks through the hallway of his house, forgoing the bathroom—if this was a dream, he could probably pass on personal hygiene—and makes his way downstairs. The table in the living room is already set for two. Bowls of tamago gohan with freshly steamed rice sit next to plates of grilled fish. One side of the table houses a plate of chilled tofu while the other hosts a shallow dish full of natto.

Nearly all of it looks delicious and makes Karasuma’s stomach growl despite himself. But there’s something off about the scene. His mother always prepared fried eggs and toast in the mornings. Not to mention, the two of them both shared a dislike of natto. This breakfast wouldn’t be something that he expected of her. It’s like someone else had—

The fond greeting of, “Morning,” is drowned out by his ungodly shriek as arms wrap around his waist. A warmth that beats the sun from outside his room by far settles in the angle of his neck and it radiates heat through Karasuma’s thin shirt.

The teen quickly twists around to glimpse the main character of this show. If it was the same dream, then it must be the same person that he had dreamed of days ago. He catches the edge of a smile again before he jerked back at the sensation of pain blooming across his forehead.

“Ow,” Karasuma whined and placed a hand over the smarting wound.

He was back in his room, white bedsheets lying innocently across his waist. His eyes offered him a pleasant, up-close view of his bedroom wall which he had evidently collided with while sleeping.

The sun from outside his window beat down warmly on his prone form, oblivious as always to the teenager’s suffering.

He had a few clues.

The voice from his dreams was taller than him (not many people weren’t), had a penchant for smiling, most likely did not possess long hair, and was so very, very warm.

Granted, they weren’t the best of clues.

The voice hadn’t said much in his second dream, but from what little it had said in his first dream, Karasuma thought the voice might be male. But he wasn’t one-hundred percent confident in that assumption. The finer qualities of the dreams continued to fade as time passed, leaving him less and less information to work with.

Then there was his greatest clue.

The voice’s name started with T.

Subconsciously, his mind knew who he was dreaming of, even if his conscious had yet to catch up.

Karasuma scowled at the ground. With dreams, absolutely anyone he had ever met could’ve appeared.

He knew quite a few people that fit the bill, there was Tanaka-sensei from elementary school, Takeshi from class last year, Tachibana from his old cram school, or even—

“Karasuma!” Umino Tsubame. “Sorry, did I keep you waiting?”

She blitzed in commenting about the weather and how she couldn’t wait to go get kakigori. He wondered at the likelihood. Sure, he called her Umino, but maybe his dream-self had already taken the steps to address her by first name?

Karasuma eyed her as he commentated on her uniform. It was true she was taller than him, and also had short hair. Considering the intimacy of the dreams that took place in his home and bed, it was more likely for him to be dreaming of a friend than a stranger, right?

But then he had more important things to think about than oddly domestic dreams. Umino was a member of his flock, a member of his newfound family, and she was hurting all alone without letting them in. He sincerely meant it when he tweeted her that she was no longer a stranger because seeing her emotional turmoil made his heart ache in time with hers. It was a far cry from his general apathy yet great anxiety of other people from months ago.

If there was a plane of thought that hummed in the back of his mind all day that kept poking at the possibility of Umino starring in his dreams, he ignored it.

If there was another plane that reminded Karasuma that he knew someone else he could possibly classify as a friend whose name started with a T, he refused to acknowledge it. He told himself that he had no patience for those who leave and refuse to come back, whether they be of blood or found family.

He told himself he was not waiting for anyone to return and that he was not afraid of being forgotten.

Low fidelity murmurs are all Karasuma can hear. At first, his eyes are drawn to the screen mounted on the wall, where black and white figures ghost through gray rooms. Everything other than the screen is shrouded in shadow. He blinks, but his sense of color refuses to return. He tries to tilt his head to see if that changes anything, but finds his movement impeded.

“Hrgnh…” Karasuma shivers at the sensation of air on his neck. It had always been a rather sensitive spot.

Out of the corner of his eye, he glimpses Umino in full color, dozing with her head on his shoulder. From this angle, he can see the delicate sweep of her eyelashes over her cheeks and the movement of her eyes underneath her eyelids. She seems to be dreaming peacefully.

Unbidden, a fond smile crosses his face.

“Ei-chan! We got the popcorn!” A large figure holding a large bowl of popcorn blocks Karasuma’s view of the television. Kamoda grins widely down at him.

Meanwhile, another bowl finds itself onto Karasuma’s lap as Sagisawa flops belly-down onto the couch on his left.

“Come on, Kamoda, sit down and watch the movie.” Sagisawa turns to his side and props his head on his right hand for a better view. Karasuma can feel the crown of the other boy’s head against his side.

“Pipe down!” He furiously whispers as Kamoda settles on the floor against his calves. “Umino is sleeping.”

“Hehe,” there’s a giggle muffled into Karasuma’s shoulder. “It’s okay, Karasuma. I’m up now.” Though awake, Umino doesn’t move from her spot draped over him and the heat of her comforts him.

The boy huffs softly and selects a satisfactory piece of popcorn from the bowl in his lap to occupy his mouth with.

“Don’t be a stranger, Takayama. Come sit with us.”

The movie on the screen shifts to a scene outside in midday. The white of the sky illuminates the room and reveals Takayama, perched on the arm of a loveseat. He meets Karasuma’s gaze and the boy finds it impossible to look away. Each and every time, as Takayama looks to him, eyes staring out from the shadows of his face, Karasuma always feels compelled to answer.

“Yeah! There’s room next to me.” Kamoda shuffles to the left, leaving Karasuma’s right leg cold.

Takayama smiles and the air in the room feels thin, like flying though the high skies without a helmet.

Moments later, heat returns to Karasuma’s right calf. Takayama feels warmer than all of the other birdmen pressed against his sides. Karasuma tells himself it was the contrast created by the cool room air that’s altering his perception.

“What’s this movie about, Rei?” Umino inquires. Figures, of course Sagisawa would choose a black and white film.

Karasuma snorts, “Does it matter? Sagisawa always choses the same type of movies.”

“Can I choose the next one?” Kamoda cranes his head back against Karasuma’s knee.

Sagisawa laughs. “Kamoda, the last time you chose a movie you chose that documentary about cats in Istanbul.”

Kamoda evidently sees nothing wrong with this.

Umino is first to laugh, quickly followed by Sagisawa. Karasuma can’t help also laughing at Kamoda’s expression of exaggerated sorrow. What surprises him most is that while he cannot hear it, he can feel the vibrations through his leg as Takayama joins in, chuckling.

Surrounded by his friends, Karasuma’s heart feels full.

For some reason, when Karasuma was browsing the web for birdmen news a few days later and found an article about a lone birdman saving passengers of a wrecked German train, he felt his heart skip a beat. He remembered the laughter of his dreams and his anger at the other teen was overwhelmed by his sense of relief.

Takayama was safe. He was healthy. He was still rescuing other people with that stupid, precious savior complex of his.

Karasuma was so relieved that later that day, as the bird club sans Takayama responded to their own cry for help, he couldn’t even find it in himself to resent the boy for leaving them all behind.

Not all of Karasuma got the memo though.

“You!” The fabric of their school uniform crinkles easily in his grip. “Did you think you could just save us, change our lives, and walk away!?”

Wind gusts through the school rooftop and brings their hair to life but Karasuma pays the bangs whipping across his field of view no mind. He only has eyes for the boy in front of him. “You had to stay when we couldn’t defend ourselves, but the moment we could you took your chance! And now you’ve left us here while you fly all over the world saving whoever catches your fancy, huh!?”

Karasuma shakes the shirt in his hands, but Takayama doesn’t even wobble. The taller boy opens his mouth to respond, but Karasuma cuts him off. He’s not done yet.

“Did you think that because we could function without you, it would be okay to leave?” The wind blows stronger while distant lightning cracks between storm-gray rainclouds, and Karasuma knows it would be thrilling to fly on the edge of danger. But it feels like his feet are cemented to the ground, like his wings have been clipped.

“Did you think that it wouldn’t hurt us!?” This time when he tugs, Takayama does stumble forward. He’s close enough that Karasuma can see the fine black lines in his dark irises.

“We didn’t even know if you were dead.”

Takayama takes in his tirade the same way he took in the fact that dead bodies could still be cherished by grieving family members all those weeks ago. It’s as if these facts have never occurred to him before and that he’s only learning them now. It’s infuriating how he doesn’t understand. It’s infuriating how Karasuma doesn’t know how to teach him that there is more to pain than just the physical. It’s heart wrenching that Karasuma feels the need to do so.

“You would’ve felt it if I had died,” Takayama’s gaze drifts away, “probably.” His mouth opens to say more but even though for the past few weeks, all he had been searching for were answers, Karasuma no longer wants to hear them. He’s finally figured it out, what could be going on in the other boy’s head, and can already imagine what he might say. Instead, what Karasuma wants in this moment is for Takayama to look at him, for him to stop looking at the sky and remember there are still people right next to him. People who are willing to fly with him instead of chaining him down to the ground.

“Look at me.” Thunder rumbles as Karasuma pulls Takayama even closer and downwards. He thinks he sees a flash of surprise in the boy’s eyes before Karasuma screws his own shut.

The clash of their mouths is almost painful from the amount of force Karasuma has used but he persists. Their noses are smashed together at first, but once Karasuma tilts his head, their lips slot together. Takayama is unresponsive, and it makes Karasuma’s blood boil.

He clutches the clothing in his hands even tighter, creating irreversible wrinkles, as Karasuma seeks out Takayama’s lower lip and bites. He can smell the tang of copper like a 10-yen coin.

Finally, finally, Takayama gasps. Karasuma’s eyes fly open and he can see the other boy staring straight back at him as they break away. Good.

He loosens his death grip and lays his palms flat against Takayama’s chest. He can feel the other’s heart beating fast. He’s flushed and by now the wind has made his hair a mess. Karasuma’s fingers twitch but he keeps them still.

Takayama doesn’t pull away. Instead, his hands come up to Karasuma’s face. They pause for one moment, mere centimeters away from his skin, as if hesitant. Karasuma only stares upwards.

Takayama’s hands settle against his cheeks. One of his thumbs makes a slow sweep, passing by the corner of Karasuma’s eye.

“You’re crying.”

Karasuma is horrified to realize he is.

He makes to pull himself away, but one of Takayama’s hands drops to his shoulder, keeping him in place.

“I’m sorry.” Karasuma can hear the other boy’s sincerity. How he may not completely understand, but is trying to.

Karasuma gasps as he can feel tears start to drip down his cheeks. He can feel his anger crumbling away like sand. So much of it is still there, simmering beneath just like the mantle of the earth, but the simple acknowledgement cools the volcanos erupting on the surface. He never realized that he needed Takayama to know how much pain he had inflicted on them. On him. How he hadn’t just flown away and never looked back.

The wind has calmed but lightning still arcs across the skies. Thunder rolls through the duo and Karasuma can almost feel the rumble in his chest.

Takayama’s thumb wipes away more of his tears. “This isn’t what I meant to do.”

Karasuma sniffs once and says, “I know.”

“I’m sorry.”

“You’ve said that.”

Takayama bites his lip softly but stops halfway through the motion. His tongue peeks out of his mouth and licks the blood away.

Karasuma, entranced, watches with blurry eyes, and it’s almost as if he were human again.

He lets his eyelids fall and leans ever so slightly into Takayama’s hand. His anger has drained him, and the other’s palm is so warm.

He can feel the hand moving, fingertips brushing the fine hairs near the back of his neck, thumb trailing down his face from the corner of his eye to the corner of his lips.

Karasuma opens his eyes just as Takayama leans in.

His eyes slide shut again.

It starts to pour, and he woke up with tear tracks drying on his cheeks.

The first day back at school passed by as if he were in a trance. He paid no attention to his surroundings and floated through his classes. Kamoda and Sagisawa had tweeted at him, curious, and just a bit worried, about his absentminded state.

Karasuma would liken it to dreaming, expect for the fact that his dreams were the main root of his worries. Looking back now, he had to acknowledge the strong possibility that his initial domestic dreams really did feature Takayama. Those, on top of his dream last night, left him off-balance.

As if he didn’t have enough on his plate with the bird club and Eden.

He knew he held some resentment towards the missing bird club member for leaving without saying anything. Even Umino could sense it. The girl had kept quiet about the subject of her affections when talking to him, even though Karasuma was sure his absence affected her as well.

He supposed it was selfish of him to feel grateful for that.

So yes, he was holding a lot of anger in his heart and even just dreaming about screaming in Takayama’s face offered him some small form of satisfaction. If he had been the type to prefer physical violence, he probably would’ve punched the other boy in his face.

But a kiss!?

It wasn’t as if Karasuma had ever even entertained the thought of being affectionate with Takayama before. He had enough trouble just holding the other boy’s hand! So, where in the depths of his subconscious had a kiss come from?

It wasn’t as if he liked Takayama in that way either. Yes, he had been angry and hurt when the birdman had left without a word. But Karasuma was sure he would’ve held the same feelings toward any other person he felt close to that left in a similar manner. He had proof of that.

Karasuma was just hyperaware of ever touching the other boy, constantly combed through the internet for any clue of his whereabouts, and dreamed about him more often than not.

…No way.

Could he have a crush on Takayama? On Takayama “You’d Better Stay Away from Me” Sou?

No way!!

“Look, he’s changed form!”

“Wow, it’s like switching a card from attack mode to defense mode.”

Voices broke through his tornado of thought and Karasuma shifted his index finger to peek out from his so-called “no-face form” at his fellow birdmen before dropping his hands altogether.

“What are you two doing?”

“School’s over, Ei-chan. We have a bird club meeting soon!” Kamoda yawned, head pillowed on his arms as he sat backwards on the seat in front of the brooding boy.

Karasuma hadn’t even noticed all his classmates leaving.

Sagisawa, on the other hand had taken a seat on the desk to Karasuma’s right. He gazed out the window, eyes drifting. “You have a great view of the sky from here.” He paused. “Didn’t that used to be Takayama’s seat?”

Karasuma followed his stare without seeing. Instead, all he could think of was how Takayama would sit here and always be looking out, looking away.

“Yeah.”

His seat scraped against the school floors as Karasuma stood up. He’d think about any possible feelings he might have later. He stooped to grab his bag and addressed his friends, “Sorry for the wait, let’s go.”

Kamoda cheered and collected his bag to follow Karasuma out the classroom.

Sagisawa, however, took his time and by the time Karasuma had opened the door, still hadn’t moved away from the corner of the room.

“Sagisawa?”

Their eyes met for a moment before the taller teen smiled.

“Sorry, I was just thinking. I’m coming.”

It’s dark, but his eyes are open. Hands hover close to his face, blocking his vision.

“Where are you taking me?”

The voice that responds is much, much closer than Karasuma expects and he shivers.

“I’m not supposed to tell.”

“Supposed to?” Karasuma retorts as best he can while he tries to maintain his footing. He prays to whatever god is out there that he doesn’t trip. Bare arms that radiate heat through Karasuma’s clothes to his shoulders guide the way, but every so often a chest bumps against his back.

“I asked for some help.”

“Help with wh—ah!” Karasuma’s question is cut off as his foot snags against something, proving that either there are no gods, or that they have better things to do than save one boy from embarrassment.

He pitches forward and his hands reach out, preparing for a fall. Instead, arms grip his stomach solidly, stealing the air out of his lungs and flooding Karasuma’s vision with color.

As he straightens, it takes him a second longer to catch his breath than usual. He’s in a familiar place, but his surroundings almost look like they’ve traveled to a fantasy realm.

Maples sway, full of deep crimsons and plums, shedding their burdens with every gentle breeze. The green of the grass only peeks through the gaps of fallen leaves while ginkgo trees dominate the background, painting mountains of yellow-ochre. The setting sun casts a warm orange filter over the whole scene as a finishing touch.

Karasuma just stares for a moment, taking it all in. He pays the arms retreating back no mind.

“This was my favorite time to come here.”

He turns and Takayama meets his gaze, standing a few feet away.

They’re both in their school uniforms, Karasuma realizes. Takayama has foregone his blazer but kept his tie. A quick glance down confirms that Karasuma is wearing his usual sweater vest.

“Why are we here?”

“I didn’t know how to apologize,” the ambient light softens the boy’s face. “So, I asked for help. Someone told me that dancing would work, and this was the only place I could think of.” He stretches an arm out as an offering.

Karasuma stares at the hand before returning his gaze to the other’s face.

“Who- never mind, I guess that doesn’t matter. You want to dance with me?”

“Yes.” It seems like Takayama is set on his goal.

The hand is still waiting.

Now, Karasuma flushes. “You’re always doing things like this. Have you ever heard of personal space before?” The other cocks his head and Karasuma had really meant that as a rhetorical question. “On top of that, how do you expect to dance without any music?”

At that, the hand finally retreats and Takayama’s eyes widen. He looks a little pitiful.

Karasuma groans and tries to keep the amusement he feels out of it. Of course, Takayama would forget the music when asking someone to dance.

He fishes his phone out of his pocket, declaring, “I’ll help you out today.” But, as he browses through his music, he glances sharply at the other boy. “I’m not saying that dancing is the right way to apologize to someone or that I’ll forgive you because of this. Or that I particularly like to dance.” He continues to scroll, focusing more on his words than his song selection.

”But the sentiment is…nice. And it would be rude to just reject something that you’ve obviously put a lot of thought into. Is there any kind of music in particular that you like?”

A change in lighting tears his attention away from his phone. Takayama has stepped close and the backlighting from the sun casts him in monochrome.

“Anything you like is fine.”

Typical Takayama.

Screw it. Karasuma presses play on whatever he has currently selected. Nujabes drifts from his phone and the warm, relaxed beats instantly dissipate the tension in his shoulders. While it’s not a usual part of Karasuma’s music choice, it’s an oddly appropriate genre for the mood.

He drops his phone back into his pocket and looks to Takayama who hasn’t moved.

“Well?” He clears his throat and his blush returns in full force. “I thought you wanted to dance.”

Takayama smiles and takes one more step forward. Hands settle near Karasuma’s waist—somehow, he’s not surprised that Takayama went straight for the most intimate form of dancing.

At a loss for a comfortable place to put his hands, Karasuma settles for the other’s shoulders.

“You want to dance like this?”

“You don’t like it when we hold hands.” Takayama’s face is open as always. That’s not to say it’s readable, but his honesty is evident. Karasuma looks down at their shoes.

They sway in time with the music, and when Takayama slowly starts to move them in a circle, Karasuma lets him. Leaves crackle underneath their footsteps.

They’re close, but the shorter boy knows they could be closer. Impulsively, he takes a half-step forwards and they’re almost nose to nose.

Woah, woah, that was much closer than he expected. His hands dangle behind Takayama’s back and the taller boy’s arms almost wrap around his entire waist.

Takayama’s hair ruffles in the wind and while most of Karasuma is currently experiencing a mental overload, one small part of him notices and his fingers itch.

Before Karasuma can do anything else self-destructive, Takayama stops their movement and raises one of his hands to Karasuma’s head.

He comes away with a leaf, dyed red. He looks between both it and Karasuma a few times before placing it back on his head.

“Hey, what was that for?” Karasuma scowls and lifts his own arm to brush away the offending object.

“It looks nice.” His arm halts in its tracks. “It’s the color same as your blush,” the teen adds without any embarrassment.

In contrast, Karasuma thinks that his face might’ve just spontaneously combusted. He probably is the same shade of deep red as the stupid leaf. He pushes the other back without meeting resistance and looks away.

“You can’t just say things like that,” he splutters.

“Why not?” Wind delivers a few more stray leaves, and Takayama picks one out of the air. It’s also ruby red and he twirls the stem. “It’s a good color on you.” If anyone were to ask Karasuma, he’d say that the color suited Takayama much better, but only after significant probing. He was the one with red markings in his bird suit after all.

“Why- why not?” Karasuma eyes the other boy. “It’s not like you’ve ever paid attention to looks before.”

“I was told that compliments might also help.”

This, for some reason, upsets Karasuma more than the compliments themselves.

“What have you been getting advice for!? An apology or a d-date?” Karasuma crosses his arms and scowls at his stumble over words. “You shouldn’t give insincere flattery either. People find it rude.”

“But I think it’s true.” Karasuma was sure his blush was permanently stuck to his face at this point. “And you might be misunderstanding something. It doesn’t matter if this is an apology or a date, as long as you’re no longer mad. Are you?”

He stares at the other, and then looks away. The sun has almost set, but it still burns afterimages into Karasuma’s retinas.

“I never knew that you cared so much about what others thought.”

“You told me that I hurt you.”

Karasuma swallows and continues to watch the sun slip behind the horizon.

“I-” He clears his throat.

“Things like anger and pain don’t always just disappear instantly,” he says without looking back at the other boy, “…but, this- this helped.” Right before the sun completely vanishes, it morphs. Instead of leaving behind darkness, white stretches across the earth and sky, as if a painter had brandished a brush across canvas to erase their creation.

The white encroaches and Karasuma looks to Takayama as he instinctively calls his wings. But the other boy only smiles and says, “Good,” before he, too, is erased.

Everything is white.

Everything is nothing.

Karasuma floats.

Where is this?

He woke up in a cold sweat and a sensation that felt like static electricity on his back.

For the next few days, Karasuma slept fitfully.

Takayama was as absent from his dreams as he was from Tokyo. Instead, whenever he did dream, all Karasuma could remember was an expanse of white. Or, rather than white, he supposed it seemed more apt to call it an absence of any color. An absence of any stains, or imperfections—except for him. Each and every time, Karasuma would wake, gasping, with the wings on his back itching to burst out of his skin.

Kamoda had called them white outs.

Hah. If white outs were the opposite of black outs and black outs were the manifestations of a birdman’s inner anxiety and fears, then according to definition, white outs should result from Karasuma’s inner serenity and faith. They wouldn’t make him wake up in cold sweat or make his tattoo crawl.

No, if these were white outs, then they had to mean something else.

But what could they be? Karasuma cast his gaze to the blackboard in front of the classroom. Lines and mathematical equations covered the board, but he only vaguely understood the subject material. It all felt so irrelevant to him.

Ugh, Karasuma let his head fall into his arms on his desk. There wasn’t enough information about the dreams to draw solid conclusions. He couldn’t even say for sure that they were related to his birdmen status since he was the only member of the club who was getting them.

He shifted his head so that his left eye peeked out of the circle of his arms. The sky was dotted with clouds today, and the sun still shone brilliantly. The clouds reflected the sun’s light and Karasuma mused that was what real white looked like. He set aside the matter of white outs for later and let his mind drift with the clouds as he yawned.

Birds flew by in the distance and they were so small that Karasuma could pretend they were birdmen if he was so inclined. But instead, they reminded him of a subject that took far too many of his thoughts.

He scowled. His subconscious was getting out of control. First a kiss, and now dancing? He’d only been to Takayama’s hideaway once, all those months ago in the spring. He never thought he’d be able to imagine it in the midst of autumn’s bloom. It was hard to believe that it really was his dream.

It hadn’t been unenjoyable though.

Images of Takayama up close as they danced flashed through Karasuma’s mind. He could almost feel the light autumn chill and hear the other boy say, “It’s a good color on you.”

His traitorous heart skipped a beat and Karasuma buried his head in the safe darkness his arms offered.

He couldn’t deny it any longer. He had to face the facts and empirical evidence to conclude that he had a crush. On Takayama.

Was he an idiot!?

This was thousands of times worse than his crush on Umino. He changed from crushing on a girl to crushing on her crush! He really had to be a masochist, there was no other way this made sense. Why else would he be pining—him, pining!—after an idiot with no social skills and a need to save anyone who found themselves in danger?

In a way, Takayama was even more unattainable than Umino was. Umino, at least, was within arm’s reach. Karasuma could understand her thoughts and motivations. Takayama, on the other hand, had always flown his own way from the beginning. While their paths may have crossed, they didn’t converge.

Nothing would come out of these feelings except for dreams.

Okay. Well, if this was his lot in life, Karasuma would deal with it. He wasn’t one to just mope around.

People got crushes all the time and managed to handle their daily lives just fine. One crush was not going to control Karasuma’s life. It didn’t change who Karasuma was or who Takayama was either.

And it wasn’t as if he was missing out on his youth. Those dreams had died along with Karasuma on the bus. Birdmen and humans were two distinct species, so he didn’t have some epic middle school romance to look forward to. It was also entirely possible that Karasuma could’ve fallen for the other as a human. Takayama had always had that handsome, mysterious air that attracted admirers.

…Had he called Takayama handsome?

Karasuma took a deep breath and stared ahead into the dark. This was okay, it was just an objective fact and there was nothing to stress over. Water was wet. Flying was freeing. Takayama was handsome. Anyone with eyes could see that.

He barely saw Takayama on a daily basis—or at all—these days anyway. It was only in his non-white out dreams, and those weren’t hurting anyone. They were actually quite pleasant, though plenty embarrassing once Karasuma woke up.

So, all he had was a crush and a few harmless dreams. Once he got used to doing things like calling Takayama handsome in the safety of his head, Karasuma was sure he could handle that easily.

He stifled a yawn. The previous nights were taking their toll and he let his eyelids draw another layer of black over his vision.

It’s dark.

But there’s a light that Karasuma reaches for.

Then everything is white.

But he’s not alone.

“Oh,” he thinks, he says, he breathes, “I see.”

“You were here.”

Harmless dreams of Takayama, his ass.

“Hey, Kamoda, do you still have a crush on Umino?”

“Eh?” Kamoda stopped in his tracks and looked at his friend in confusion. Karasuma paid his actions no mind and kept walking. They had a meeting to get to. Unwilling to be left behind, Kamoda caught up in two quick strides.

“Why do you ask, Ei-chan?” The taller teen considered for a moment before continuing, “Could it be that you-“

“Shut up and answer the question.” Karasuma looked to the street at the cars passing by. “You always confess to the girl you like so quickly, but you never said anything to Umino.”

At this, Kamoda let out a considering noise and put his hands behind his head.

“I guess I got used to her cuteness!”

“Hah?”

“She’s still really cute! But whenever I look at her all I can see is Tsubame. My heart doesn’t start beating fast or anything.” Kamoda knocked a fist against his chest in emphasis.

The two had reached their destination and stepped into the fast food restaurant. As they lined up to order Karasuma considered the information he was given.

Could he get used to Takayama’s uh- to Takayama?

Karasuma thought of a shadowed smile and felt a quiver run up his spine. No, he didn’t think that was an option.

“Ei-chan, look!” A hand that felt like an iron clamp shook Karasuma’s shoulder. “They have a limited-time deliciously rich chocolate shake!”

“What have I told you about your grip!?” the boy screeched. Thankfully, Kamoda let go and instead pointed at the large menu sign displaying the drink that caught his eye.

“See?”

“Yeah, I see it. Why don’t you get it for yourself?”

“You don’t want one?”

“Nah, I’ll just get a soda.”

Kamoda was silent as Karasuma ordered their drinks. After the shorter boy filled his cup from the soda machine and returned to his side to wait for Kamoda’s shake, he asked, “Do you have a crush on Tsubame?”

Karasuma snorted softly. “No, I don’t.”

“Order number 58!”

“Go on,” Karasuma nudged his friend in the side. “That’s our number.”

It took all of five seconds for Kamoda to retrieve his drink and they snagged a somewhat secluded table of four.

“You know, Ei-chan, if you get a girlfriend before I do, I don’t think I’ll ever forgive you.”

Privately, Karasuma thought that Kamoda had nothing to worry about. But out loud, he scoffed, “As if I’d be looking for a girlfriend when we’re in a situation like this. Are you?”

“Of course! You never know when you might find love!” Kamoda took a large gulp of his drink and instantly regretted it. His face contorted, nose scrunching, and he gasped, “Brain freeze.”

Karasuma snickered and said, “That’s what you get for drinking so fast.” Noticing Sagisawa at the entrance, he waved a hand at the other boy.

Face still full of pain, Kamoda made grabbing hands towards Karasuma’s drink but the raven-haired boy snatched it away.

“This is soda, idiot! It’s not going to help you!”

Kamoda frowned and stood up. He managed to get out, “Bathroom,” before absconding.

“Where’s he going in such a rush?”

Sagisawa stood next the table, drink in hand.

“Bathroom.” Karasuma gestured to the booth across the table from himself. “Come sit.”

The brunette slid into the seat with more grace than Karasuma was sure in all of his bones combined.

Their eyes met before Karasuma looked down to drink.

“Your eye bags are getting worse. Have gotten any sleep lately?”

“I-“ Karasuma opened his mouth to respond before he looked at the Trickster. This was Sagisawa.

“Some,” he admitted. “It’s harder falling asleep than anything.”

“And you’re still having white outs?”

“Yeah.” Karasuma took another sip from his drink. “But they’re changing. Everything is still white, but lately Takayama is there with me.”

“Takayama?” Sagisawa inquired quickly as he leaned closer.

Karasuma eyed the other boy before nodding. “He doesn’t look normal though. He’s in his bird suit without a helmet. But while he still has his red markings, everything else about him is white, even his skin and hair. And he has six sets of giant feathered wings.”

Sagisawa took a moment to consider what the other boy had told him. He absentmindedly waved and Karasuma twisted around in his seat to see Umino and Kamoda chatting near the entrance. They both waved at him and he waved back.

“Did you know that seraphim in the Bible are known to have six pairs of wings?”

Karasuma twisted back.

“Are you saying Takayama turned into an angel?” His cheeks flushed a little involuntarily.

Cheek in hand, Sagisawa replied, “No, I was just wondering if you knew.”

No matter what Sagisawa said, Karasuma’s mind briefly latched onto the train of thought. Takayama wasn’t dead, right?

“You would’ve felt it if I had died,” echoed in his brain.

The words comforted Karasuma much more than they should, considering they came from a figment of his imagination.

“Karasuma? Is there something else bothering you?”

Karasuma’s eyes flickered over his friend as he thought. Sure, Takayama starred a role in both his normal dreams and white outs, but he didn’t think the two were necessarily related.

He’d keep his crush to himself a little while longer.

“No, nothing else. I was just…thinking about other dreams.”

“Hi, guys! Sorry I took so long.” Umino and Kamoda had arrived at the table.

“Don’t apologize,” Sagisawa smiled, ever charming. “I only got here a few minutes ago.”

 The two took their seats, Kamoda next to Karasuma and Umino in the booth with Sagisawa.

“Were you two talking about something before?” Umino played with the straw of her drink.

Karasuma saw Sagisawa glance at him out of the corner of his eye as he said, “Just small talk.”

“So, what’s this meeting about?” Kamoda took another gulp of his shake, careful enough to avoid another brain freeze.

Karasuma surveyed the table full of his friends and fellow birdmen.

“You all got business cards too, right? Let’s see them.”

Karasuma had a plan and they had a lot to do.

Takayama is always waiting.

His arm is always reaching out.

Karasuma answers.

Except-

Karasuma is always the only imperfection in this unreal world of white.

The night Karasuma was convinced—or more accurately, coerced—to let the rest of the bird club, now including Irene, leave Tokyo along with him, Umino asked him for a moment of his time.

The wind flew past them on their perch near the top of Tokyo Skytree tower.

“What did you want to talk about, Umino?”

Karasuma’s mind swirled with possibilities. Was she having second thoughts about leaving? She was their Linker, so maybe she was having trouble always overwriting other people’s minds?

Umino was silent. Karasuma watched as she fiddled with the tips of her wings.

She looked up at him, eyes clear, and asked, “Are you okay!?”

Not what he expected.

“Of course I’m okay,” was his instinctive answer. “Is there something wrong?”

“I’ve been thinking about this for a while, but I was always afraid to ask.” She looked down at her hands. “But if we hadn’t stopped you tonight, you would’ve left us all behind.”

She looked back up at him again, blinking fast. “When Takayama disappeared, I still had so many things to say to him and tonight reminded me that I need to take my chances before they slip away.”

She took one hop to glide close. “You were the closest to Takayama, so I want to ask again: Are you okay?”

Karasuma thought it was ironic how his behavior reminded his former crush about her crush, who happened to be his as well. Their noses were mere millimeters apart, and his heart beat steady.

“Yeah,” he said. “I’m okay.”

His dreams were still full of white, but the closer Karasuma came to leaving Tokyo, the more the itch in his wings settled. He’d come to peace with his feelings towards his crush as well—whether those emotions were anger or affection. He was probably the most okay he’d been since Takayama had left.

Umino breathed out gustily and grinned, eyes bright. “I’m glad!”

“But what about you?” He, like her, had never asked her about this. But if there was ever a time to broach the subject, it was now. “You like Takayama, right? Are you okay?”

Umino pouted and spun along the edge of the platform without fear.

“You made me cry, Karasuma, and you ask me if I’m okay now?”

The raven-haired boy flushed and spluttered.

However, he was saved by the sound of Umino’s laughter. “I’m just teasing! And, yes, I’m okay now.”

She clasped her hands behind her back as she stared out over the city lights. Her ink black wing mass was pulled close and he could only tell where her body was from a lack of stars. “I liked Takayama because he was a hero to me. He saved us all and showed us a brand-new world. But once he left, I realized that it wasn’t fair to him to just put him on a pedestal and pretend he was perfect.”

Karasuma stared at her as the night lights reflected off her hair. “You have a mature side to you too, huh.”

 She turned on him, “Of course I do! You can be so mean sometimes, Karasuma.” She looked upwards and put a finger on her chin. “But you can be like a hero sometimes too.”

What? “What do you mean by hero?”

She smiled, “Someone who can give others courage!”

Was that supposed to clear up his confusion? “What are you talking about?”

“If you don’t realize it, don’t worry about it! It’s just part of what makes Karasuma, Karasuma.” The girl glanced at her phone before almost dropping it in shock. “Oh no! It’s so late, my mom will be worried. I gotta go.”

Without further ado, she launched herself at him for a hug. It was only due to his quick birdmen reflexes and buffeting of air with his wings that stopped the two from freefalling off the tower.

“Umino?” he stared at the girl in his arms with wide eyes.

“Call me Tsubame! After all, we’re family, aren’t we? Both Rei and Kamo-chan call me that already anyway.” She squeezed him tight one more time before letting go.

“I’ll see you tomorrow, Karasuma!”

And with one powerful leap, she became a bird in the sky.

Karasuma, dazed, watched her fly away.

A few moments later, he couldn’t help but laugh.

Umino—no. Tsubame was a singular girl and Karasuma hoped she’d never change.

The dark sky is nearly blanketed by dull clouds.

Karasuma can sense him high above and he stops in the middle of an empty crosswalk.

“Takayama! You’re flying around right?”

He can almost hear the smile in the returning tweet of, “You come up too.”

Karasuma doesn’t respond but is streaking up towards the sky only minutes later.

“Where are you?”

His tweet is met with dead air and Karasuma huffs. They’re doing this the hard way then.

Once he hones his senses, Takayama is a bright spark in his mind. The other boy is above the clouds, flying fast. Karasuma latches onto that trace and jets it.

Soaring through the skies like this reminds him of innocent games of hide-and-seek and a grin stretches across Karasuma’s face. He flips mid-flight and stares up at the multitude of stars floating above as he flies. The waning moon is only a sliver in the dark.

He sighs, content. From the ground, he’d be lucky to see three lights through the Tokyo nightscape.

But he isn’t here to coast and stargaze. He has a mission.

Flipping back around, he tries to move as much air as possible with his wings to gain speed on his fellow birdmen. It seems that the other is flying within the clouds now, obscuring Karasuma’s vision.

Well, he never needed that sort of vision to find Takayama anyway.

Karasuma dives into the clouds and their moisture condenses on his mask, forming small drops like dew. The whistling wind is muffled by the helmet.

Soon, he can catch glimpses of black and red flitting through the thinner clouds and stretches out his hand. He tracks that sense of Takayama in his mind with a single-minded determination as it seems the other isn’t intending to be caught easily.

Takayama makes a sharp turn, banking faster than Karasuma is capable of. He makes a wider turn to continue chasing but falters when Takayama disappears from his senses like a candle snuffed out.

He stops and calls, “Takayama!” while hovering in air. His tweets are colored with a tint of panic. “Where are you?”

“I’m right here.” Arms are suddenly around Karasuma’s waist, and he can feel the other boy against his back through his bird suit. Karasuma breathes out in relief through his surprise.

 The hold is awkward with Karasuma’s wings in the way and he turns to break the one-sided hug.

“What was that? You just disappeared.”

Takayama shakes his head. “I was never gone.” He hovers closer. “Like I told you, I’m always right here.” He gestures around them.

Karasuma doesn’t get it. “But what is here? In the sky?”

Takayama shakes his head again. He stares down at one of his hands, tweeting, “I can’t show you.”

Why did he have to be so cryptic all the time?

“Why not just tell me?” And the world blurs for a moment, coming in and out of focus. Karasuma startles, it couldn’t have been a problem with his vision.

“I have to go.”

“Takayama?” but the dream was gone.

They flew fast, holding onto airplanes—much to Sagisawa’s displeasure—and skimming past cliffsides. While much of their flight was filled with banter and games, sometimes they would glide along, admiring the view or lost in thought.

This was one of those rare moments.

Karasuma, as per usual these days, was considering the subject of his dreams. Also as per usual, this subject included a certain bird club member they were drawing closer to hour by hour.

His dream last night had been…strange.

It wasn’t ominous in the way that white outs were, but it hadn’t seemed like a normal dream either. For one, he hadn’t even gotten to kiss the other boy.

Embarrassed by the audacity of his own thought, Karasuma put a hand to his face and unconsciously flew faster as if he could outfly his own mind.

“Ei-chan! Slow down!” Ah, that was right, he had been leading the way, seeing as his Bellwether abilities would help him find Takayama more easily than the rest of the crew.

“What’s the sudden hurry?” Sagisawa pulled up beside him.

Though none of them could see his eyes, Karasuma looked away.

“We just have a long way to go.”

The taller boy paused for a moment. “It’ll be exciting to see Takayama again, won’t it?”

Karasuma’s lackluster response of “Yeah.” is quickly drowned out by Tsubame’s, “Look, Kamo-chan! There are so many paddy fields!”

Karasuma looked down and the ground was covered with terraced fields, full of gold waves of rice and just about ready to be harvested.

Kamoda made a comment about how it looked like it would good to eat and sparked a conversation about how bad it would be to eat raw rice.

Karasuma left them to it.

He wondered how it could be that even the Takayama in his dreams still possessed the ability to utterly confuse him. After all, these were his own dreams. That implied that anything that happened in his dreams was something his brain cooked up.

Maybe his brain didn’t know what it was talking about.

After all, if he thought about it, Takayama’s behavior in his non-white out dreams had slowly changed over time. If he compared the Takayama that tried to dance with him to apologize for hurting him with the Takayama that wouldn’t know human emotions until they shot his friends in the stomach, the differences were clear.

Karasuma tightened his lips. The Takayama of his dreams seemed so genuine and familiar that he was almost afraid he wouldn’t recognize the real Takayama. Was he putting the other on a pedestal like Tsubame had been?

He shook his head. They were likely to find Takayama in a manner of days. He’d figure his emotions out when he had the real deal in front of him. It was no use worrying over what he couldn’t change right now.

That didn’t mean he stopped thinking about it though.

He’s in his pajamas in the middle of his room and looking at his bed.

His comforter.

Realization comes as fast as the foreboding sensation landing outside his window.

Takayama bursts into his room like a messiah on black wings, filling Karasuma’s vision, and his outstretched hand claws the birdmen out of Karasuma. His wing mass forms quickly, eager to respond to the other’s call.

Karasuma finds himself pressed against his wall and held at arm’s length. His room has been thrown into utter disarray. Everything on his desk has been knocked over along with his chair and his pajamas are in tatters on the floor. He does not care.

“Takayama,” he breathes.

They’re in the same positions they were about two months ago, but this time-

“Takayama,” Karasuma repeats with more determination. He reaches to grasp the other’s face in his hands. “I’m dreaming.” A world full of possibilities stretches out in front of Karasuma, but he’s only interested in ones that involve the boy currently standing in his bedroom.

The other doesn’t respond for a beat before he smiles. His whole face is backlit by the outside moonlight, but the whites of his teeth shine.

“Yes, you are.”

Karasuma searches the other’s eyes before flinging himself headfirst into his dream.

He leans into the other boy and pauses a hairsbreadth away from Takayama’s lips. “Well?” He’s surprised at how breathless his voice sounds. “Why don’t we take advantage of it?”

Karasuma hovers in place, staring up. The taller boy hasn’t made a move and Karasuma wants Takayama to want him so much.

“Do you want to?” he hesitates, thrown off. Was this too much, even for a dream?

The smile on the other’s face is no longer as wide, but it’s that much fonder for it. Takayama steps into Karasuma’s space and his hands settle the shorter boy’s hips.

His lips move against Karasuma’s as he says, “I do,” and the boy can feel his heart beat faster.

When, at last, Takayama leans down to kiss him, Karasuma finally feels like he’s breathing. Their lips meet for brief kisses again and again.

Even though he finds his eyes sliding shut as they kiss, Karasuma is overwhelmed by sensory information. Takayama smells faintly of machine oil and ozone and breathing in his scent makes Karasuma think of the thrill of flying. He can feel the dry skin of Takayama’s lips and finds himself entranced by the detail.

It’s not like either of the kisses they shared on the school rooftop all those dreams ago.

The next time they meet, Karasuma uses his tongue to run along the other’s lips. The texture is rough, but not unpleasant. Already, the skin is softening.

The motion draws a gasp of breath from his partner and Karasuma takes the opportunity to do what he’s wanted to do since the start. Taking Takayama’s lower lip in between his teeth, Karasuma bites, careful not to use too much strength.

This drags a deep moan from Takayama’s throat and Karasuma can feel the vibrations in his own mouth before they break away.

Surprised, Karasuma drops his hands from Takayama’s face. They’re both breathing heavily, and the other’s eyes are half-lidded. Karasuma feels like he’s been pinned by a hawk’s gaze, but it only makes his heart pound.

“Takayama?” and his own voice sounds strange and foreign.

The boy in question crowds forward, until Karasuma is fully against the wall, wings retracted behind his back. Takayama’s own wings trap the shorter boy further until his whole field of view only consists of Takayama.

They breathe each other’s air for a moment and Karasuma realizes that one of Takayama’s thumbs is rubbing slow circles into his hip. Even through his bird suit, it feels like a brand burning into his skin.

“You…” Takayama’s is the deepest Karasuma has ever heard it.

And he’s falling back into Karasuma like a shooting star pulled in by gravity. The pressure of his kiss is almost bruising and now it’s Karasuma’s turn to gasp.

“You’ve shown me new worlds.”

Karasuma would’ve laughed if he had the mental capacity for it.

Him show Takayama new worlds? Takayama was the one who tore him back from the grasp of death and released him into the sky to fly. If anyone was the bringer of new worlds, it was the red-marked boy.

Not one to give in, Karasuma kisses back just as fiercely. He lifts his hands, trailing up Takayama’s stomach and wishes that he could be brushing skin.

The wing mass under his fingers begins to shift and Karasuma marvels at the sensation. Takayama chooses that moment to suck on the shorter boy’s lower lip and then licks a quick stripe across Karasuma’s teeth.

God, he had never known that licking teeth could be devastating.

Takayama shifts his head to kiss along Karasuma’s jaw. It gives the boy a chance to use his two last brain cells left alive and brush the bare skin of Takayama’s stomach. The abs beneath his hands tremble minutely under his ministrations.

Without pulling away, Takayama tweets, “You too,” running a hand up Karasuma’s side up to his neck.

He shivers and complies.

They’re both the equivalent of shirtless, though Takayama’s wings still blanket the two. Karasuma had noticed the other boy’s physique before, of course. But it’s so different now that it’s all on display before him. He can hear his blood rushing in his ears.

Distracted by the bare chest before him, Karasuma doesn’t notice Takayama moving towards his neck and the first kiss startles a high whine out of him.

Both birdmen pause. Takayama looks at Karasuma and the boy flushes.

“Is this okay?” Takayama hadn’t moved far enough away and his words create puffs of air on Karasuma’s neck. He shudders and looks away.

“Yeah.” It’s too much to speak. “Keep going.”

Though he can’t see it, Karasuma can feel the smile against his skin.

The next nips to his neck are like nothing Karasuma has ever felt before. It’s like he’s a string, tuned and waiting to be plucked. He can feel moans rising from his throat and he bites his lip to lock them away.

Takayama stops to whisper in Karasuma’s ear. “Don’t hide.”

Karasuma nods and thinks he couldn’t have disobeyed even if he tried.

The other resumes his attention to Karasuma’s neck, but this time the shorter boy lets his voice free. Half the time, he’s not sure what comes out of his mouth but all of it seems to encourage Takayama. Slowly, Karasuma’s hands make their way up the other’s back until he can feel the point where wing meets skin.

After one particularly hard bite, Karasuma whines and involuntarily claws down, drawing a long groan vibrating against his neck.

Suddenly, Takayama’s remaining hand on his hip shifts. It trails down and behind Karasuma’s leg before lifting the leg entirely. He steps impossibly closer, sliding one leg where Karasuma’s was and the shorter boy realizes they’re both hard.

With the help of Takayama’s hand under his thigh, Karasuma wraps his free leg around the other’s hip. Just the pressure of Takayama’s leg makes him throw his head back into the wall. He experiments by rolling his hips down and both boys moan.

Karasuma’s entire body feels like it’s burning, but the body bracketing his feels hotter still. Vaguely, his mind remembers a different fire long ago. But now, he can’t help but feel that Takayama himself is the scene of fire, that Takayama is the fire that gives Karasuma strength.

They kiss once more, a searing heat across Karasuma’s lips. He wants this to continue forever, but a part of his mind remembers where he is.

He’s dreaming, and while his subconscious mind might go further, his conscious one has lines he won’t cross just yet.

With what feels like herculean strength, at last Karasuma softens the kiss and pulls away.

“We should stop,” he breathes.

Takayama stares at him, mouth just slightly open. His lips are swollen and look entirely kissable. Karasuma can’t resist and gives the other another quick peck.

At this, Takayama smiles again, before slowly lowering Karasuma’s leg and backing away just a half-step. It’s just enough to still keep him in Karasuma’s arms. He kisses the shorter boy back, but the searing urgency is gone from his movements.

It gives Karasuma a chance to gather the pieces of his shattered mind.

After they trade another lazy kiss, he asks, “Where did you learn to kiss like that?” Since he had zero experience outside of his dreams, it certainly didn’t seem like it came from Karasuma himself.

“Barbara taught me,” is the murmured answer.

Barbara? Did Karasuma know a Barbara? He’s suddenly irrationally jealous. Or, well, he supposes that it’s not so irrational considering his own feelings.

The hand still on his neck shifts ever so slightly and Karasuma can see a woman with shocking lavender blue hair kissing the daylights out of a taller man.

“I asked for help again,” Takayama confesses.

Karasuma doesn’t know what to say. Takayama had asked for help just to kiss him? He’s touched but it feels almost unreal. A stone of disappointment settles in his stomach because he remembers that this is a dream after all.

In lieu of saying anything, he kisses Takayama again. He lingers and it’s only a little bittersweet.

When he opens his eyes, he realizes that his room behind Takayama is starting to blur. He recognizes the signs from last time, that he must be waking up.

Takayama leans in close, until he’s the only clear image left in Karasuma’s world.

“You’re almost there, Eishi. Meet me at the top.”

He kisses him one last time before the dream dissolves.

Karasuma sat with his knees pulled close to his face, wings curled around his body, and watched the horizon light up in false dawn.

After waking up with a hardon and a lot of feelings, the Bellwether had extricated himself carefully from a pile of sleeping bird club members and took a walk.

He’d walked among the sheep that were slowly waking up, brushing a hand over their wool. He had left quickly, looking for some solitude from even animals.

That led him to his current spot, on top of the only rock in sight from the nomads’ tent.

He could smell a crackle of electricity in the air, almost as if it were about to rain. Just the faintest scent brought memories of dizzying kisses to the forefront of his mind.

Karasuma had experienced wet dreams before, but nothing even came close to the heat from his dream last night. He wondered how he could even dream about such fine details like Takayama’s dry lips when he hadn’t even properly kissed anyone while awake.

Remembering more about those lips on his neck, Karasuma flushed and buried his head in his knees. He could hear Takayama, voice deepened by arousal, whispering, “Don’t hide.” He blushed harder.

Okay, he thought, slapping his cheeks with his hands. He had to get himself together. They were close to finding Takayama, he was certain of it. Now was not the time to be pining after his dreams.

“Bad moment?”

For one brief adrenaline-filled moment, Karasuma’s body kicked into fight-or-flight mode before he realized who had snuck up on him.

“How long have you been here, Sagisawa?”

The other smiled far too brightly for the early hour. “Just long enough to see you slap yourself. Mind if I join you?”

Karasuma shuffled over and gestured with his hand at the empty space he left behind. “Go ahead.”

Sagisawa flopped down, legs dangling over the rock’s edge and hands supporting his weight stretched behind his back. Karasuma observed the boy for a moment. The more he got to know Sagisawa, the more the boy seemed to loosen up, in a literal sense.

He couldn’t help but feel glad.

“So, are you ready to talk about your huge crush on Takayama yet?”

If he had been drinking, Karasuma would’ve spat it out right then. As it was, he could feel himself blushing again.

“W-what!? I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

The Trickster just looked at him. Yeah, Karasuma didn’t really think denial would work.

“We’re on our way to meet him. Aren’t you going to say something?”

Karasuma looked ahead at the plains of grass stretching out in front of the duo. “No,” was his only answer.

“Why not? Nothing will ever happen if you keep quiet.”

Karasuma shot a quick glare at the taller boy. “You know what Takayama is like. He-“ Karasuma struggled for words. “He doesn’t operate by the same rules the rest of us do.” He could remember his own thoughts from the top of a landslide months ago. “Things like romance and affection aren’t even a part of his world view.”

It was silent for a few moments before Karasuma glanced back to see Sagisawa considering him.

When the boy responded, it was soft. “I think you might be surprised.”

Karasuma scoffed and looked away.

“If it was you, would you confess?”

“Well, I don’t think I would ever fall for Takayama in the first place!”

The raven-haired boy twisted around and wished he could punch Sagisawa in his smiling face, complete with imaginary sparkles and flowers.

Sagisawa continued, “But I’m sure if I ever liked someone, I’d probably tell everyone I could.”

Karasuma settled his ruffled feathers to observe his friend. Maybe he could steer the subject away from his own feelings. “What kind of person would you fall for then?”

The brown-haired boy considered the question for a moment before saying, “Someone who could step on me?”

“Why is that a question!?” Sometimes Sagisawa caused Karasuma’s blood pressure to rise like nothing else. “And what kind of messed up requirement is that?”

“Oh, Karasuma,” Sagisawa slowly shook his head. “I thought you’d understand. You still have such a long way to go.”

“I don’t think I want to understand,” the boy muttered. He stared at faraway clouds turning pink as the sun crept closer to breaking the horizon.

Karasuma could hear the other boy shifting but didn’t move until another shoulder bumped against his.

“Sagisawa?”

“For someone who thinks so much, you always forget that people can surprise you.” When Karasuma glanced over, there was a surprisingly fond smile on the Trickster’s face. “You didn’t think we’d leave Tokyo with you, remember?”

He did.

“For what it’s worth, I think there’s hope for you.”

Karasuma was quiet for a few beats longer as the first rays of sunlight crept slowly across the grasslands.

“Thanks.”

At that, Sagisawa hopped down from their perch and extended a hand up towards Karasuma.

“You’re always welcome, Karasuma. Now let’s go find Takayama.”

They found him, and Karasuma is saved all over again.

But Karasuma couldn’t recognize the boy in front of him. His perception of who the real Takayama and the dream Takayama were blurred until it felt like he was talking to a stranger once more.

So he pushed all his feelings and dreams aside.

It worked well enough until the very last moment.

Takayama’s words echoed in his ears.

“I’ve already met them in my dreams.”

He thought he could hear other voices, the rest of the bird club reacting differently to the news. None of the words registered.

There was a smile forming on Takayama’s face and all he could feel was an overwhelming urge to get out, to fly.

Karasuma took off into the sky.

“Karasuma!” Sagisawa.

More tweets followed but Karasuma couldn’t care. Met in his dreams? Was the Takayama with white wings real? Was the Takayama that danced with him and kissed him real?

Hope felt like an ugly creature clawing up his throat.

But at the same time, his thoughts suffocated him. If Takayama met all of the seven, had he walked their dreams too? Were there other people out there who wanted to hold him close and show him that life was more than just the foil to death?

“Karasuma!” It was Sagisawa again, having caught up to Karasuma’s erratic flight.

“I don’t want to talk to you.” The black-marked boy tried to lose the other.

Suddenly, the Trickster was there in front of him and Karasuma panicked, wings flapping fast to avoid collision.

Sagisawa took advantage of the situation and gripped the boy’s arms tightly. The hold was awkward with the two hovering in air, but he refused to let go.

“Don’t talk then! Listen to me!” The harshness of Sagisawa’s voice somehow broke through Karasuma’s frenzy.

“The others don’t know what’s going on and I told them to stay away. What I need you to know is that this is the first time that I’ve seen Takayama look anything other than fine. In fact, he looked close to devastated.” Karasuma could see the determined look in his friend’s eyes even through both of their masks. “I don’t know what exactly went on in your dreams or whatever is going on in your head right now, but I can guarantee that Takayama is feeling just as lost as you are right now. You should go down there and talk with him, Karasuma.”

Karasuma frantically shook his head, “I can’t, not now.”

Sagisawa pressed his face closer until they were almost helmet to helmet. “The Karasuma I know is super pessimistic, always complains, overthinks even the simplest situations, and refuses to let other people help him with his problems.” The grip on Karasuma’s arms loosened by just a touch. “But I also know that he never, ever gives up.”

“Sagisawa…”

The boy in question smiled, and even though it was a small, worried thing, it was comforting.

“If I’m wrong about this whole thing, you can punch me first, and then I’ll help you get revenge on Takayama afterwards. Okay?”

Karasuma breathed in. “Okay.” He paused. “Thanks, Sagisawa. Really.”

“Thank me later.” Sagisawa’s smile grew. “Now go.”

He flew.

Takayama was still in the same spot, right where Karasuma had left him.

As he landed, Karasuma let his helmet melt away. He had no plan.

“Takayama.”

The other boy looked at him, and Karasuma could understand what Sagisawa had said before. Takayama looked…almost shaken. And there was something else in his expression that Karasuma couldn’t quite figure out.

The Bellwether gathered himself together. He could let himself stare at Takayama’s face after he got some answers.

“You said that you met The Seven of the Beginning in your dreams. What kind of dreams are they?”

As he spoke, Karasuma could see Takayama gathering himself together until the other boy’s face was almost back to its normal neutrality. But that something Karasuma couldn’t put his finger on was still there. It seemed familiar in a way.

Focus.

Takayama looked down at his hand as it clenched and opened. “I dream of a blank canvas. The Seven are the first strokes of paint, and once all seven are gathered can we create a masterpiece of our own making.”

Karasuma blinked, thrown back. He’d never thought of white outs in a way that made himself the artwork instead of the blemish.

But- “Is that it? Just the white dreams?”

Takayama looked at him. “Yes.”

Karasuma simultaneously felt a wave of relief and disappointment at the same time. No, there weren’t six other people out there who dreamed of Takayama the same way he did. But at the same time, that meant his normal dreams were just that. Dreams.

He had panicked for no reason at all. Thinking of Takayama’s face when he had landed and knowing he had somehow caused that, Karasuma winced. He owed the other an apology.

“I’m sorry,” he looked away. “I didn’t think before I flew away before. It’s just that I’ve been having other dreams too.” How much could he say? “…They aren’t something I wanted to share.”

When Karasuma glanced at Takayama, the boy was looking down and his face was shrouded in shadow.

“I’m sorry,” Karasuma repeated before turning away. “I need some time to think about The Seven, so I guess I’ll see you tomorrow.”

He gathered strength to jump in the air, but before he could take off, a hand grabbed his wrist.

Surprised and unable to stop his momentum, Karasuma ended up turning onto his backfoot due to the anchor on his wrist.

“Takayama!?”

“I thought you couldn’t remember.” And there was something in Takayama’s face, a furrow in between his brows and the slightest drop in the corner of his lips that kept Karasuma from responding.

He let go of Karasuma’s wrist and stepped into his space, casually dominating the boy’s vision just as he had dominated his mind.

Takayama was so close, and Karasuma’s mind flashed through all the dreams he had where the two had stood together just like this.

Suddenly, he could recognize what it was on Takayama’s face. It was the same confusion he had seen back on the school rooftop so many dreams ago. The face Takayama made when he didn’t understand Karasuma quite yet, but was trying to.

“What other dreams?”

Karasuma swallowed. Just standing this close to Takayama like this sent his heart pounding.

“They’re nothing important.”

“Eishi.” The confusion was gone from his face. Instead it was replaced by something that Karasuma had seen in his dreams again and again.

Takayama’s eyes softened and Karasuma wanted to run again. He was still learning who he was. A bellwether. A leader. Maybe even one of The Seven. But he couldn’t possibly be who the other boy thought he was looking at. He couldn’t.

Takayama took Karasuma’s hand again. The warmth of it was startling.

Takayama lifted the hand gently and brought it to his lips. He pressed a feather-light kiss to Karasuma’s knuckles and though his mouth failed to move, Karasuma could hear his voice, “You still think you can’t fly?”

Images flit through Karasuma’s head faster than he can keep up.

“Karasuma, it’s time to wake up.”

A red leaf.

“Did you think that it wouldn’t hurt us!?”

A gray comforter.

“I’m always right here.”

It doesn’t matter, because Karasuma could remember.

He jerked away, but Takayama’s grip on his hand stayed strong. “You could see my dreams!?”

“I only watched at first.” Karasuma caught flashes of dreams that he had months ago but from new vantage points. His body lying in bed. A pile of bird club members on a couch. “But then I realized I could be a part of them, or pull you into my own.”

And he’s back on the rooftop, looking down at his own tearstained face, tweeting, “I’m sorry.”

And he’s dancing, admiring a blush that truly does rival the leaves around them, saying. “It’s a good color on you.”

And he’s panting, heart racing, understanding for the one of the first times why there are so many stories about love.

“You’ve shown me new worlds.”

Karasuma blinked, finally seeing the Takayama standing in front of his eyes instead of the one in his head.

The other boy smiled and leaned in. “I told you before, I felt like I was close.”

He took the hand not holding Karasuma’s hand and placed it on the shorter boy’s forehead. “It’s not just here either.” The hand trailed down Karasuma’s face, briefly cupping his cheek, before settling on top of his chest. “But here as well.”

Karasuma didn’t know what to feel. His heart was surging upwards and out, as if it could jump out of his chest into Takayama’s. He blinked, and realized there were tears gathering in the corner of his eyes.

He lifted a hand, and punched the other boy straight in his chest. As expected, Takayama didn’t so much as flinch. Karasuma spread his hand out and could feel the other’s heart beating as fast as his own.

“You could have told me that you were actually in my dreams, idiot! I thought I was imagining all of it.”

Takayama let go of Karasuma’s hand to bring it up to the Bellwether’s face. His thumb swept over the corner of Karasuma’s eye in the same motion he used so many dreams ago.

“I’m sorry.”

Karasuma looked up at the other. It felt like he was standing in front of a fire and he could almost taste ozone on his tongue.

“Make it up to me then.”

Takayama smiled and leaned in.

“Karasuma, it’s time to wake up.”

He woke.

And there was a fond grin above him that filled his dreams.

He ran his hands through wind-blown hair and smiled back.

“I’m awake.”

The grin morphed into a smile of its own.

“Yes, you are.”

They both were.