Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

"The first draft is just you telling yourself the story."

- Terry Pratchett

5:37

"Oh shit, I gotta go," Fuuma said, raising his eyebrows at his phone before placing it back on the worn wooden nightstand. He disentangled himself from Seishiro and the warm and sweaty and very expensive sheets they'd been wrapped in, and heaved himself out of bed. Seishiro made a distasteful noise, covered himself in the sheets and sat up against the wrought iron headboard to watch Fuuma search for the jeans and t-shirt he'd carelessly tossed aside hours ago.

"You aren't even going to shower?" He asked, simultaneously incredulous and turned on. Fuuma located his jeans and put them on before answering.

"Nope," he replied, smiling over his shoulder as he zipped up. "I wanna smell you on me all night." Seishiro closed his eyes for a moment, either to hide that he was rolling them or to disguise one of his exultant little microexpressions Fuuma knew and loved. Either way, when he opened them, he made no further comment except to shake his head and reach for his cigarettes. Fuuma laughed softly to himself as he finally found his shirt and pulled it over his head. "You sure you don't wanna come?" He asked, facing Seishiro again and combing his fingers through his hair. Seishiro's eyes widened dubiously and he took a drag from his cigarette. "Someone will probably bring sweets."

"No thank you," Seishiro replied, stretching. "I'll come visit once there's actually something to see."

"You don't want to be there at the starting line? So you can marvel at how much better they all get by the end?" Fuuma asked, picking up his phone and shoving it in his back pocket.

"Not especially," replied Seishiro, delicately, smoke coiling gracefully around him. "You know I don't give a shit about process." Fuuma let out a sharp burst of laughter and crawled back on top of Seishiro, who just took another polite drag from his cigarette and exhaled out the side of his mouth.

"I know," Fuuma replied, his lip curling. "You're goal directed as fuck. That's why edging's good for you." A slight spasm crossed Seishiro's face and his lips parted in a barely audible gasp, but he recovered himself almost at once.

"Soon," he assured Fuuma, quietly. "In the meantime," he continued, taking another drag from his cigarette and exhaling over Fuuma's shoulder. "I'll be waiting," his eyes flashed, "with breath that is bated." Fuuma's eyes narrowed, a sudden heat spreading throughout his body, but he was sure to be late as it was. He took hold of Seishiro's wrist, brought his cigarette to his lips and took a deep inhale.

"It's not bated, you just can't get enough oxygen in your fucking lungs," he retorted on his exhale. Seishiro rolled his eyes, but Fuuma kissed him on the lips before he could say anything. He then rolled out of bed and snatched up his bag. "Will you be here when I get back? Or are you going back to New York?"

"I'm not sure."

"Uh huh," replied Fuuma. They stared at each other across the room for one uncomfortably stretched moment, before Fuuma just hitched a grin back onto his face. "Whatever." He turned and wrenched the bedroom door open with a loud creak. "Love you!" He called sarcastically over his shoulder, allowing the door to fall shut behind him. He emerged onto a grand hallway, carpeted and wallpapered in dark reds, purples and blues. After spending the afternoon in the sunny, white walled bedroom, Fuuma found the rich colors and lack of light incredibly gloomy. Although he'd stayed in this house the last three summers, the darkness always perplexed and amused him.

"Wasn't the point of houses in places like this to get fresh air and back to nature and shit?" He'd asked Seishiro, standing in the equally rich but gloomy living room his first time here.

"You'd think," Seishiro replied, vaguely disgusted. "But my mother bought this house so she could live away from the property while working. And to throw parties and get up to god knows what. Rustication wasn't exactly the goal." His eyes darted to the large fireplace in the corner, above which was mounted a huge black and white photograph from which Fuuma had politely kept his eyes averted. It showed a beautiful costumed woman in her early '30s standing on a stage under a bright spotlight, holding her young son in her arms. Seishiro's jaw clenched just enough for Fuuma to notice. "The bedrooms are marginally less oppressive. Pick whichever you'd like."

Fuuma smiled affectionately and headed downstairs, the old scratchy carpet under his feet muffling the floorboards squeaking and groaning. At the bottom of the stairs was a large foyer with the front door before him and smaller, open doors to his left and right. An Arts and Crafts chandelier hung in the center of the ceiling, though it wasn't on, and a star shape was worked into the bare floorboards below it. Through the door to Fuuma's right, he could see the living room, the fireplace and photograph staring back at him from the opposite corner. However, Seishiro had actually opened the windows there when they'd first arrived, and it was much more alive for it. Cracking open the old house for a new season each summer always reminded Fuuma of opening a casket.

Still smiling, he walked around the edge of the staircase and into the huge kitchen. It was one of the few rooms that had been recently renovated, so the light the windows actually let in reflected off gleaming modern countertops and cabinets as well as the cleaned and restored tile floor. Fuuma snatched his keys and water bottle off the island in the center of the room, stepped into his shoes and slid open the glass door that led out onto a screened in porch with an old charcoal grill in one corner and worn out weatherproof furniture in the other. A light clicked on automatically and unnecessarily, highlighting the dust and the holes in the screens. However, it was Fuuma's favorite place in the house, and he happily imagined sitting out here with drinks and books on his days off.

'Gotta fix those screens though,' he thought, pulling open the door with yet another creak and jumping down the back steps as it clattered shut again.

The house loomed behind him, casting the gravel driveway and thick surrounding woods into shadow. A soft breeze rustled the trees and played across Fuuma's face as he crunched over to one of the two cars parked there. He could smell grass and the approaching chill of the sun going down, and it felt bizarre that only five hours ago Seishiro had picked him up from his apartment in Manhattan's Lower East Side, where summer had already set in, sweltering and sticky.

As nice as it was to be out of the city heat, he did regret being stuck somewhere you needed a car. He hated driving, but unless you were right in one of the tiny towns along US Route 7 as it wound its way through the mountains, you couldn't get anywhere walking. At least Seishiro let him borrow this car for the summer, saving him the trouble of renting one or mooching rides. Not that he minded being in the car as a passenger, especially if Seishiro was driving. He smirked as he remembered their drive upstate.

"Are you serious?" Seishiro gasped, his knuckles white on the steering wheel and eyes fixed upon the highway. Fuuma just laughed and stroked his rapidly forming erection through his dress pants.

"Of course I am." A flush rushed up Seishiro's neck and he clenched his jaw and took a sharp breath in through his nose. Fuuma leaned over the gearshift with another soft laugh. "Keep your seatbelt on."

Fuuma slid into the front seat, started the engine and put on music. He felt the '80s synthesizer and pop beat effervesce in his chest as he made a sharp U-turn to get back out of the driveway. Summer, a male vocalist sang, it turns me upside down… Summer summer summer, it's like a merry go round! He turned left, out of the little enclave in the tree covered hill where the house was nestled.

He knew Seishiro liked being secluded, though from what he knew about his mother it always seemed incongruous that she would want to be this far away. "Setsuka was so kind to me!" "Setsuka was always so gracious…" "I've never seen Setsuka be rude to a fan." Fuuma had heard it all, though he'd never actually met her, and either her social battery was always fully charged, or it was as exhausting as it sounded. Of course, that had been a generation ago, when she and a few other artists were establishing the scene here from scratch, so all the publicity and appearances were completely necessary.

I've got a hold on you, got a hold on you, got a hold on you…! He shifted gears and sped up as he emerged onto Route 7, following the signs for the Village of Clow, the closest town, and the effervescence in his chest bubbled more excitedly. It was a new season, a new project and a mostly new group of people. Aside from those who'd become fixtures at either Babylon Theatre Company, the Soapland Arts Dance Center or Oruha Musicians Collective a generation ago, every summer brought new faces. It was Fuuma's fourth summer in a row directing at Babylon, and he couldn't decide if he liked being a regular or not. Not that he judged people who were: all three places were fantastic gigs if you could get them, with free summer housing and a prestigious name in theater, dance or music for your resume.

With another rush of excitement, Fuuma guided the car around the edge of the hill, the lush, green valley below cradling the evening sunlight. Seishiro had handed him this summer's script, a modern adaptation of Anton Chekhov's Three Sisters, in February when they happened to be in Los Angeles at the same time. Fuuma had held the auditions in New York City a month later, and though Seishiro hadn't been there, he hadn't wasted time feeling annoyed. He'd had Seiichiro Aoki, the man who'd adapted the script, with him instead, which had been far more helpful. Mr. Aoki had come as a surprise to Fuuma after reading the bleak and sharp script: he was soft and friendly and handsome in that middle school English teacher sort of way. They'd instantly struck up a rapport, and Mr. Aoki told him that he, his wife and their daughter would be staying in a rented house in Clow that summer to oversee the project. Though, as he'd assured Fuuma, "By oversee I mean show up occasionally and stand around for five minutes." Fuuma raised his eyebrows. "I've seen your work, here and up at Babylon. I trust you completely. Butcher my text, I don't mind!"

"Don't say things you don't mean," Fuuma warned him, though they were both smiling. "Especially considering how last season was a total shit show."

"It wasn't a shit show just because you weren't happy with it," Mr. Aoki reminded him.

Fuuma made a right turn at a mercifully green light, and after a short stretch at last entered the pretty little town of Clow. To his right stood a large old fashioned building that used to be a bank but now served as a visitor center, and on the left was an intersecting street that led into what locals called "downtown." It was full of expensive, though not very good, restaurants, old houses like Seishiro's that had been converted into bed and breakfasts and clothing and jewelry stores. As the season hadn't officially begun, the streets were practically empty, but soon they'd be swarmed, full of artists and people paying to see them.

Fuuma guided the car past two large, expensive hotels and down a sloping hill where the street was lined with more dense woods. Somewhere deep in those trees was a brooding Victorian house where some famous author had lived in the twentieth century before it was turned into a museum. Fuuma could never remember his name, his work not being at all to his taste. It was some conceptual pseudo-intellectual bullshit that had gone right over his head when he'd been forced to read it in high school.

He stopped the car halfway down the hill and turned right, a smile breaking out across his face as he pulled into the parking lot with a sudden surge of determination. Babylon Theatre Company had a massive swath of land all to itself that contained three theaters, the Igarashi, Ohkawa and Apapa (named for the families from whom Setsuka had secured donations to have them built); an office building; the prop and costume warehouses and dorms for actors, crew and students and teachers at Babylon Training Institute. It was sprawling and not well organized, but the Board of Directors seemed in no hurry to change anything.

Gravel crunched under Fuuma's tires as he pulled into the nearest parking lot outside the Igarashi, the largest of the three theaters. He unplugged his phone, shut off the engine and got out of the car, his heart swelling in his chest and his vision sharpening. Yes, he was back the fuck at work. He would do a better job than last year.

He strode across the parking lot and opened the door to the lobby, set in a wall of glass panels. It was a large, circular room carpeted in deep red and full of evening sunlight. He paused for a moment on the threshold and allowed the door to close behind him, breathing in the smell of dusty curtains, glow tape and coffee and taking in the handsome circular bar, the gift stand still full of last year's merch and the box office. Eight by ten foot framed photographs of previous shows hung from the glass panels and cast long shadows across the carpet. As he made his way around the bar, he spotted Setsuka playing Lady Macbeth in one photo beside another depicting a man sitting on the edge of a bed with his face in his hands, surrounded by a younger man and three boys, fifteen, twelve and eight years old. Fuuma smiled broadly and swelled with pride in spite of himself: that photo was from Yoru, the show he'd directed two years previously and his most successful production here or anywhere. He dragged his fingers across the glass and made a mental note to text the playwright, a colleague of his named Camellia, though he always called her Tsubaki.

He rounded the bar and came upon two people sitting at the end beside the theater entrance with mugs of coffee. He grinned broadly as he approached them. "There you are," his stage manager said in a deadpan tone to match his expression.

"Good to see you, too, Nataku." Then, before he could scold Fuuma for barely making it on time, he turned to the woman beside him, a BTC veteran. "And you," he said, extending his hand to her. "How are you, Kanoe?" She took his hand with an overly gracious smile and he kissed her on the cheek. "Had a good off season?"

"I never have off seasons of any kind," she replied.

"Heh…" He waited for her to let go of his hand.

"I wanted to ask you about casting, though," she continued. "I was just speaking to Mr. Aoki, and-"

"I actually need to talk to you about that too," Nataku cut in. "Sorry to interrupt," he added to Kanoe when she looked affronted. She was still holding tight to Fuuma's hand. "But it's urgent, that's why I'm out here waiting for you." Fuuma raised his eyebrows.

"Did this happen in the fifteen minutes it took me to drive over here? Because I'd like to think that if it's that big a deal you'd have told me sooner." Kanoe let go of Fuuma's hand at last, though she was still watching him expectantly. Nataku didn't look remotely discomposed and took his phone out of his pocket.

"I got the text exactly eight minutes ago. I can show it to you."

"I'll see you in there," Fuuma told Kanoe, his tone too final for her to argue. She rolled her eyes, slid off the barstool and sauntered back into the theater, leaving her mug of coffee on the bar. "What's up?"

"Our Transeau dropped out," Nataku informed him.

"Shit."

"Yeah. I have some people I could call to step in, but I didn't want to do anything without asking you."

"I appreciate that."

"Good. Now what do we do?" Nataku's expression hadn't changed, but his breathing had sped up subtly as though he were anxious. Fuuma thought briefly of the actor he'd cast as one of the unhappy military men with a soft pang of regret. He was such a good choice, and he'd worked well with the actress playing his eventual wife.

"Shit," he muttered again, to vent his feelings, but then, as though it were an easy choice, "we'll make it work, obviously."

"Obviously," Nataku replied, clearly hoping for elaboration.

"Tonight we'll do the read through as normal," Fuuma said decisively. "We'll figure this out in the morning." Nataku sighed, but nodded.

"Sounds good." His eyes darted to the door, then back to Fuuma's face.

"Is everyone else here?" Fuuma asked.

"Yes." Fuuma smiled.

"Good." He clapped Nataku on the shoulder.

"Do you wanna play Transeau?" Nataku raised his eyebrows a fraction.

"It'll be a cold day in hell when I get up on stage." Fuuma let out a sharp burst of laughter.

"Fair enough! We'd be fucked without you behind the scenes anyway." Nataku said nothing, though the corner of his mouth twitched. "Come on, let's get this over with." Nataku turned and Fuuma followed him beyond a set of black velvet curtains into the theater, knowing another pleasurable rush of excitement and determination.

The theater looked almost exactly as it had done when they'd struck the set at the end of the previous summer. The raised stage in the center of the room was scratched and covered in random spots of glow tape and paint. The audience sat around three sides, though the seats were all rather dusty or full of clutter and people's bags. There was a balcony of more seats above those, with the lighting booth glassed in in the center, above the special box of seats reserved for the most important guests. The opposite wall was all scaffolding and more random clutter. Only a few of the lights were up, casting a warm, pale yellow glow onto the center of the stage where Fuuma's cast and crew stood clustered, chattering excitedly and clutching scripts, coffee and random tokens either for good luck or to decorate dressing rooms.

Fuuma smiled affectionately, their excitement fueling his own as he stepped up onto the stage, Nataku hovering just behind him. "What's good, everybody?" He asked, and as one the cast turned sharply. Fourteen pairs of eyes widened and Fuuma could practically feel the collective inhale. 'They better not start applauding,' he thought, walking towards them.

"What's good? Getting places on time," came a familiar, cold voice from the back of the crowd. Fuuma bowed his head in sarcastic apology before stepping forward and extending his hand to his lighting designer.

"What's up, Satsuki?" She raised her eyebrows but shook his hand anyway.

"I have to design lights for five shows and tech yours, what do you think is up?" Fuuma laughed, let go of her hand and smiled around at the rest of the cast, who were all still staring at him with wide eyes.

"Are we doing this read through on the floor?" He asked, and they all exchanged looks, those who hadn't worked with him before trying to decide if he was being sarcastic. "It's okay if we are," he amended, shrugging. "I was just curious."

"All right, that's enough," Fuuma's carpenter and set designer, Kusanagi, said impatiently. "I'll go get a table, could I get help with some chairs?" He turned and a few people scurried forward to follow him backstage. Fuuma's smile widened still further as he watched them go, then,

"Good to see you, Mr. Aoki!"

"Didn't I tell you Seiichiro is fine?" He asked, smiling rather exasperatedly as he shook Fuuma's hand.

"How are you feeling?" Fuuma asked, with a gracious smile at Karen, the actress beside him, who he'd seen perform back in New York, but hadn't actually worked with. She smiled back, but said nothing, allowing Mr. Aoki to continue.

"I am so excited! This will be my first time hearing the whole script out loud from actors rather than just people in my writing group." Fuuma's eyes narrowed. "Hahah! It isn't as bad as it sounds," he said, clearly trying to reassure himself as much as Fuuma. "Everyone is talented and helpful, but…" He shrugged, and Fuuma was sure he just couldn't find a polite way to say "but they all irritate me," so he just nodded in solidarity.

"Fuuma!"

"Yes?" He turned and found himself face to face with Hokuto, his costume designer, with a young man he didn't know in tow. "What's up?" He asked, shaking her hand, pleased to see her.

"Sorry to interrupt, but you were taking too long. This," she said, moving aside and encouraging the young man to step forward. "Is my friend Kakyo."

"Oh yeah?" Fuuma said, looking him up and down. He was so pale the dark shadows beneath his eyes stood out almost shockingly. It didn't help that he was dressed all in white and rather hunched over.

"Yeah! He's gonna be helping me out this summer," Hokuto continued, patting him on the back. Fuuma nodded, still looking at Kakyo, who either wouldn't or couldn't meet his gaze.

"Are you also a costume designer?" Kakyo wrapped his arms around himself.

"No, I, truthfully I can't even sew," he replied, quietly.

"Well, perfect opportunity to learn!" Hokuto interjected, smiling encouragingly. Kakyo shivered and his jaw clenched, but before anyone could say anything else, a dull crash echoed through the room as Kusanagi set a large foldable plastic table down in the center of the stage. Those people who hadn't carried in chairs rushed over to help set it up. Hokuto took Kakyo by the arm and led him back to the group. Out of the corner of his eye, Fuuma saw Nataku scowl appraisingly at Kakyo's back as he followed them. Fuuma thought he knew what that was about: it wasn't the first summer Hokuto had brought someone up here with a similar story. Nataku set up a chair for Fuuma at the head of the table, then one for himself at his right, awkwardly at the corner but just out of the way.

"Thank you," Fuuma told him, quietly, before sitting down and watching his cast assemble. His heart swelled as they scrambled to sit beside the few people they knew and make sure they had scripts, pens, highlighters and drinks. Satsuki, Kusanagi and Hokuto all had notebooks and pens out in case something occurred to them during the readthrough. Fuuma appreciated that, because he himself had barely any idea how he wanted things to look or sound, but he was confident in all of their abilities and knowledge of his tastes and preferences.

Nataku cleared his throat softly in Fuuma's ear, and his face broke into an expansive smile as he addressed the room at large. "All right, you guys ready to get started?" A few people smiled and nodded. Satsuki, Hokuto and Kusanagi exchanged looks and the tension seemed to sharpen. "I obviously met all of you when you auditioned, but I figure we gotta do some awkward ice breakery shit, right?" A hesitant laugh ran around the table. 'I'm not trying to be intimidating, I swear to god,' Fuuma thought, then said, "I guess just say your name and who you're playing or what you do for now. We'll get into, I dunno, 'if you were a nail polish what color would you be and why?' later." Another round of slightly less tense laughter followed, as well as a few people whispering their color choice to their neighbors. "Do you wanna start, Mr. Aoki?" Halfway down the left side of the table, Mr. Aoki smiled and adjusted his glasses.

"Sure thing," he said, looking up and down the table. "I'm Seiichiro Aoki, I adapted the script. It's awesome to be here! I never really expected this to go anywhere, I just wanted a project while I was up in Glacier Park with my wife and daughter and in laws for a month." Everyone laughed, and it finally seemed genuine. Mr. Aoki rubbed the back of his head rather embarrassedly. "I know, I'm out in the middle of nowhere so I start writing about a family stuck out in the middle of nowhere."

"So meta!" Someone cried.

"What's the phrase?" Mr. Aoki laughed. "Write what you know? Anyway, I love Chekhov. The Seagull is my favorite, but Three Sisters was speaking to me at the time for obvious reasons, so Paying A Call To The Prozorovs is what I ended up with." He let out another embarrassed laugh, as though he still couldn't believe this was actually happening, and took a sip from his water bottle. "I didn't do much, just changed the setting and modernized some of the dialogue and social commentary. Now instead of the Prozorovs in the Russian countryside we've got the Perspicuous out west and instead of Moscow they're missing New York City."

"Wouldn't it make more sense to have them lusting after LA or San Francisco if this takes place out west?" Hokuto asked.

"It would," Mr. Aoki agreed. "But when I got approached by Seishiro Sakurazuka-" a frisson went around the table, "about doing it at Babylon Theatre Company, I changed it because I know how East Coast people get." Everyone burst out laughing. "I'm including myself in that, obviously!"

"Fair enough," Hokuto said, writing something in her notebook.

"I think that's it," Mr. Aoki finished, shrugging and looking to Fuuma, who grinned.

"Cool," he said, his eyes shifting to Satsuki, sitting on Mr. Aoki's left. She smiled a rather bored smile, raised her hand and jerked it back and forth unenthusiastically.

"I'm Satsuki, the lighting designer." She tilted her head to the side. "Looking forward to tech." A few people shuddered, but Satsuki said nothing, her expression tightening as she turned to the man beside her, who smiled graciously.

"Hello! I'm Yuuto, and I play Kirsch, the pretentious school teacher." Everyone snorted but Yuuto just held his arms wide, embracing it. "I'm also," he looked around. "Maudie's husband?" A pretty young woman sitting across from him smiled a tight smile. Kanoe, who was sitting on Yuuto's other side, crossed her arms, pushing her breasts closer together and lengthening the already long line of her cleavage. Fuuma's lip curled as she spoke.

"I'm Kanoe, Yuuto's offstage wife," she said, smirking as though that were an enviable position to hold. The young woman across the table looked away, clearly feeling desperately awkward. "And I'm playing Annemarie. The aunt."

"Aunt?" Asked Nataku, raising his eyebrows a millimeter. "It says 'the Perspicuou's Nanny' on my copy."

"Ouch," mouthed Satsuki as Kanoe turned to Fuuma, clearly demanding an explanation. However, all Fuuma said was,

"Annemarie, very nice to meet you." He then shifted his gaze to Kusanagi on her other side. He heaved a resigned sigh, but then smiled and waved, looking genuinely happy for a moment despite his obvious reservations.

"I'm Kusanagi. I'm usually just a contractor pretending to be a set designer, but I stepped in to play Grant, the army doctor, when someone dropped out." In characteristic humility, he left out that Seishiro had asked him personally. Fuuma pursed his lips in a kiss and Kusanagi pretended to catch it, then squash it on the table like a mosquito. Hokuto and Satsuki smirked at each other while everyone else looked quickly at Fuuma to see how he'd take this. However, he just laughed appreciatively and turned to the young man beside Kusanagi, who looked ready to burst with excitement.

"Me?" He asked, his face glowing.

"You," Nataku replied with a touch of impatience, casting a sideways glance at Fuuma, who just smiled encouragingly.

"I'm Keiichi! I've been waiting to do Three Sisters somehow since I was like, fourteen, so I'm thrilled to be here!" Everyone withdrew slightly from him, except Fuuma, who leaned in closer. He could tell Keiichi's excitement and eagerness were totally genuine; it had been so at his nearly flawless audition. "I play Jepsen!" His entire aspect lit up as he said it. "The army staff captain, Solyony in the original. You know that means salty? Strange, strange guy and massive scumbag, I can't wait!" He beamed around at his stunned castmates.

"I'll be very eager to hear you read," Fuuma told him, and he meant it. Keiichi gave him a radiant smile and they both looked at the young man beside him, who was looking almost shell shocked from Keiichi's enthusiasm. However, he shook his head before smiling awkwardly at the group.

"What's up, I'm Kamui," he said, and Fuuma felt his attention sharpen as he took in his beautiful face and intense, passionate eyes. "And uh, I'm playing Andrew."

"The central figure," Fuuma said, and Kamui shrugged.

"I mean, I guess so."

"It's your first summer here, isn't it?" Fuuma asked. Kamui nodded. "Good to have you." Kamui's eyes darted around the rest of the group for a moment before fixing almost defiantly on Fuuma, who felt a surge of his energy.

"Here's hoping," he said, and Fuuma laughed. Out of the corner of his eye, he noticed Hokuto's brother, who he only knew in passing, watching Kamui with a great interest. Kamui caught his eye and went slightly pink as he shrugged again and turned to the young woman next to him, who smiled widely at everybody.

"Hi!" Her excitement was as genuine as Keiichi's, though not nearly as overwhelming. "My name's Yuzuriha. It's my first summer here performing, but I was here the last two years doing summer intensives at Babylon Training Institute." Her eyes darted to Kusanagi for the briefest moment. "I'm playing Natalie, Andrew's wife." She grinned rather evilly at Kamui, who stuck his tongue out at her.

"How long have you two known each other?" Fuuma asked them.

"Too long," they said at the same time, then stared stunned at each other for a moment before joining in with everyone's laughter.

"But yeah! I'm super excited," Yuzuriha finished. Fuuma nodded, and his gaze lingered on Kamui a moment longer before he looked to the pretty young woman on Yuzuriha's other side, still looking desperately awkward at being exposed as Yuuto's onstage wife. Everyone followed his gaze, and he felt her guard go up like a guillotine in reverse. However, when she spoke, her voice was steady and dignified.

"I'm Arashi." The young man on her other side mouthed her name to himself and Yuzuriha and Keiichi gave her warm, reassuring smiles. "And I play Maudie." She glanced up the table at Fuuma as if to make sure she had it right, or perhaps hoping he'd contradict her. When he just smiled impassively, she continued, "Andrew's sister and Kirsch's wife." She stared even more intensely at Fuuma as if still hoping for confirmation and to avoid making eye contact with Kanoe.

"Cool," said Fuuma. Arashi looked down at her script and the young man beside her spoke almost at once, apparently to save her the awkwardness.

"I'm Sorata," he said, grinning and waving. "I'm psyched to get to know all of y'all, seems like we got a good crew here!" He nodded around at everyone. "I play," his chest swelled for a moment as he said it, "Colonel Young." Arashi's eyes widened, but she kept them on her script.

"Tch," muttered Nataku.

"Awesome," said Fuuma, hoping he was as talented as he remembered. Sorata then turned to Hokuto's brother on his other side.

"Hello," he said, sounding rather nervous despite his easy smile. Kamui's eyes fixed upon his face and he leaned in closer. "I'm Subaru." Kamui smiled. "And I play Jackson," he returned Kamui's smile, "Andrew's brother."

"Sweet," Kamui replied, apparently without meaning to, but then joined in with everyone else in another wave of laughter. Hokuto gave Subaru a glowing look, then extended her arms wide and flashed the group a winning smile.

"I'm Hokuto, your wardrobe mistress!"

"Ooh!" Sorata exclaimed, and she pretended to dust off her shoulders.

"Yeah yeah, I'm just here to make an appearance, be grateful." She and Satsuki exchanged another smirk of solidarity. Subaru sighed and ran his fingers through his hair while Kakyo watched Hokuto from her other side with a kind of awestruck affection. It was several moments before he realized everyone was staring at him.

"Oh god, I'm sorry," he said, embarrassed. "Um, I'm Kakyo. I'm just here to help Hokuto out with costuming this-"

"Could you read for us tonight?" Fuuma interrupted. Kakyo started and stared blankly at Fuuma. Nataku shifted forward in his seat.

"I'm sorry?" Kakyo asked. Fuuma's smile softened.

"We had a last minute drop out. I was going to read his part myself, but I'd prefer someone else do it." Kakyo's blank stare was suddenly incredulous.

"I'm so not an actor," he began, slowly shaking his head, but again Fuuma cut in.

"And you told me fifteen minutes ago you can't sew, but you're here to do costume stuff, what's up?" A few people suppressed giggles, but everyone else just stared raptly at Kakyo. His throat and jaw kept clenching as though he were about to throw up. Hokuto put her hand on his arm.

"Go for it," she whispered. Kakyo sighed, all his good counterarguments apparently dying in his throat as he made eye contact with her except,

"I don't have a script," he said, helplessly. Immediately, everyone except Satsuki and Nataku tried to shove their own scripts at him, but Hokuto forestalled them.

"Take my copy. I was only going to use it to check how much longer we had left. No offense," she added to Mr. Aoki, who just waved the words aside.

"None taken!"

"So… Who am I reading?" Kakyo asked in a constricted voice, thumbing through Hokuto's script.

"Lieutenant Transeau," Fuuma replied, smiling warmly at him. "Irene's eventual husband."

"You'll do great," Hokuto said, cajolingly, squeezing Kakyo's arm. He just nodded, his lips pressed tightly together, paler than ever under the glow of the stage lights.

"Cool, I'm glad that's worked out. Thank you for doing this," Fuuma said. Again, Kakyo just nodded. "Anyway, who the fuck are you?" Fuuma asked Nataku, who didn't smile, but nodded at each person in the circle.

"I'm Nataku, stage manager and Fuuma's production assistant." As if to prove the point, he shuffled his script and uncapped his pen. Affection bubbled up in Fuuma's chest, but he said nothing as he turned to Karen sitting on his left.

"Last but not least?" She pretended to look outraged, but then smiled at all of her castmates.

"I'm Karen, lovely to meet all of you," she said. "I play Irene. Andrew, Maudie and Jackson's other sister and Transeau's eventual wife," she winked at Kakyo, who looked terrified.

"Fucking wait," came a low, threatening voice from the other end of the table. It took everyone a moment to realize it was Keiichi who had spoken, apparently in character. A moment of stunned silence followed, then gave way to another chorus of laughter.

"I can already tell this is gonna be a fucking great show," Fuuma said, and Keiichi beamed down the table, snapping out of character almost shockingly. "So, should we get started?"

"Please god?" Satsuki asked, and there was a shuffling of paper as everyone found their page. Mr. Aoki's chest swelled with excitement. Subaru took a sip of coffee, then read the first line, shifting back and forth as though pacing the living room described in the script.

"Dad died a year ago today. May fifth. It was cold and snowy and awful, I thought we'd die in it." Fuuma made an immediate mental note to tell Subaru not to take the angst in the text so literally. "You almost did, Irene, you passed out! I'm glad we can talk about it now, though, now you're back to wearing white and smiling." And to loosen up too, unless that was what he was going for.

"Bong!" Satsuki said, sarcastically, in response to the stage direction calling for a clock to chime.

"I remember the clock struck then too, at Dad's funeral, and there was music playing, and they fired a salute right in the cemetery. He was a general, but hardly anyone was there; it was still raining and snowing."

"Can we not?" Asked Karen, wearily but snappishly. Fuuma smirked.

"It's beautiful out today, though, even though it's early," Subaru continued, as though lost in thought. "Eleven years ago, Dad was made a general and we all left New York. It was right around this time." Fuuma wondered suddenly how much of these lines he'd end up cutting or shortening before opening night. "The city would either still be cold, or that one week where it's warm but not hot and everything's in bloom." The entire cast smiled appreciatively. "It's been eleven years and I can still remember it exactly. When I woke up this morning and felt the sun? Oh my god it was all I could think about."

"Fuck both of you!" Kusanagi cried, despairingly. There was a brief pause, then Kakyo said, in a small voice,

"You're right, it's ridiculous." Hokuto squeezed his arm and he looked anxiously up at her, then at Fuuma, who gave him a warm, reassuring smile and an encouraging nod. He nodded back as Subaru and Karen continued their lines.

"-and my students are taking years off my life," Subaru said, wearily. "At least today I'm free, I'm home and I don't have a headache. I even feel younger, though I'm still an old man at twenty eight."

"Um, sorry, you talk so much shit, I can't listen to you anymore." Kakyo's eyes widened for a moment. "I forgot, our new battery commander's coming…" His cheeks flushed, and Fuuma's smile widened. He could hear more and more potential with each word, though Kakyo was so obviously not aware of it. Not yet, anyway. "He's got a wife, a mother-in-law and two little girls," he said of Sorata's character, Colonel Young. "Whenever he meets new people he tells them 'I've got a wife and two little girls!' Watch, he'll do it here too." Sorata smiled at his script. "His wife's crazy though, only talks pop psychology and waxes philosophical," Sorata's smile tightened, "then tries to kill herself all the time." Kakyo's eyes widened. "I'm pretty sure she does it just to give him a hard time." Kakyo's eyes now seemed to take up half his face. "If it were me, I'd have been out years ago, but he puts up with it and complains instead." Kakyo shook his head while Sorata punched the air in mock celebration before Keiichi read Jepsen's first line.

"With one hand I can barely lift fifty pounds," he proclaimed. "But with both I can lift over two hundred, so I'm convinced two men are not just twice as strong as one, but three times or even more!"

"What the fuck," Sorata laughed, looking incredulously between Mr. Aoki and Keiichi.

"Isn't he ridiculous? I just love him!" Keiichi exclaimed, with that same, almost unnerving sincerity. Fuuma raised his eyebrows at Mr. Aoki, who seemed perplexed, though touched, before nodding at Kusanagi to continue.

"Coconut oil for hair loss, huh," he read, furrowing his brow, then, as though continuing a conversation, "okay but like I said, you stick a tiny cork in a tiny bottle, then a tiny glass tube-"

"Dr. Grant!" Karen cried, excitedly.

"Rini, my girl!" Kusanagi exclaimed, matching her tone. "How are you?"

"I'm so happy today, but I have no idea why!" Karen said, sounding on the verge of either laughing or crying, and a little giggle ran around the table. The lines continued, discussing the Perspicuo's late father, how much he valued hard work and whether or not hard work was actually beneficial.

"I've never worked," said Kakyo, narrowing his eyes at the page. "I was born in Seattle, cold and rainy and rich, and my family didn't know shit about suffering. My mother was a helicopter parent before we had the term, so she was horrified to think of me working anywhere, but I showed them and joined the military. We haven't spoken since." Kakyo actually smiled and shook his head rather disbelievingly. Fuuma was delighted. "We'll work though, all of us!"

"I won't," Kusanagi said, bluntly.

"You don't count," Kakyo shot back.

"I'm not trying to live any longer than my time on base here," Keiichi cut in, matter of factly. "I'll lose my mind and off myself, it'll be great." Fuuma loved Keiichi's energy and dedication, though he hoped he wasn't too set in his ways about how to play Jepsen and would be open to direction.

Kusanagi laughed suddenly, and Yuzuriha, who had been counting the pages until her entrance at the very end of the act, looked up sharply for his first big line. "No seriously! I've done fuck all since I completed my residency aside from whatever CME things and I don't read anything except random stuff online. See? I go on Facebook and here's, 'A woman did,' oh I don't even know, something," he laid heavy sarcasm on the word, "for a week and 'what happened blew our minds!'" He grinned down the table at Mr. Aoki. "Good shit."

"Thank you!" The cast nodded in agreement and continued reading. Fuuma kept his eyes on Arashi as her first big line approached. She gripped her script very tightly and stared even harder at the page, her face set in would-be dignified determination. Casting her as the most passionate and intense of the Perspicuo siblings was a decision Fuuma had made impulsively, though not against his better judgment. When she'd auditioned for Irene, he'd spotted a well of talent buried deep under years of insecurity, mostly likely brought on by criticism. However, he also knew Irene wasn't the role for her to harness that talent. He was sure it'd be arduous to get her to harness it even as Maudie, but the fact that she hadn't turned down the role, not to mention his overwhelming instinct, told him it would be worth it.

"He's always doing shit like this," Subaru said, crossly.

"It's been six years… And now I'm back… I'm home, Mother," Arashi said, clearly caught between trying to sound mysterious, sad and confident all at once. A few people raised their eyebrows, but no one commented.

"Where the fuck are you going?" Subaru asked.

"Home," Arashi replied, far more coldly than was called for. Sorata watched her in some concern.

"What the fuck?" Karen asked.

"It doesn't matter, I'll be back later," Arashi said, dismissively.

'At least that seems to come naturally,' Fuuma thought.

"Right after-" Arashi broke off and shook her head, "right after Dad died, when we'd hold memorials and what not, there would be thirty or forty officers, like, so many people!" Gone was her overly cold or dismissive tone. Now her delivery was soppy and insincere and everyone was feeling it. Kamui and Yuzuriha exchanged looks while Karen, Mr. Aoki and Yuuto's eyes widened. Sorata continued to watch her in growing concern. "And now there's hardly any of us, it's as desolate as the view outside!" She swallowed, and the would-be drama continued. "Today's not a good day, I'm depressive, just ignore me."

"Fuck me," Nataku whispered to Fuuma, who ignored him. He'd make this work. He always trusted his intuition.

"Here, my darlings!" Kanoe burst out, distracting everyone. "From the City Council, from Nathan."

"What…?" Karen asked, bemusedly.

"From Nathan," Kanoe repeated. Arashi swallowed.

"I hate him," she said, doing her utmost to sound disdainful. "He's always trying to buy his way into places." She closed her eyes for a moment, trying and failing to hide her distaste.

"I didn't invite him," Karen assured her.

"I'd hope not," she replied, as though the line tasted bitter. Fuuma could tell her reaction was beyond nerves, that something about the exchange had hit her the wrong way. He was immediately curious, though of course he wouldn't ask her to explain herself yet. Fortunately, Kusanagi's next line distracted everyone and allowed her time to recover.

"You guys are all I have in the world," he told Arashi, Subaru and Karen in a warm, loving tone. "You mean more to me than anything else. I'm an old man. A lonely, insignificant old man. The only thing good about me is that I love you. I've known you since you were born, and I loved your mother so much!"

"Aww," Nataku muttered to Fuuma, who was too busy watching to respond. Yuzuriha's wide, eager eyes were glued to Kusanagi as he delivered his line, though he didn't seem to notice. After a quick glance at his script, Fuuma's eyes found Sorata instead. He'd had a good feeling about Sorata this whole time, but he was curious to see how he'd interact with Arashi. Fortunately, when he began reading Colonel Young's lines, he was light and quick in his delivery, and the mood around the table lifted considerably.

"New York? You're from New York?" Karen asked, eagerly.

"Yes!" Sorata replied, smiling at his script. "Your father and I met at West Point, after all!" He turned to Arashi as per the stage direction. "I do think I might know your face, though," he said, thoughtfully. Arashi stared determinedly down at her own script.

"I don't remember yours at all," she said, and Sorata backed off at once. As he read further, he maintained his light tone even during Young's more serious lines.

"I used to live just off Delancey Street," he said. "Right by the Williamsburg Bridge, but the East River always felt far away. I could never see or hear it, but I guess the neighborhood was too loud anyway." Fuuma smiled at his script. "But here there's the Missouri River, which isn't full of dead bodies and chemicals!"

"I'd rather have that if it meant I also got humidity and seasons," Subaru countered, bluntly, and everyone laughed.

'Yes,' Fuuma thought. His eyes darted between his script and the people speaking, though they fixed upon Kamui as they got closer to his first line. He kept fidgeting and looking to Subaru to see if he was watching.

"Nice to meet you. You're here as Battery Commander?" Kamui finally asked in Andrew's first line. He sounded convincingly surly despite making the attempt at politeness. Subaru laughed, and he and Kamui exchanged a smile before continuing.

The Perspicuos complained about not enough sleep and too much education with Young and Transeau's encouragement, while Jepsen chimed in sporadically with out of place, awkward lines. Sorata tried to engage with Arashi during Young and Maudie's first moment, but she was either unwilling or oblivious. Kamui kept glancing down the table at Subaru after he read each of Andrew's sarcastic, grumpy lines, and would always receive a smile in return.

"My dearest in-laws!" Came Kirsch's first line, loudly from the end of the table. Everyone turned to Yuuto, who continued in the same unctuous tone. "From the bottom of my heart, my deepest condolences! The history of our high school over the last fifty years-" Yuuto pulled a face, but then pretended to hold up a book as per the stage directions. "Written by yours truly! Totally frivolous- Yeah no shit. Written by yours truly! Totally frivolous, when I had nothing better to do, but still read it regardless! Greetings, ladies and gentlemen! Mr. Kirsch, teacher at the local high school. There's a list of all the alumni from the last fifty years too!" Yuuto paused and narrowed his eyes, then struggled with the rest of the line. "Feci quod potui, faciant meliora potentes. What the hell does that mean?" He asked, laughing and turning to Mr. Aoki for clarification. However, it was Fuuma who answered.

"I have done what I could, let those who can, do better."

"Oh," Yuuto replied, looking stunned but impressed.

"Cicero," Fuuma continued, shrugging.

"Pedant," muttered Nataku, and Karen read Irene's next line before anyone could say anything else. The dialogue kept flowing, with all of the characters finally organizing themselves to have lunch, supposedly the whole point of the scene.

"They're already sitting down, I'm late!" Yuzuriha exclaimed, when Natalie finally made her appearance. "My hair still looks okay… Irene! You have so many guests, oh my god I'm so embarrassed!"

"It's fine, don't worry about it," Karen replied, wearily. "How are you?"

"Good, just… There's so many people, it makes me nervous!" Yuzuriha cried, giving her script an earnest little shake.

"It's just family and close friends, relax," Karen assured her, then added, in a hiss, "what the hell are you wearing?"

"What? This dress isn't okay?" Yuzuriha asked, alarmed.

"It's not wrong," Karen replied, slowly, "just cheap." Karen's eyes widened and she mouthed, "I'm sorry!" at Yuzuriha, who waved the words aside with a smile before reading her next line in a deeply hurt voice.

"It's not! I bought it especially for today!"

"Are you getting married anytime soon, Irene?" Yuuto asked, suddenly, convincingly oblivious to Irene and Natalie's exchange.

"And you, Natalie?" Chimed in Kusanagi.

"You've not got long to wait on that one," Yuuto told him in a wink wink nudge nudge type of voice.

"I'll take a glass of wine! Now! Please god!" Cried Arashi, another line that seemed to come naturally to her.

"Your conduct gets a C minus!" Yuuto scolded her.

"This is delicious," Sorata interjected. "What's the vodka infused with?"

"Cockroaches," Keiichi muttered to snorts of laughter. Everyone spoke the next few lines more to themselves than to each other; disconnected, one sided conversations about disparate topics. It was quick and easy and funny, until they all started to needle Natalie and Andrew about seeing each other. Fuuma could already imagine Yuzuriha rising dramatically from a dining table in a dated dress, red faced and mortified, and he smiled as the act drew to a close with Andrew and Natalie's final exchange.

"I feel so out of place!" Yuzuriha burst out, her face actually flushing.

"Fuck them," Kamui cut in, speaking in a powerful, commanding tone that made the whole table draw breath. "You have a place here with me, because I love you! I love you more than anything else in the world. They can't see us, who cares?" He sighed and stared at his script imploringly. "I fell in love with you- I don't even know, just, please…" The direction (They kiss) followed, and Kamui and Yuzuriha looked up at each other in unison. Kamui held up his hand, and Yuzuriha high fived him. The table broke into applause. Kamui looked quite pleased with himself, and his smile widened as he caught Subaru's eye for a moment before turning to Fuuma.

"Cool," said Fuuma, grinning approvingly like a teacher whose students had aced an exam. "How's everybody feeling, good?" They all nodded, some just to agree with those who were genuinely pleased.

"I'm absolutely thrilled!" Mr. Aoki said, beaming. Everyone smiled back, except Satsuki, who looked bored to tears, and Kakyo, who looked terrified. "Things pick up from here," Mr. Aoki continued reassuringly. "The first act is the longest, and setting the scene is always a pain." Fuuma nodded appreciatively while everyone performing muttered in agreement. "The plot actually starts to move now," he persisted, still trying to sound as reassuring as possible. "Well, to the extent that there is a plot."

"Stick a bunch of unhappy people in a room and watch what happens is a plot," Fuuma said, firmly. "Anyway, let's keep reading, shall we?" Everybody took hasty sips of coffee or water and turned to Act Two.

It began with Natalie and Andrew, married with a baby and living in the house with Annemarie, Irene and Jackson. However, they were already questioning their situation, Andrew by talking to the hard of hearing Annemarie and Natalie by beginning an offstage affair with Nathan, the man on the City Council who the Perspicuos didn't like. Maudie and Young's affair also began to develop while Transeau and Jepsen entered into their standoff over Irene. The act felt dark all around, and Fuuma imagined the same living room from Act One with just a few lights upstage and full of shadows. Keiichi's spectacular delivery, however, was like a verbal spotlight guiding his castmates through the act, quick and sharp and on.

"'Good morning!' I'll say," Yuzuriha explained to him about her son. "'Good morning, Maddox!' He'll just give me that look. You probably think it's just the mom in me talking but no! He's special, I'm sure." Yuzuriha rolled her eyes. Keiichi took a deep breath, then read, in a voice that crackled with contempt,

"If that baby were mine, I'd fry him in a pan and eat him." A moment's ringing silence passed. Then everyone, even Satsuki and Nataku, dissolved into stunned laughter. Keiichi gave the table a glowing smile, and it took almost a full minute before Yuzuriha was able to respond with a gasping,

"Don't be disgusting!" The act ended shortly after that, with Natalie insisting either Irene or Jackson give up their bedroom so that her son could have it, then sneaking off to see Nathan, leaving Irene alone on stage.

"New York, concrete jungle where dreams are made of…" Karen sang, softly, as Irene's last line.

"Fuck, this is bleak," Kusanagi said, leaning back in his chair and stretching.

"It's not that bleak, is it?" Mr. Aoki asked, looking between Karen and Fuuma.

"It's Chekhov as told by writer from the Northeast," Fuuma explained with a shrug.

"True, but I didn't think it was that bad," muttered Mr. Aoki, rubbing the back of his head.

"So I figure this is when we'd have an intermission, if only because we'll need a pretty drastic set change," Fuuma said, nodding at Kusanagi.

"You mean this isn't a production where we just paint everything black and our only set pieces are cubes?" Kusanagi asked, straightening up. "Damn it, I thought you might give me a break considering I'm also performing." Fuuma pursed his lips in another kiss that Kusanagi pretended to swat away.

"To that end," Fuuma said, also stretching. "Let's take ten. Smoke, get more coffee, whatever." There was a great scraping of chairs as the cast got to its feet. Kanoe's eyes fixed upon Fuuma, who stood up and immediately busied himself with his phone. No new messages. He'd expected this, but still. 'Fucking Seishiro…' However, he did text Camellia,

'Tsubaki! back at Babylon, your show's photo's still up, come see this one if it's good'

"I'm gonna get more water, do you want anything?" Sorata asked Arashi, who replied with a suspicious look.

"No thank you." Rather disappointed, Sorata followed Yuuto back into the lobby, and they immediately struck up a conversation.

"I'm gonna go smoke, I'll be back," Subaru told Hokuto and Kakyo before leaving the theater as well. Kamui, who had been talking to Keiichi and Yuzuriha, immediately scrambled to his feet and followed.

"So what do you think?" Nataku asked Fuuma, discreetly.

"I'm pleased," he replied, without a hint of sarcasm, sliding his phone back into his bag. "Kakyo?"

"Yes?" He asked, warily.

"Are you sure you've never acted before?"

"Positive." Fuuma tilted his head to the side.

"That's interesting. You have a lot of natural ability." Kakyo said nothing, just stared at Fuuma, nonplussed. However, Hokuto's face lit up. "If you'd be willing to step in and play Transeau, the part is yours." Kakyo's eyes widened and Fuuma leaned in closer to him, his smile soft and inviting. "I'd love to see what you're capable of." Kakyo's jaw clenched and he swallowed.

"I-"

"Fuuma?" When she apparently could stand it no longer, Kanoe's voice cut through the conversation like a hot knife. Fuuma gave Kakyo a sardonic smile.

"Sorry. Can I help you?" He asked Kanoe.

"Exactly how final is this casting?" Fuuma said nothing. "It just seems more fluid than I originally thought," she continued, delicately, her eyes darting to Kakyo.

"What do you want, Kanoe?" Fuuma asked, his sardonic smile still firmly in place. She glared back at him.

"Did Seishiro tell you to cast me as this old nanny?" She demanded in a hiss. Nataku sighed impatiently.

"Would it make it any less insulting if I said yes?" Fuuma asked her, completely seriously. A moment's silence passed, then Kanoe just rolled her eyes and shoved Fuuma's shoulder playfully.

"We can discuss it at the party I'm throwing Sunday evening," she told him, before returning to her seat.

"So you'll do it?" Fuuma asked Kakyo, as though there had been no interruption. Kakyo looked at Hokuto, who was grinning in an almost I told you so sort of way.

"But I- I'm sure I'd mess it up for everyone."

"Nonsense," said Fuuma, airily, before continuing on a more serious note, "we'll get you up to speed. Voice lessons, movement classes, help you memorize your lines, everything. Right Hokuto?"

"Of course! You don't have to fend for yourself here."

"Right," Kakyo replied, faintly.

"Excellent," Fuuma said, decisively, returning to his script.

"We gotta grab drinks or something," Yuuto said loudly to Sorata as they reentered the theater shortly after that.

"Absolutely!"

Subaru, Kamui and Keiichi all came in together with smiles on their faces, followed by Satsuki, Kusanagi and Yuzuriha.

"Welcome back," Fuuma said, watching his cast reassemble around the table. They were all less tense, and there was a feeling of unity among them now. "Act Three… This is when stuff starts to really hurt, right?"

"Well," Mr. Aoki replied, hanging his head apologetically. "It begins with one of the streets in town being on fire, so…" Everyone sighed as if gathering courage and flipped open their scripts to the top of Act Three. Kanoe began to read.

"They're crying, the poor little things, crying, 'Daddy! We don't know where he is! What if he's burned up!' How could they think such a thing?" The atmosphere tautened perceptibly. Everyone leaned forward into their scripts and Satsuki even scribbled a few notes in her notebook.

"Here, take these, and this one, oh god this is so awful! The Youngs' house has completely burned down!" Subaru exclaimed, much more genuine in his concern for the victims of this fire than in anything he'd read so far.

"Jackson, darling, don't throw me away, please!" Kanoe cried, staring rather disbelievingly at her script.

"What?" Subaru cried back, distracted. "What are you talking about, I'd never throw you away!"

"Jackson, I work, I work so hard, but I'm getting feeble! Everyone tells me to get out! Where would I go?!" Kanoe wrinkled her nose at her script as Subaru tried to calm her down, again sounding far more at home with these lines than with those complaining about work or education.

"They're talking about organizing a committee to help the victims of the fire, and I think it's a good idea," said Yuzuriha, loudly. She continued speaking Natalie's lines with an almost offensive flippancy that made everyone around her cringe and Fuuma smile appreciatively. "Oh god, I look horrible! They say I'm gaining weight, but I'm not! They're all crazy. Oh, Maudie's passed out, poor thing. What are you doing sitting down?!" She snapped, suddenly cold and furious as she addressed Kanoe. "Stand up and make yourself useful!" She sighed. "I seriously don't understand why we haven't put her in a home."

"Excuse me?" Subaru exclaimed, though he sounded almost tearful.

"There's no reason to keep her around!" Yuzuriha shot back. "She should be in a home where professionals can look after her! It's not my responsibility!" Yuzuriha was flushed again, and Natalie and Jackson argued until they were interrupted by Kirsch, then Dr. Grant, who drunkenly delivered a monologue to a seemingly empty room, Yuzuriha watching Kusanagi with rapt attention as he spoke. Then Irene, Transeau, Young and Jepsen entered, adding to the chaos while simultaneously tightening the tension. The back and forth got faster and faster until Young too began a monologue. Sorata did well, but the entire scene began to crumble when he tried to engage Arashi, who was still desperately out of place in Maudie's passionate anger, and it only got worse as Kirsch tried to bid for her attention.

"Fucking Andrew!" She said, doing her utmost to sound furious. "I can't stop thinking about it! He's mortgaged this house again and his parasite wife stole all the money even though the house belongs to all of us and he knows that!" Nataku pinched the skin between his eyebrows with his first two fingers and thumb.

"Andrew's in debt, Maudie," Yuuto said, soothingly. "Just leave him be."

"It's fucking disgraceful," Arashi snapped back.

"Is it?" Nataku whispered to Fuuma. Fortunately, Irene began speaking, and though she was also ranting, Karen's delivery was sarcastic and scathing despite the overwhelming "woe is me" attitude of the text. Mr. Aoki was smiling widely, until Maudie's next lines. Arashi dispassionately confessed to the affair with Colonel Young, working hard not to make eye contact with anyone. She seemed to realize everyone was staring at her, though, because her knuckles were going white around the edges of her script.

Fortunately, Andrew got his big rant to his siblings shortly after, which brought the mood back to where it was supposed to be. Kamui sounded convincingly like he was trying and failing not to freak out, before dissolving into almost tearful frustration. "I just, I've lost so much money and I don't know what to do, and I'm sorry! I stopped going to the casinos. My income is still fucked, though…" He sighed heavily and ran his fingers through his hair, then looked rather discomposed to see everyone staring at him. He smiled hesitantly at Subaru, Keiichi and Yuzuriha, before finally catching Fuuma's eye. Fuuma gave him a wide smile, and he looked very pleased with himself. The act ended with Irene agreeing to marry Transeau at Jackson's suggestion.

"Transeau's a good guy, right?" Karen cried. "I'll tell him, we'll get together! But please, promise me we'll get back to New York!" Her eyes widened and she shook her head to clear it. "Goodness…" There was a long, drawn out sigh as everyone released the breath they'd been holding.

"I'm fucking excited," Fuuma said, grinning in the aftermath. "So here there's gonna be another pretty drastic set change," again, he acknowledged Kusanagi, "so we might need a second intermission, we'll see. Either way, right now I'd like to keep going if that's cool?" The cast nodded. "Awesome, let's go."

"The brigade is leaving today, it's the end of an era!" Kakyo began, already sounding miles ahead of where he'd started. Everyone except Nataku and Satsuki smiled, though she was hurriedly scribbling notes. Dr. Grant, Irene and Kirsch joined the banter, discussing the military leaving and an altercation between Transeau and Jepsen that had taken place the day before. Irene, however, seemed to take no notice: she was too preoccupied about leaving with Transeau.

The mood of Act Four was much lighter, though it felt tired, as though everyone were just dying to be done with it so they could leave for the night. Fuuma understood, he was beginning to feel impatient himself, but he obviously hoped this wouldn't happen to the audience.

"Don't bullshit me, you've been in a weird mood all day," Karen snapped, and though she became tender as Irene and Transeau shared what would end up being their final goodbye, there was still a residual sharpness. Then Andrew got his last monologue and Maudie and Young said their own final goodbye. Sorata's eyes kept darting to Kamui and Yuzuriha, then to Arashi, as though hoping for a high five too. However, he had no such luck. Colonel Young took his leave, and Maudie, Irene and Jackson got to share a moment together before Natalie and Kirsch came in and ruined the mood with their out of place, insensitive contentment.

"So I guess I'll be by myself all day tomorrow," Yuzuriha sighed. "I think I'll have that tree taken down, it's ugly." She sighed again, then, her tone turning cold and furious all of a sudden, "What are you wearing that sweater for, Irene? It's hideous, you should know better!" She mouthed "I'm sorry!" to Karen, who just laughed. However, that moment was further shattered by Grant rushing in to break the news of Transeau getting killed in his confrontation with Jepsen.

"Let them all cry. Get it out," Kusanagi said, bitterly. "Tarara boom de-ay, I sit in gloom all day," he sang. "Who gives a fuck?"

"We have to keep going though, don't we?" Arashi cried. "We have to!"

"We have to," Karen agreed, furiously. "In the meantime, until someone figures out what the point to all of this is… I'll go away on my own, I don't care! I'll go back to school and then I'll work- I'll always work!"

"We'll all die anyway," Subaru said, bizarrely able to make the words comforting. "No one will remember our faces, how we talked, any of our suffering, but all of our pain will help people after us, right? It has to! But now at least, we still have time!"

"Tarara boom de-ay, I sit in gloom all day, who gives a fuck?"

"I wish I fucking knew," Subaru sighed. Very slowly, he looked up from his script. A moment passed in silence, then Hokuto cheered and began to clap. Everyone else joined in, though Fuuma didn't allow it to continue for very long.

"Fantastic," he said in a low, commanding voice, and the cast fell silent at once. "How are you guys feeling now, still good?"

"Fuck yeah!" Kamui cried, and everyone laughed.

"Awesome. Well tonight's got me thinking, I'll tell you that," Fuuma said, his eyes flashing. "Go home and get some sleep. I'll see everybody except Mr. Aoki, Satsuki and Hokuto here tomorrow morning at nine to actually get this shit moving." He stood up, and there was a great scraping of chairs and shuffling of scripts as the rest of the cast followed suit. Fuuma fully expected to be swarmed, but the only person to approach him was Mr. Aoki, though Nataku remained by his side.

"Thank you, seriously," Mr. Aoki said, shaking Fuuma's hand.

"Thank you," Fuuma replied. "This is a fucking great script." Mr. Aoki shrugged.

"I leave it confidently in your hands," he said, and Fuuma snorted. "No, really, I can't wait! You sure you don't need me tomorrow?"

"Nah, not unless you really wanna be here," Fuuma replied, shaking his head. "You're more than welcome to sit in whenever, but if you'd rather spend the time with your family that's totally cool." Mr. Aoki smiled and tilted his head to the side.

"Fair enough. I hope to see Seishiro soon." Fuuma smirked. "Anyway, good night!"

"Good night." Mr. Aoki turned and headed back out of the theater. Fuuma sighed and heaved his bag onto his shoulder. "How are you?" he asked Nataku.

"Excited?" he offered, sarcastically, and Fuuma laughed. "I'll close everything up, you go home."

"You sure?"

"Positive." Fuuma clapped him on the shoulder and headed out of the theater too. It was pitch dark outside of the lobby windows, and its interior seemed to glow unnaturally brightly after the stage lights. Those people still hanging around all wished him good night, and he smiled and waved as he left the lobby. He closed his eyes for a moment, breathing in warm grass and cool night air before heading to his car.

"Good job tonight!" he called to Kamui, Keiichi, Sorata and Yuzuriha as they passed him on the way to their dorm across the lawn. The four of them exchanged excited looks and waved as Fuuma got into his car. He started the engine and music blared from his speakers. Immediately ideas about music for his show flooded his brain, but he didn't think about them too deeply as he made a U-turn to get out of the parking lot. He caught more cast members in the beams of his headlights. They waved, and he honked twice before driving back up the sloping hill, through the now totally deserted streets of Clow and back to Seishiro's house. As with his previous years here, it'd take a few days before he got used to the utter lack of light pollution. However, at the same time, the impenetrable darkness was comforting as it closed in around him, alone with the events of the evening.

His body was tingling as though with electricity. There was nothing quite like being back at work. Not that he'd been sitting on his ass, he'd been directing shows all year, but… After last summer he had something to prove, and he knew he could prove it. He smirked, thinking of Seishiro as he pulled into the crunchy gravel driveway and noticed the other car was gone. Fuuma had known this would be the case, but he pouted his lips anyway as he shut off the engine and got out of the car.

Insects were buzzing and chirping all around him, the sound strangely magnified in the silence. He entered the house through the porch and headed upstairs without bothering to turn on any lights, the entire house creaking under his feet. He entered Seishiro's bedroom, stripped to his underwear and fell face down into bed.

He closed his eyes and breathed in deeply, smelling detergent, Seishiro and their afternoon together, the humming insects and wind blowing in the trees still loud in his ears. He pulled a pillow towards him and spooned it, and his last thoughts before falling asleep were of the screens he needed to fix.

Chapter Text

The next morning, Kamui padded down his dorm's carpeted stairs to find the kitchen already crowded. Keiichi and Sorata were at the stove frying eggs while Yuzuriha was sitting cross legged on the island in the middle of the room with a bowl of cereal. The kitchen and adjoining living room were white walled and full of natural light, though the cabinets and fixtures were rather dated. Screen doors on the far left wall led onto a creaking, peeling porch with a wicker table and chairs. The whole place reminded Kamui of the old beach houses his moms would rent in South Jersey when he was a kid, and he loved it.

"Morning, sunshine!" said Yuzuriha, grinning.

"Good morning," he replied, then, spotting the half full coffee pot beside her, "Yo, can I steal some of that?"

"You can have some, considering I made it to share," answered Keiichi, smiling at him over his shoulder.

"Thanks," said Kamui, retrieving one of the mismatched mugs from the cabinet and filling it.

"Y'all sleep okay last night?" Sorata asked. "I was fucking wired!"

"Me too!" Keiichi exclaimed.

"My dude, you've been wired the entire twenty four hours I've known you," Sorata replied, affectionately, and Kamui and Yuzuriha laughed.

"That's true!" Keiichi replied, totally unabashed. He jabbed playfully at Sorata with his spatula before shutting off his burner and retrieving a plate from another cabinet. "Seriously though, I was so hyped up it took me forever to fall asleep." He felt a pleasant shiver of excitement run through his body and smiled as he slid his eggs onto the plate and snatched his toast from the toaster. He remembered reading his lines, his castmates' shock and Fuuma's praise. Fuuma Monou's praise. "How about you guys?" He asked, picking up a fork and forgoing the circular dining table in the corner to lean against the island beside Yuzuriha.

"I slept okay, surprisingly," Yuzuriha said. "Even though Natalie is like-" but she broke off, shrugging. The moment she'd started learning the role, she realized that she really didn't like Natalie. She supposed that was the point, but she still felt guilty about it. Sorata and Keiichi nodded understandingly.

"Is she actually giving you trouble or do you just not know her well yet?" Sorata asked, stepping away from the stove to give Kamui room and starting on his own breakfast.

"Most likely the latter," replied Yuzuriha, trying to take an optimistic view of things. She finished her cereal, hopped off the counter and placed the empty bowl in the sink, her brow furrowed. It wasn't like she couldn't play someone she disliked, but… She poured herself more coffee, thinking of the readthrough last night, of playing off of Karen and Kamui so well, of Fuuma's approving little nods and smiles. She took a fortifying sip of coffee and tried once more for optimism. "I'm sure it'll get better once Fuuma starts telling us where he wants to go." The other three nodded and lapsed into their own thoughts, the only sound the sizzling at the stove as Kamui cooked himself breakfast.

"Did Arashi already leave?" Sorata asked, delicately, after a moment. Kamui caught Yuzuriha's eye as he carried his plate over to the island. While the four of them had relaxed into a flexible, jockular rapport almost immediately, Arashi had kept her distance just as quickly.

"I'm not sure," Keiichi replied. "I only saw her for a split second last night."

"She was tired, give her space," Yuzuriha said, patiently, and the four of them fell into another thoughtful silence as they finished their breakfast and cleaned up the kitchen.

"You guys ready?" Sorata asked, once everything was put away.

"Yup!" Yuzuriha and Keiichi said together.

"One second, let me just get my bag." Kamui hurried back upstairs and opened one of the six doors off the landing, five of which were to identical bedrooms, the other to the bathroom. Kamui couldn't help but smile at his name on the door, then at his room, also white walled and sunny. Even though his stuff was unpacked, he'd tacked up a poster of his favorite band above his bed and placed a photo of him and his mothers on his bedside table, he still couldn't quite believe he was here. It didn't seem real that Babylon Theatre company was his first real gig out of drama school, but it certainly affirmed that he'd made the right choice in going to drama school in the first place.

"I was a theater kid all through middle and high school," he'd told Subaru when he'd followed him out for his smoke break the night before. "And Yuzuriha and I always got cast as the leads." He hoped he didn't sound like an asshole, but Subaru just smiled around the smoke he was exhaling.

"And then you get to drama school and realize that's every single person in class with you?" He asked, knowingly. Kamui burst out laughing.

"Exactly!"

"That's such a humbling experience," Subaru said, his bright green eyes catching the soft pink and orange light of the setting sun. "At least you're actually good and not just high school drama good." Kamui flushed, but didn't contradict him.

"Kamui! Get your ass down here, we're gonna be late!" Came Yuzuriha's voice loudly from the bottom of the stairs.

"Fuck off, I'm coming!" He seized his bag and hurried back downstairs, glancing for a moment at Arashi's closed door across the landing.

"Finally!" Sorata cried in mock outrage. Kamui gave him the finger and they followed Keiichi out the front door. The sky was clear and cloudless and the air was pleasantly dewy and cool. "Sucks we're gonna be stuck inside all day," Sorata said, squinting out over the lush green property.

"Yeah," Yuzuriha agreed, but then,

"Wait up!" The four of them turned and saw Subaru, Karen and Kakyo all hurrying towards them from one of the other dorms.

"Hey!" Keiichi called as they stopped and allowed them to catch up. "How are you guys this morning?"

"Pretty not bad," Subaru said, fairly.

"Right?" laughed Karen. "I mean I know it's only day two, so I still have plenty of time to have my optimism dashed, but…"

"That's the spirit!" Sorata cried, punching the air. Kakyo accidentally caught his eye, and though Sorata smiled, he looked down at his feet at once, watching them step one in front of the other as they made their way to the Igarashi. He had no idea what to expect and was terrified of going in without Hokuto, though she'd assured him of her confidence as she'd made the whole dorm breakfast that morning.

"You're gonna do great!" She'd told him, stacking another pancake on his plate even though he felt too queasy to actually eat them. "Fuuma might be a pain in the ass but he's honest and he's smart. He wouldn't have given you the role if he didn't think you could do it." Kakyo looked up at her, but found it impossible to believe her. How could Fuuma know? People who'd known Kakyo for years were happy to just write him off, and Fuuma had known him ten seconds. However, he also felt too sick to argue, and Hokuto just smiled and began to slice strawberries.

Sorata pushed the lobby door open and they all followed him inside. Nataku was at the bar, apparently waiting for them. "Good morning," he said. He wasn't smiling, but his tone was marginally softer than it had been the night before. "You can go in. Fuuma's actually on time today." They laughed and proceeded through the door, but then, "Kakyo?" He started and faced Nataku. "You don't have headshots, do you?"

"I don't have what?" Kakyo asked, his stomach clenching as the already shaky ground beneath him began to disintegrate.

"Headshots," Nataku repeated, and Kakyo shuddered at the impatience in his voice. "Photographs of actors to display outside the theater so the audience knows who you all are." Kakyo flushed, both at his ignorance and at the idea.

"No, I-"

"That's okay," Nataku interrupted, though Kakyo was positive he was annoyed. "I'll talk to Hokuto about it." Kakyo's flush deepened, and though it was a relief, he couldn't help but feel guilty. Hokuto had done so much for him already when he totally didn't deserve it. However, he nodded as politely as he could and followed his castmates into the theater. Everyone else was already there, and Fuuma looked up from a discussion with Kusanagi, pleased to see them all.

"Good morning!" He called, and the group shared a shiver of excitement.

"So did you want the two rooms or not?" Kusanagi asked, hurriedly, trying to get an answer before Fuuma got distracted.

"No," Fuuma said, decisively. "Some kind of partition in the middle of the stage is gonna look stupid."

"Yeah, obviously," Kusanagi replied. Fuuma sighed and took a sip of water.

"How about this," he said. "For now, we'll just have one room, couches or whatever stage right and a dining table stage left to divide the space." Kusanagi nodded but Fuuma could feel his trepidation.

"And tell me more about this giant screen you want?" Fuuma laughed.

"It'll just be to light the upstage area, it's not that big a deal."

"Just light up? So it's backlit, not a projector screen?"

"Don't worry about it," Fuuma said, and Kusanagi gave him a warning look. "No seriously, we need Satsuki here to really talk about it anyway." Kusanagi took a deep breath in through his nose and sighed it out.

"I live for the day you stop pulling this shit," he said, then, "How do you want to set up?" Fuuma was about to shrug, but changed his mind at the look on Kusanagi's face.

"Like I said, I want a dining table stage left, then simulate a couch and an armchair stage right. We'll go from there."

"Help me carry chairs, then."

"Yes, sir." They arranged the table and chairs leftover from last night into the ghost of a set. Even though Fuuma thought the world of Kusanagi and trusted his abilities completely, they had butted heads every year that they'd worked together. He wasn't sure if it was his usual struggles with those other creative people who helped him bring his visions to life, or if it was personal. After last year, he was unfortunately inclined to think the latter. "This all right?" Kusanagi asked, toeing a chair a few inches upstage.

"Perfect, thank you," Fuuma said. He meant it, but Kusanagi just waved the words aside and picked up his script. Fuuma heaved an ostentatious sigh, then texted Nataku about set pieces he wanted before turning to face the rest of the cast. "All right let's get started!" he called in a commanding voice. "We're gonna start at the top of Act One, so could Maudie, Jackson and Irene get up here, please?" Arashi, Subaru and Karen hurried onstage at once. "Also-" Fuuma consulted his script. "Transeau, Grant and Jepsen, you three can hang out upstage left for now." Kakyo looked unsure, but then followed Kusanagi and Keiichi to the side of the stage with relief. "We'll need wings on either side of the screen upstage," Fuuma called thoughtfully to Kusanagi. "I'm thinking solid rather than curtains."

"I think that's a better idea too," replied Kusanagi.

"You see? I know what I'm doing, I swear to god. All right, everyone else can chill in the audience until we need you." Kamui, Yuzuriha, Sorata, Yuuto and Kanoe all sat down in the front row of the center section while Fuuma consulted his script. "Jackson, sit down at the table please?" Subaru obeyed, angling his chair slightly so it better faced the audience. "Maudie…" Fuuma paused, frowning at his script. "On the couch." Arashi took a seat on one of the four chairs lined up stage right, crossed her ankles and held her script in her lap. "Irene," he paused, his brow still furrowed. "You know what? Come downstage center." Karen did so, winking at the audience. Fuuma jumped back off the stage and smiled. "Yeah, this will work." He threw himself into the nearest seat. "Go for it." Subaru began,

"Dad died a year ago today-"

"Less wistful, please?" Fuuma cut in before he could stop himself. Subaru's eyes widened, but he started the line over, speaking with a more observant tone this time. "Better." The lines continued, and Arashi began to whistle as per the stage direction.

"Will you please stop whistling, Maudie?" Subaru snapped, rubbing his eyes.

"Irene, you gotta pace or something, don't just stand there," Fuuma interrupted. Karen began to shift her weight side to side as Subaru continued.

"I'm at school all day and then I have to tutor at night. I have this constant headache. I feel like an old man. I guess four years of teaching high school will do that, but I literally feel my energy being sapped." Fuuma was pleased to hear him still observing rather than whining. "Except for the dreams I keep having." Karen smirked and looked back over her shoulder.

"To go back to New York, to sell this house, tie up loose ends and-"

"Irene, as you say that, start making your way upstage." Karen sauntered up to the dining table and leaned against it.

"Go back to New York," she finished with a knowing smile. Subaru laughed, which Fuuma hadn't expected but liked very much.

"Please! As fast as we can, back to New York!" Karen crossed her arms and narrowed her eyes in Arashi's direction.

"Andrew will probably become a professor," she said, sardonically. "So there's no way he's staying here." She shook her head and smiled. "The only thing holding us back is poor Maudie!"

"Maudie can spend summers with us," Subaru said, dismissively.

"Here's hoping everything works out!" Karen said, still in that sardonic tone. She straightened up and began walking slowly across the stage, looking vaguely off into the distance again. "It really is beautiful out today," she continued, genuinely surprised. "When I woke up this morning I was randomly so happy, I remembered being a kid when Mom was alive. It was amazing!"

"It shows," Subaru said. "My little sisters are so pretty. Our whole family is pretty-" offstage, Fuuma saw Kakyo flush and grip his script more tightly "-even though Andrew's too skinny and my students are taking years off my life. At least today I'm free, I'm home and I don't have a headache. I even feel younger, though I'm still an old man at twenty eight."

"You talk too much shit, I can't listen to you anymore…" Kakyo read from the upper corner of the stage, his knuckles white around his script now.

"I'm sorry, what?" Fuuma called, his mouth twitching.

"What? Oh…" Kakyo's blush glowed brighter than any of the stage lights as he repeated the line in one of the weakest yells Fuuma had ever heard. Everyone hastily suppressed giggles, except Kanoe, who just made an impatient noise and covered her eyes.

"Kakyo, project, don't scream, please," Fuuma said, making a mental note to tell Nataku to call one of BTC's many gifted voice teachers.

"Sorry!" Kakyo cried, his face burning.

"It's okay!" Fuuma assured him. "Just keep going, get your ass on stage." Kakyo walked towards center stage as though he were heading for the gallows, squinting in the bright lights and determinedly avoiding looking at the audience. "Keep going," Fuuma said, firmly reassuring.

"Right, um, I forgot, our new battery commander's coming here today. His name's Young." At the mention of his character's name, Sorata turned to Fuuma, who nodded upstage left. Sorata jumped out of his seat and hurried to stand beside Kusanagi and Keiichi.

"Is that right?" Subaru asked, distractedly. "Cool."

"Is he old?" Karen asked.

"Nah, not really," Kakyo replied.

"Come downstage right as you say that," Fuuma interrupted. Kakyo looked at him blankly.

"Towards me," Arashi told him, quietly.

"So… Stage right is my right?" Kakyo asked, his flushed face glowing like the setting sun. Kanoe rubbed her eyes impatiently and Fuuma shot her a warning look.

"Yes," he told Kakyo with an approving smile. "And downstage is towards the audience. You'll learn, relax." The scene continued, and though Fuuma wanted to pick more at the delivery, he knew this early it was more important to just get everyone moving and let them feel it for themselves. In shows like this, without a lot of physicality, embodying the lines, not just speaking them, was especially important, essential for creating the relationships that drove the story forward. Fortunately, everyone seemed to have good chemistry and were already starting to play off each other. The only real problems Fuuma could see were still Arashi and Kakyo, but they were nothing he couldn't handle.

The front row got emptier and emptier as everyone took their entrances, leaving Fuuma alone with Kamui and Yuzuriha. "Can you play violin?" Fuuma asked Kamui under his breath, referring to the stage direction (Andrew playing violin can be heard offstage).

"Oh no," he replied, shaking his head and going slightly pink. "I can't play anything."

"That's cool," said Fuuma, his eyes narrowing as he watched Sorata give the first of Young's long lines. "That's what Oruha is for." Kamui nodded and turned a page of his script.

"Um, Fuuma?"

"What's up?"

"Where should I enter from?" Fuuma narrowed his eyes at the script, laughing as Keiichi asked, "Do you hear yourself?" loudly and incredulously.

"Upstage right, the opposite of where everyone else has been coming from." Kamui nodded and scurried up onto the stage.

"At least I have Transeau to assure me my life might be elevated and respected," Kusanagi said, sarcastically relieved, and Yuzuriha giggled.

"Andrew," Arashi said, thoughtfully.

"He got all the scholarly genes in the family," Karen said, also thoughtfully, before adding to Sorata, "He'll be a professor someday."

"Just like Dad wanted," muttered Arashi.

"After he realized it wasn't going to be me," Subaru sighed, rather resentfully. Sorata looked at him in some concern while Arashi rolled her eyes and stood up.

"Wait until it's your line to move," Fuuma told her, and she sighed but sat down again.

"Whatever," Subaru continued, shrugging.

"Come downstage," Fuuma said, and Subaru crossed his arms and made his way closer to the audience.

"Whatever. At least we can tease him for his crush on that girl."

"Oh god she'll probably be here today, won't she?" Karen asked, horrified.

"Run up to Jackson when you say that." Karen repeated the line as she rushed up to Subaru's side and gripped his arm.

"The way she dresses!" Arashi burst out, eyeing Fuuma as she got to her feet, but he just smiled back at her, and her entire body, already tense and nervous, stiffened awkwardly. "It's beyond unfashionable, it's tacky and pathetic." Her stiffness had spread to those around her, whether or not they were aware of it.

"Hold up, all of you need to take a breath," Fuuma interrupted. Everyone laughed, but, "No, seriously, right now. Everyone breathe in through your nose!" He held out his hands as everyone in the room inhaled, then gathered them up above his head and arched his back. "And out through your mouth," he sighed, bringing his hands back down in front of him as they all exhaled. Kakyo shuddered, Arashi looked suspicious, but the rest of the cast smiled refreshed smiles. "Good, now keep going. And keep your shoulders away from your ears!" Arashi's shoulders shifted awkwardly as she continued her line. She took on a snotty, mean girl air which she clearly didn't believe or feel comfortable in, and Fuuma made another mental note to get movement teachers in.

"I know she's from the middle of nowhere but come on! I used to think Andrew had taste, but… Maybe they're just banging." Arashi shook her head. "I heard she was getting engaged to Nathan or something anyway, so whatever." She looked up at Fuuma, unsure of how to follow the direction (Out another door.)

"Upstage right," he replied, and that's where she went.

"Andrew! Will you come here a second?" She stepped out of the way to allow Kamui to pass in front of her, looking like a teenage boy forced out of his room when his parents had company, and it made the entire cast laugh.

"Our younger brother, Andrew," Subaru said, and they exchanged a genuine smile across the stage.

"Focus," said Fuuma.

"Lieutenant Colonel Young," Sorata said, extending his hand to Kamui, who shook it.

"Nice to meet you. You're battery commander?"

"Jackson, go stand next to Andrew," Fuuma called. Subaru obeyed and, for good measure it seemed, stood behind him and placed his hands on his shoulders. Kamui looked back at him.

"Is this okay?" Subaru asked, and Kamui smiled and nodded.

"Focus," said Fuuma.

"He's from New York," Subaru said, squeezing Kamui's shoulders.

"Congratulations," Kamui told Sorata. "Now my siblings will be on your ass all night." Sorata laughed and rubbed the back of his head rather embarrassedly.

"It's all right! I'm surprised they aren't bored of me already, to be honest!" Kamui shrugged Subaru's hands away and made to leave the room again.

"Excuse you, where do you think you're going?" Subaru asked. Karen tried to grab him by the wrist and Arashi awkwardly extended her hand not holding her script.

"That's all I get?" Fuuma demanded. Karen and Kamui exchanged a look, then stared blankly at Fuuma, while Arashi just crossed her arms defensively. Fuuma sighed, heaved himself out of his seat and jumped up onto the stage, leaving his script on the table. "He's your little brother, right?" Karen and Arashi nodded, nonplussed. "So you two and Jackson are the only people on Earth who are allowed to beat up on him. Take advantage of that!"

"I'm an only child!" Karen cried, giggling, while Arashi's eyes just widened incredulously. However, behind them, Subaru snorted. His castmates turned to look at him, and he threw up his hands, his script flopping back and forth.

"What? That's entirely accurate!" he said, laughing despairingly.

"I'm gonna tell Hokuto you said that," Fuuma replied, grinning.

"And she'd agree with you!"

"I'd agree with what?" Everyone looked to the theater entrance to see Hokuto and Nataku framed in the doorway. Relief flooded Kakyo's body at the sight of her and he swayed where he stood.

"That older siblings are the only people allowed to beat up on their younger brothers," Subaru told her.

"Oh absolutely," she replied, shifting her bag onto her other shoulder as she strode up to the stage with Nataku behind her. "Let someone else try to put their hands on Subaru I'd fucking throttle them. Why?"

"I was just trying to prove a point," Fuuma replied, grinning. Hokuto raised an eyebrow.

"I see…"

"Did you two need something or are you just hanging around?"

"I got out of a meeting early," Hokuto said, shrugging and dropping into a seat in the second row, directly behind Yuzuriha. "So I figured I'd come bother you." She smiled at Kakyo, who gave another relieved little shudder.

"And I came to check on you because that's what I'm supposed to do," said Nataku in his usual deadpan boredom, taking the seat beside her.

"Oh shit we've got an audience now!" Fuuma exclaimed, sarcastically playful, before spinning around to face his cast again. "Anyway, what the fuck were we doing?"

"Irene and Maudie were dragging me back into the room when I tried to escape," Kamui supplied at once.

"That's right, that's right." Fuuma strode upstage to the corner from which Kamui had entered. "Put down your script and walk towards me." Kamui did so, and Fuuma stepped forward and linked their elbows. Kamui's cry of surprise gave way at once to laughter as Fuuma dragged him back center stage.

"You all right?" Fuuma asked, making sure Kamui was steady on his feet before letting go.

"Yeah," Kamui replied, grinning and rubbing his elbow.

"That's what I want," Fuuma told Karen and Arashi. "Each of you take an elbow. Let's see it." He snatched up his script and sat cross legged at the edge of the stage, facing them. Karen and Arashi exchanged a look, but then got into position. "Young, could we have your line again please?"

"It's all right! I'm surprised they aren't bored of me already, to be honest!" Sorata supplied at once. Kamui sighed impatiently and stomped back across the stage as Subaru cried,

"Excuse you, where do you think you're going?" Arashi and Karen stepped in front of Kamui, seized him by the elbows and dragged him back center stage.

"Fuck off, come on," he said, defeated, and everyone laughed.

"Better!" said Fuuma.

"Don't be fucking rude," Arashi scolded as she let go of Kamui. "They used to call Colonel Young the lovesick major and he's not even mad!"

"Mad what?" Sorata asked, and everyone let out sad, groaning laughs.

"I hope that line isn't too esoteric," Hokuto muttered to Nataku in their second row seats, taking her sketchbook out of her bag and opening it on her lap.

"In all seriousness," Arashi continued, still addressing Kamui. "What should we call you? The lovesick fiddler?"

"Or the lovesick professor?" Karen suggested.

"Stand next to each other when you say that," Fuuma interrupted. "You're talking more to each other than to Andrew, right?"

"Maybe thirsty's a better word," Subaru told them, under his breath, and they snorted with laughter.

"Exactly," Fuuma said. Kusanagi frowned slightly at the stage direction (Comes up behind Andrew, puts his arms around his waist and lifts him up) and looked up at Fuuma for clarification. He smiled and got to his feet again. "This is what I want," he said, coming to stand behind Kamui. "Ready?"

"Uh, yeah!" Fuuma wrapped his arms around Kamui's waist. lifted him up off his feet and swung him gently back and forth.

"For fuck's sake," Nataku said, shaking his head as Kamui pretended to struggle and flail.

"You okay?" Fuuma asked, setting him back down.

"Yeah, that was cool," Kamui said, breezily. Fuuma smiled approvingly and resumed his seat at the edge of the stage as Kamui snatched up his script again.

"I'll be gentler than Fuuma," Kusanagi told Kamui, taking his place behind him, and Yuzuriha's soft cry went unheard by everyone except Nataku and Hokuto under the cover of more laughter. Kusanagi lifted Kamui easily and swung him gently side to side. "Only someone whose heart is sick can live while thinking of only one person!" Yuzuriha sighed.

"Will you all fucking stop?! Seriously!" Kamui burst out, furiously, but Kusanagi continued to swing him back and forth.

"When should I stop this?"

"Now's good." Kusanagi carefully set Kamui back on his feet.

"You all right?" He asked.

"Of course I am," Kamui replied, grinning before continuing with his line. "I didn't sleep at all last night. I was up reading until four, then tried to sleep but it was no good. My brain was going all the fuck over the place, and then suddenly the sun was rising. Whatever." He paused to shake his head, looking convincingly exasperated, then continued in a wearily matter of fact tone. "This summer, once I have time, I wanna translate that book from Spanish."

"You know Spanish?" asked Sorata.

"Yeah, our dad was way too into education," Kamui replied.

"Look at your siblings as you say that," Fuuma interrupted. "Solidarity and what not." Everyone laughed, and Kamui cast furtive looks at Arashi, Karen and Subaru as he continued.

"All four of us know Spanish, French and German, and Irene knows some Italian, but what the fuck is the point?"

"You know how everyone's going to be dressed yet?" Nataku asked Hokuto, finally taking his eyes off Fuuma to look at her sketchbook.

"Most likely just normal clothes," she replied, holding her pencil a centimeter above the page and moving her hand back and forth as though sketching, though her eyes were still on the stage. "But who knows? Fuuma might suddenly want to play it all super literally and I'll have everyone in army uniforms and Kusanagi in scrubs."

"God help us," Nataku muttered.

"Indeed." Her hand continued to sway back and forth without actually drawing. Nataku followed her gaze to Kakyo.

"How'd you meet this one?" He asked, quietly.

"We met online," Hokuto replied, coolly, switching the cross of her legs under her sketchbook. "He'd been having a hard time, and I thought getting out of New York for a while and having a job would be very restorative." Nataku said nothing. "I didn't expect this, though," she admitted, her pencil still swishing back and forth above the page. Again, Nataku said nothing. "Are you worried?" Nataku's lips pressed together, and Hokuto smirked as at last pencil and paper made contact. "I would be," she said, though they both knew Nataku never spared feelings.

"Not as worried as I am about Arashi," he replied.

"But you know-" they said together, and Hokuto giggled quietly while Nataku smiled a rare smile.

"What Fuuma's like," Hokuto finished, a dated, frilly party dress blooming from under her pencil. "He's lucky he's talented." They watched Yuuto wax poetic before trying and failing to engage Arashi. "I can never tell if he has a plan from the start or is just lucky."

"Would either option be easier to deal with?" Nataku asked, dryly.

"Absolutely not," replied Hokuto. "I'm inclined to think he just wings it though," she mused, after a moment. "Remember last year when halfway through tech he decided to take down the entire set and start over?" Nataku made a disgusted noise.

"Yes. I had to listen to all the bitching, because, you know, there's something I can do about it when Fuuma gets an idea in his head." Hokuto patted his arm consolingly. "I'm glad Kusanagi's so chill, otherwise I'm pretty sure he'd have murdered Fuuma his first summer here," Nataku continued, matter of factly, and Hokuto stifled another giggle. "The best part was that he wasn't even happy in the end."

"Oh I remember," Hokuto replied, reaching into her bag for markers. "In Your Silence ended up being a fantastic show, though, I don't know what the fuck he was so annoyed about." Hokuto gave her sketch a deeply critical look, then snapped the cap back on her marker, flipped to a clean page and started from scratch.

"Artists…" Nataku replied, delicately. Hokuto stopped drawing to cuff him sharply on the back of the head.

"Yeah you two come downstage," Fuuma said, loudly, to Karen and Kakyo, backing up to give them room. Everyone else, except Yuzuriha, was sitting around the table. "Okay that's better, keep going."

"What are you thinking about?" Kakyo asked, sequestered with Karen downstage right.

"Face her, Transeau," Fuuma cut in at once, and Kakyo turned towards her, blushing.

"This," Karen said, shaking her head dismissively. "I don't like Jepsen. Does he always say ignorant shit on purpose, or…?"

"Yeah, he's weird," Kakyo conceded. "He annoys me too, but I mostly feel sorry for him." Fuuma crossed his arms and narrowed his eyes, fighting the urge to give notes on delivery. "When it's just us two he's chilled out and really funny, but bring more people into the room and he's a prick." Karen and Kakyo continued their exchange while Fuuma watched them critically and made suggestions. In the audience, Yuzuriha got up for her approaching cue while Nataku shook his head despairingly.

"Seishiro's so controlling, I don't know he puts up with Fuuma to be honest," Nataku muttered to Hokuto. She turned abruptly in her seat and gave him a deeply incredulous look.

"Oh please, we all know why he puts up with him," she replied in just above a whisper. Nataku tilted his head to the side.

"I said how, not why," he corrected her.

"Well, he's not stuck in here in the thick of it with us, is he?" she replied with a grimace. "He can come and go as he pleases, he's got it easy. Fucker," she added, for good measure. "Does his sus Wall Street job during the week then preserves his mother's legacy on the weekends. Not a bad gig, truly," she added, fairly. Nataku just shrugged.

"Andrew, pull her downstage," came Fuuma's voice, suddenly. Kamui took Yuzuriha by the hand and led her downstage center, right in front of the audience. "Yeah that's good. You don't have to kiss or whatever, just say the lines." They nodded, facing each other and still holding hands.

"I can't!" Yuzuriha cried, shaking her script. "I already feel so awkward and everyone's making fun of me! I know it's rude to leave the table but I," she broke off, closed her eyes and shook her head.

"Hey," Kamui said, bracingly, moving even closer to her. "Please don't let them get to you, it's okay! They're just fucking around, ignore them! They aren't bad people, and they care about me, about us! Here, come with me, no one can see us here," he finished, leading her even further downstage, looking to Fuuma for approval. Fuuma nodded, and they continued.

"I feel so out of place!" Yuzuriha cried.

"Fuck them!" Kamui cried back.

"New drama school grads are so sincere," Hokuto said, smiling affectionately up at them. Nataku's eyebrows raised a fraction.

"Subaru told me," she explained. "He and Kamui were talking last night."

"Ah." On stage, Fuuma began to applaud, and Hokuto put down her pencil to join in. Fuuma turned and blew her a kiss.

"Cool!" he exclaimed, setting down his script and stretching. "What time is it?"

"Quarter to eleven," Nataku supplied at once. Fuuma made a thoughtful noise as he reached his arms above his head, grabbed his right wrist with his left hand and pulled on it.

"How are you guys feeling?" He asked. "Maybe we take a ten minute break and get back to it before lunch?" He switched his grip and stretched the other way as everyone nodded in general agreement. "Cool, take ten, then." Fuuma faced the audience, sat down on the edge of the stage with his legs dangling over and leaned back in his hands. Nataku immediately hurried to his side. At the same time, Kakyo and Subaru made their way to Hokuto, Kamui in tow. Subaru exchanged a few words with his sister before heading out of the theater with Kamui, both of them smiling and waving at Fuuma over their shoulders. "Hey," Fuuma said to Nataku, also smiling.

"How'd it go this morning?" Nataku asked as Hokuto immediately began to fuss over Kakyo.

"Good good," Fuuma said, breezily, pressing his hands into the stage behind him to arch his back more. "Where were you?"

"In the office doing paperwork, then the prop warehouse looking for couches and a dining table after you texted me, then with Hokuto to tell her to get Kakyo headshots."

"You're the best."

"So you say."

"Do me one more favor and get voice and movement teachers in?"

"God knows he needs it."

"Thank you," Fuuma replied, ignoring Nataku's jab at Kakyo.

"You need coffee or anything?"

"Nah, just order pizza in like, two hours."

"Sure." At that moment, Arashi passed behind Fuuma, and he turned to stop her.

"Hey." She paused, clearly determined to keep her expression neutral as they looked at each other, but her eyes gave her away when they widened fearfully. "You feeling all right?"

"Fine," she replied, coldly. Fuuma hesitated a fraction of a second, then just smiled and nodded.

"What toppings do you like on pizza? Nataku's gonna order some." Arashi's eyes sharpened almost imperceptibly, and Fuuma could tell she was deciding if he was making fun of her or not.

"I'm not picky," she replied, before stepping down from the stage and exiting the theater.

Chapter Text

Sunday dawned humid and cloudy, and by the time the cast of Paying A Call To The Prozorovs ended their half day of rehearsal, a hazy summer shower was pattering against BTC's lawn and shivering in the surrounding trees. In the Igarashi's lobby, Sorata, Kamui and Keiichi debated going ahead with their planned three on three soccer game with some people in another show, but admitted defeat when lightning flashed outside the rainwashed windows.

"Come on, you guys, let's go," Yuzuriha told them, and, grumbling, they returned to their dorm with everyone else living on campus.

"Bye!" Fuuma called, waving at their backs. He then escaped to his car before Kanoe could remind him that her party was still going on that evening rain or shine. He drove home and spent the afternoon on the porch, stretched out on one of the battered outdoor couches, reading and texting Camellia while rain hammered on the roof and blew in through the screens he still hadn't fixed.

'Conseil is definitely my favorite' he sent her.

'he would be, considering Nataku is basically an Evil version of him' Fuuma snorted loudly as he sent the reply.

'LOL does that make me Evil Professor Aronnax?' The chat bubbles appeared, then disappeared, then reappeared again.

'pfffffffft I think the fuck not' Fuuma smiled. 'I'm scared to let you direct this adaptation now…' Fuuma smiled wider.

'all right, Ms. Albee...' The moment he sent the text, Nataku actually called him, the sugary pop song he had set as his ringtone contrasting sharply with the rainstorm. "Speak of devil," said Fuuma, sliding his thumb across the bottom of the screen. "Hello?"

"Are you gonna be at Kanoe's party tonight?" he asked, without preamble. Fuuma marked his page in his book and sat up, making the plasticky fabric squeak.

"Are you?" he countered. Nataku paused a moment.

"I'll go if you go," he said, eventually. Fuuma smirked.

"Maybe, but I'm rather enjoying my evening off."

"Tomorrow you have the whole day off."

"Fair point…" Fuuma missed Nataku's impatient sigh under the sudden distant crunch of gravel under tires. He stood up, brow furrowed and phone still pressed to his ear, crossed the porch and opened the screen door. A wide smile spread across his face as Seishiro's car pulled up beside his. "You know what?" he told Nataku, his heart speeding up. "I definitely need the night off. Plus it'll give you guys time to complain about me."

"Did I hear a car?"

"Probably." Seishiro got out, slammed the door and hurried up to the porch, head bowed against the rain.

"You're a dick, Fuuma."

"Bye, Nataku!" Fuuma ended the call and tossed his phone onto the couch beside his book. Seishiro ducked inside and Fuuma let go of the door, but the sound of it clattering shut barely registered as Fuuma and Seishiro looked at each other. Seishiro wasn't smiling, and he was wearing a full suit despite having the day off and sunglasses despite the rain. "Those glasses make you look like a sex offender," Fuuma informed him. Seishiro took them off and stepped right up in Fuuma's space.

"What?"

"What?" Fuuma seized Seishiro and pulled him into a heavy, passionate kiss, inhaling the rainstorm and his aftershave. Seishiro sighed almost gratefully and threw his arms around his neck. Fuuma let out a noise somewhere between a moan and a growl, thrust his tongue into his mouth and slid his thigh between his legs. Seishiro shivered in his arms and Fuuma kept going, his kiss powerful and possessive as his hands roved over Seishiro's body before finding his hips and squeezing them. They stayed there as long as Fuuma could stand it before he pulled away, leaving Seishiro gasping and glassy eyed. "You're already hard," observed Fuuma, moving his thigh back and forth. Seishiro shivered again but didn't break their gaze. "Were you hard all the way up here?" Fuuma's voice lowered seductively. "Thinking about me?" Seishiro's breath caught in his chest, but then his lip curled.

"Not the whole time." Fuuma let out a sharp burst of laughter and began to grind Seishiro back and forth against his thigh, his fingers still digging into his hips.

"No?" He leaned in closer and started nosing against Seishiro's cheek, his jaw, his ear. "Is that because you've been jerking off since I last saw you, even though I asked you not to?" he breathed, arousal surging up inside him, flushing his skin and sharpening his senses. He bit down on Seishiro's ear and he shuddered, his erection twitching against Fuuma's thigh and fingers digging into his upper back. "Mm…" Fuuma held tight to Seishiro's waist with one hand, then squeezed his ass with the other, relishing the feel of his soft, pliable skin under the crisp, expensive fabric. Seishiro's mouth opened in an almost silent gasp and he arched gently into the touch, grinding harder against Fuuma's thigh. "Well?" Fuuma asked, kissing Seishiro's neck, slowly and deliciously. He took a deep breath in through his nose, smelling his skin, his hair and his cigarettes, then darted his tongue just under his shirt's stiff, starched collar. Seishiro let out another almost silent gasp, and Fuuma felt the muscles of his throat contract as he swallowed. "Or maybe," Fuuma persisted, dragging his tongue up Seishiro's neck. "You didn't touch yourself, but you got off some other way?" Seishiro flushed and Fuuma's erection throbbed as he felt a deeply exciting rush of power. "You get head under your desk from a secretary or something?" The smallest of strangled cries escaped Seishiro's throat and Fuuma pulled away to look him in the face. Seishiro shivered again, but gathered himself to speak and the space between them tautened.

"That depends on how many people in your cast you've already slept with." Fuuma's vision seemed to tunnel in on Seishiro's face, his challenge, his charisma, his desire, and he kissed him hard on the mouth. Seishiro arched into the kiss, his chest flush up against his, and Fuuma dug his fingers into his ass almost painfully hard, allowing them both to give into the pleasure for just a moment before wrenching himself away, though their lips were still millimeters apart.

"I've been good this year," he breathed. Seishiro's eyes widened and his lips parted as though he were going to say something, but he just swallowed. Fuuma smirked. "Get upstairs." Seishiro again seemed on the verge of saying something, but again seemed to think better of it. He extricated himself from Fuuma's embrace and stalked off inside the house.

Fuuma followed at a distance like a hunter, his eyes darting back and forth between Seishiro's ass, swaying as he walked; his shoulders, broad and sexy under his suit jacket; and the sliver of pale neck above his collar that he wanted so badly to sink his teeth into. As they ascended the stairs, Fuuma took hold of Seishiro's hand. Seishiro paused, his other hand tightening around the artfully carved banister, and looked at Fuuma over his shoulder. His proud, handsome features darkened in a lustful smile, and Fuuma leapt up to his stair to kiss him again. Seishiro's grip on his hand tightened, apparently subconsciously, as they broke apart. However, his smile didn't alter and he pulled Fuuma up the rest of the stairs, down the hall and into his bedroom. He paused on the threshold, but then Fuuma slammed the door shut, pulled him close and kissed him.

Seishiro let out another soft gasp as Fuuma immediately began to undress him, forcing his suit jacket off his shoulders and undoing his tie before attacking the buttons on his shirt. Without breaking their kiss, Seishiro pressed his hands up under Fuuma's t-shirt to palm his chest. Fuuma's stomach muscles pulled in and up at the touch and he groaned appreciatively as he moved his lips to Seishiro's neck, kissing and biting and sucking up to his ear.

"What do you want?" Fuuma breathed, feeling Seishiro's hands tense and release against his chest. "My hand?" Seishiro made an impatient noise and pulled Fuuma's shirt up over his head. Fuuma laughed and let him do it, taking a moment to enjoy the exposure and the expression on Seishiro's face as he took in his bare chest, before he forced off his button down, seized his undershirt and pulled it up. Seishiro lifted his arms, but rather than take the shirt off, Fuuma pulled it tight around his wrists and held his arms above his head. Seishiro closed his eyes and bit his lip, but didn't struggle. He almost never did, and Fuuma couldn't decide if that was more or less exciting. He smirked and put his face very close to Seishiro's. "My mouth?" Seishiro's expression contorted with arousal before he forced his eyes open.

"I didn't drive two and a half hours just for that," he snapped, his eyes blazing, though the effect was somewhat ruined by his flush and the arousal thick in his voice. Fuuma laughed softly and ghosted his lips against Seishiro's, his hands tightening on the fabric around his wrists.

"No? But I thought you loved fucking my mouth…" He dragged one hand down Seishiro's hot, smooth chest. "And I know you like my tongue inside." He undid Seishiro's pants and slid his hand in, avoiding his erection and squeezing his ass instead. Seishiro shuddered violently and bit back a frustrated, needy cry. Fuuma laughed softly and caught his mouth in one more intense, heavy kiss before finally pulling his undershirt off and tossing it behind him. "Get undressed and lie down," he said, his tone and gaze dark and desirous.

Seishiro closed his eyes for a moment, but then turned and hastened to obey. Fuuma's lip curled and he kicked off his pants and underwear; his attention all on Seishiro as he undressed and lay down in bed, legs apart, one hand on his chest and the other on his belly. The soft grey light filtering in through the windows made his skin shine, moon bright and perfect as he, apparently subconsciously, spread his fingers as if to cover himself. Fuuma felt a rush of heat and affection as he climbed on top of him and settled between his legs before kissing him passionately and thrusting his hips up against him.

Seishiro's breath caught in his chest and he wrapped his arms and legs tight around Fuuma to pull him closer. Fuuma groaned into his mouth, the heat and friction between them making his entire body flush and throb with excitement. He ran his hands up and down Seishiro's sides before reaching under to grab his ass and spread him apart. Seishiro's eyes flew open and he pulled out of their kiss, but it was Fuuma who spoke. "How do you want it?" he asked, unable to resist kissing him again as he pressed his thumb up against his entrance. "Just like this? Or from behind?" He started rubbing his thumb in a slow, teasing circle and Seishiro shut his eyes tight and leaned his head back. "Or maybe spooning, I know that's your favorite…" Seishiro twitched against Fuuma's thumb as if trying to pull him inside. "You're throbbing… You want it bad, don't you?" Seishiro just pulled him into another kiss. Fuuma groaned, his erection pulsing excitedly, though he felt too consumed with Seishiro, with what he was going to do to him and how good he was going to make him feel, to take much notice.

He kissed him back for a few more glorious seconds before pulling away and sliding down his body. Seishiro unwound his arms and legs and spread out on the bed. Fuuma took a moment to survey him, receptive and wanting and beautiful, and his erection twitched hopefully again as his lip curled into a very excited smile. "Fuck," he said, simply, snatching lube and a condom from his bedside table drawer. "You look so fucking good right now," he moaned, squirting lube onto his fingers and pressing them up against Seishiro. "Mmhmm…" Fuuma slid his fingers inside and groaned as he felt Seishiro take them and tighten greedily around them. Fresh arousal flushed Fuuma's skin as he began to move his fingers in and out, caught between how much he loved pleasing Seishiro this way and how much better they'd both feel once he was inside him.

He breathed hard through his nose as he expertly stretched and explored, then curved his fingers upwards at exactly the right angle. Seishiro shut his eyes tight, a gasping moan just barely escaping his throat as he tightened hard and suddenly around Fuuma's fingers. Fuuma felt the sensation all the way up his arm and kept his fingers there, moving them in small, hard circles. Seishiro's entire body seized up and another breathy cry escaped his throat. "It's good, isn't it?" Fuuma asked in a low, desirous voice. He leaned in closer so his lips were millimeters from Seishiro's erection, took a deep breath in and sighed, hot and heavy, against his tip, and goose bumps erupted all over his thighs. "I'd suck you so good right now," he said, gently easing his fingers off Seishiro's sweet spot. "I know you said you didn't come here for that, but," he spread his fingers wide apart. "I could suck you and-" He curved his fingers sharply upwards again. Seishiro's toes curled and his erection throbbed visibly. However, Fuuma kept his eyes on his face, his flushed cheeks and parted lips and ecstatic expression. He opened his eyes blearily and locked his gaze with Fuuma's, and a shock of arousal ran through both of them in the taut silence.

"Will you actually make me come?" Seishiro asked, somehow managing to sound challenging through his need. Heat rushed between Fuuma's legs and his stomach pulled in and up, but he just laughed softly and took his fingers away. Seishiro's eyes widened as he watched Fuuma pick up the condom and slide it on. He smirked as he seized the lube and squeezed it into his hand, then arched deeply into his lower back as he slicked up his erection. He knew he was being obnoxious, but he didn't care, especially as Seishiro wordlessly brought his feet flat onto the bed and allowed his knees to fall open invitingly. Fuuma seized Seishiro's thighs and pulled him roughly down the bed, then held him in place with one hand and took hold of his erection and guided it into place with the other.

"Ready?" he asked, and Seishiro nodded and closed his eyes. He took a deep breath in and sighed it out, and Fuuma pressed inside, slowly and carefully, so attentive for any sign of discomfort. However, Seishiro relaxed almost at once, allowing him all the way inside. Fuuma let out a low moan of satisfaction and closed his eyes, giving himself over for a moment to the hot, glorious pressure around his erection, to Seishiro's thighs quivering against his waist and heels digging into his lower back. When he opened his eyes, Seishiro was staring back, his eyes blazing and lips parted, entire body wordlessly begging for it. On another intense rush, Fuuma drew his hips back, slowly and torturously, and felt Seishiro pull in tight around him as though trying to keep him inside. His lip curled in an almost predatory smile and his vision once more tunnelled in on Seishiro's face as he thrust back inside. Seishiro let out a choked, breathy moan and his eyes rolled back in ecstasy. "That okay?" Fuuma asked, withdrawing his hips again.

"Yes," Seishiro replied, and the challenge and impatience wrapped in a thick layer of desire was enough to drive Fuuma crazy. However, he remained in complete control of himself as he thrust back inside. He then dug his fingers into Seishiro's ass and lifted him higher, creating a deeper arch in his lower back.

"Keep your arms above your head." Seishiro obeyed, staring Fuuma hard in the face and gripping the pillows. Fuuma smiled approvingly, pulled out and thrust back inside. Seishiro groaned through gritted teeth as Fuuma kept going, fucking him hard and fast and deep. He let out a noise somewhere between a moan and a growl and closed his eyes, giving himself another little moment of ecstasy in the heat and pressure, before returning to Seishiro. "Does it feel good?" he asked, as though Seishiro's flushed skin, heaving and glistening chest and white knuckled grip on his pillows weren't answer enough. Seishiro said nothing, just gritted his teeth and squeezed his thighs tighter around Fuuma's waist. "Yes," Fuuma answered for him. "Why are you so quiet?" he asked, his lips ghosting over Seishiro's. Seishiro tried to catch his lips in a real kiss, but Fuuma moved just out of reach with another smile and deeper thrust of his hips.

Seishiro closed his eyes again and failed to swallow another moan as Fuuma stayed still, deep inside and right at the perfect angle, teasing gloriously but not offering any real relief. He moved his lips to Seishiro's neck, kissing and sucking gently at his flushed skin while he shuddered and shifted beneath him. "I wish you'd let me leave marks," Fuuma breathed, right in Seishiro's ear. "What if it wasn't somewhere visible, maybe your back?" he suggested, biting down lightly on his earlobe. "I know you don't let anyone else fuck you like that…" Seishiro took a sharp breath in and started trying to move his hips, to find more friction. Fuuma smiled and let him, enjoying his frustration and desperation. "You can leave marks on me, if you want," he growled in his ear. "Give everybody something to see, make them all jealous." Seishiro turned his head abruptly, seized the sides of Fuuma's face and pulled him into a heavy, passionate kiss.

Fuuma hadn't expected that but fuck if it didn't turn him on. He shoved his tongue into Seishiro's mouth with a hard moan, kissing him as deep as he could. Seishiro melted into the kiss, grinding even harder against Fuuma's erection and holding tight to the sides of his face. Fuuma allowed himself to sink once more into the all consuming pleasure, to feel gloriously in his senses. His hands were all over Seishiro, up and down his thighs and arms and chest, tangling in his hair, and it was impossible to tell whose breath and heartbeat were whose in the hot, sweaty friction. After who knows how long, Fuuma pulled out of their kiss, leaving both of them gasping as though emerging from underwater, and found his desire and desperation mirrored in Seishiro's expression.

"Keep your arms above your head," he said in a low, commanding growl, and Seishiro's hands shook as he let go of Fuuma's face to grip the pillows again. Fuuma withdrew, unwrapped Seishiro's legs from his waist and threw them over his shoulders. He then sat up on his knees, lifting Seishiro even higher off the bed, and smiled down at him. "Come for me, Seishiro," he said, his eyes darkening as he pulled out and thrust back inside, much faster this time. Seishiro threw his head back, and though he kept his lips pressed tightly together, Fuuma could still hear his moan, and immediately knew another hot surge of arousal. "Fuck yes!" he groaned, fucking Seishiro as hard and fast as he could.

The friction and pressure and angle immediately put him at the edge, but he fought it as hard as he could. He wanted more than anything to make Seishiro come first, and the pressure inside him intensified at the thought. "Come for me, Seishiro," Fuuma moaned again. Seishiro gasped and reached between them, but Fuuma stopped moving abruptly. "You don't need your hand. Keep it where I told you." Seishiro's eyes flew open, and Fuuma drank in the conflict that played out across his face: the desperation to defy the command and the fear and curiosity of what would happen if he did.

However, before he could make his choice, Fuuma seized both of his wrists and pinned them by his sides. "You don't need your hand," he breathed as he began to move his hips again, fucking him hard and fast and deep. Seishiro finally allowed himself to moan as his hands stretched and clenched helplessly against the restraint and his thighs shook violently against Fuuma's chest. Fuuma's breathing was heavy and his entire body kept shuddering, begging him to just give in and come, but he waited, and waited, the last few moments dragging on painfully until-

"Ah…!" Seishiro cried, his eyes flying open and muscles seizing up.

"Come for me, Seishiro."

"Ah…!" Seishiro's erection throbbed as he spilled himself all over his chest and his belly. He shut his eyes tight, though his mouth remained open as he gasped and moaned. Fuuma watched it all play out, fucking him through it with the utmost care and attention, until it became too much.

"Oh fuck, I'm gonna come!"

"Ah…" Fuuma let out a long, low groan as he came, hard, inside Seishiro, the built up heat and pressure rushing out of him in intense, pleasurable spasms. He kept moving, fucking hard into Seishiro until he'd drained himself completely, leaving his mind and body empty of all but echoing, satisfied space. With one last, deep moan he collapsed on top of Seishiro, who immediately wrapped weak arms around him. In between gasps, Fuuma kissed him tenderly on the cheek, then buried his face in his neck. They stayed there a long time, sharing shivers of residual pleasure and steadily slowing breath and heartbeat.

Eventually, the rest of the world started to come back to them. For a while, the only sounds were birds chirping, insects humming and the house creaking, until, "Could you pull out?" Seishiro's voice was gooey, though his usual bluntness and impatience were already resurfacing. Fuuma kissed him on the neck, straightened up and carefully pulled out. He peeled off the condom, tied it up and threw it into the trash while Seishiro stretched, then narrowed his eyes at the mess on his belly and chest. Fuuma smiled, yanked some tissues out of the box on the nightstand and wiped him clean.

"Good?" Fuuma asked, throwing the tissues away and lying down beside him. Seishiro said nothing and Fuuma pulled him into his arms. "Mmhmm…" Seishiro sighed impatiently but relaxed against Fuuma, allowing him to hold him close. Fuuma kissed him on the top of the head and he made another impatient noise. "Sorry." He kissed him there again. Seishiro rolled his eyes. "I didn't expect you back so soon," Fuuma said, after a while. "Did something bad happen?"

"Of course not," Seishiro replied against his chest. He sighed again. "My fucking cigarettes are in the car." He tried to sit up, but Fuuma held him in place.

"I'll get them, you relax." Seishiro looked up at him incredulously, but Fuuma kissed him on the lips and he didn't seem to think it worth arguing.

"My keys are in my pants pocket."

"Cool." Fuuma gave him one more kiss, then heaved himself out of bed. He pulled his jeans back on, dug in Seishiro's pocket for his keys and turned to go, but paused on the threshold. "Don't go anywhere," he told him, over his shoulder, before hurrying back downstairs.

Once outside, Fuuma closed his eyes. It had stopped raining, and he could feel the sun's rays, warm and bright, on his face. He took a deep breath in, and the fragrant afternoon air filled all the new space in his body. He knew a momentary, but bone deep, contentment as he opened his eyes, unlocked Seishiro's car and retrieved the pack of cigarettes and lighter from the dashboard. To his happy surprise, he also spotted an overnight bag and a bottle of wine on the passenger's seat, and snatched them up.

He slammed the door shut and hurried back upstairs to find Seishiro exactly where he'd left him, stretched out on the expensive sheets. He looked up when Fuuma entered the room and sat up carefully, closing his eyes for a moment rather than wincing. Fuuma placed Seishiro's bag and the bottle of wine on the desk in the opposite corner of the room before handing him a cigarette out of the carton. "You're staying here tonight?" he asked, lighting it for him. Seishiro took a deep pull on the cigarette and exhaled the smoke in a fine stream, relief showing instantly on his face.

"I was planning on it. Tomorrow's a 'work from home' day." Fuuma nodded, placed the carton of cigarettes on the bedside table and sat down on the bed. He didn't exactly understand what Seishiro's day job was, except that it was in finance and probably some rebellion against his bohemian upbringing. They never really discussed it, focusing instead on Seishiro's work on the Board of Directors at BTC, which he'd done since his early twenties after Setsuka's death. However, Fuuma had never been sure how much Seishiro cared about BTC, whether he wanted to see it thrive or crash and burn.

He remembered, suddenly, the first time Seishiro had brought him here to meet the rest of the Board members. They'd gathered for a lunch meeting at one of the mediocre restaurants in Clow on an afternoon in early March. The town was still almost empty and covered in snow and made Fuuma think of The Shining. "I want Fuuma to direct My Name No One Shall Know this summer," Seishiro had told them, calmly, though the threat behind the words was obvious. Fuuma wondered if he'd learned to speak that way from Setsuka, who he so resembled. Fuuma hadn't seen her perform live, let alone known her personally, but he'd gathered from stories of people who did know her (and the snippets that Seishiro allowed him) that she'd been able to get what she wanted by sheer force of will and charisma. "I've seen his work. It's different and it's exciting, unlike what we've been putting on for the last five seasons." The board members exchanged looks, clearly unsure if they should be offended or not. "His production of Macbeth was the first time I haven't been bored watching Shakespeare in years." Everyone who had ever actually been on stage in their lives winced.

"Do you want one?" Seishiro asked, bringing Fuuma back to the present.

"Hm?" Seishiro offered him the carton of cigarettes. Fuuma smiled, took one and lit it from the tip of Seishiro's. He inhaled deeply from it, then immediately missed the summer air in his lungs even as the effect was soothing. "That's sweet of you," Fuuma said on his exhale. "So what the fuck did you come up here for? Suddenly interested in process?" Seishiro let out a short, contemptuous laugh and took another drag from his cigarette.

"No, but I thought I'd check in regardless." Fuuma smirked and exhaled smoke through his nose.

"You mean check in like ask me how it's going once or like actually going and seeing for yourself?" Seishiro finished his cigarette and put it out in the ashtray on the bedside table.

"I'm fine taking your word for it."

"Hah… Only because Kanoe and Yuuto are having a party at their house tonight, if you'd rather actually talk to everybody…" Seishiro replied with an extremely nasty look, but Fuuma just leaned forward and kissed him. "Come on, you know I'd never actually make you go to something like that, fuck outta here." Seishiro met his gaze, and for a moment Fuuma could so clearly see the little boy from the photograph above the mantelpiece downstairs.

"Don't get ash on my bed." Fuuma rolled his eyes as he pulled away and took another drag from his cigarette. Seishiro sighed and eyed the carton for a moment, but resisted and returned his gaze to Fuuma. "Shouldn't you be at this party, though?"

"Nah," Fuuma replied, dismissively. "It's not a legit thing, just a grown up house party." Seishiro nodded distastefully. "Right? Besides, now they get time to all collectively bitch about me." The corner of Seishiro's mouth twitched.

"Is this when I ask you how the show's going once?" Fuuma took one last, long drag from his cigarette and put it out.

"You can if you want," he replied, indifferently. "But I'm fucking starving, you wanna clean up and eat something first?"

"In all seriousness, what should we call you, the lovesick fiddler?" whispered Arashi, sitting up in bed with her script on her knees. There was a gentle knock on the door, but she was too deep in her line learning to hear. "And then… Here knowing three other languages is just gratuitous-" She jumped at a more insistent knock, then frowned at the door. She'd had very little interaction with her castmates outside of the theater, and no one had actually come to her door before. "Come in," she called, rather suspiciously. The door creaked open, revealing Yuzuriha, smiling in a summer dress.

"Hey! Are you coming to that thing at Kanoe and Yuuto's?" Arashi's stomach twisted nervously.

"I'm not sure," she replied, to be polite. She knew she didn't want to go the moment Kanoe announced that she was hosting "just a little welcome get together Sunday evening" after their second day of rehearsal. It had immediately put her in mind of parties she'd been dressed up for and dragged to as a young girl with dire consequences if she refused. Not to mention that she found Kanoe tiring and Yuuto tedious and didn't care much for cast camaraderie anyway.

"You totally don't have to come if you don't want to," Yuzuriha said, bracingly, and Arashi couldn't tell if she was being talked down to or not. "But it'd be nice to chill outside of work, and even if parties aren't your scene, it's free food and booze, you know?" Arashi stared into her eager face, but said nothing. All of her castmates were always polite to her, but Yuzuriha went out of her way to smile, pay her a compliment or invite her to hang out. She seemed so genuine, and if Arashi were honest there was some deep part of her that wanted her to be, but she'd learned early on not to trust such things. "Well, I gotta go finish getting ready, but if you wanna ride with us, just-"

"I'm not-" Arashi interrupted, but then fell silent. Yuzuriha's eyes widened hopefully, and though Arashi had fully intended to say no… "When are you guys leaving?" She went pink and her stomach writhed with anxiety.

"In a half hour," Yuzuriha replied, cautiously optimistic. Arashi's blush deepened, but she nodded resignedly.

"I'll go."

"Really?" She nodded again and a broad grin spread across Yuzuriha's face. "Awesome!" Arashi had no idea what to say to that. "I'll let you get ready," Yuzuriha said, backing out of the room and shutting the door quietly behind her.

Arashi covered her eyes with one hand and clutched her script to her chest with the other. She took a few steadying breaths, feeling like she'd made the right and wrong choice at the same time.

She'd been raised by a rich, older aunt who always told her, "You shouldn't isolate yourself so much, Arashi," echoing the opinions of her teachers at the all girls private school she attended. "A commitment to a diverse and welcoming community" was part of their mission statement, but "You girls are all friends. Act like it." was the MO in practice. Whenever Arashi tried to point out the hypocrisy, or at least explain that the other girls only treated her with contempt and confusion, her aunt would snap back, "What on Earth are you talking about? That's ridiculous." Or else say it was probably her fault.

Arashi stood up, forcing the memories away and throwing her script onto her bed. She crossed the room and slid open her tiny closet door, biting her lip as she tried to decide what to wear. She thought suddenly of Maudie, talking so contemptuously about how Natalie dressed.

"Arashi, you'd do better to wear more color, you fade into the background enough as it is."

Arashi pressed her lips tightly together and selected a black dress she was pretty sure had been designed to wear to an office rather than a party. She began to get dressed, feeling simultaneously defiant and disgusted.

"You look nice!" Hokuto exclaimed as Karen entered their dorm's kitchen, looking glamorous in a flattering cocktail dress.

"Thank you!" she replied, smiling warmly as she set her purse on the counter. "So do you, but that's nothing new." Hokuto replied with a gracious smile.

"Where are the other two?" Satsuki asked, entering the room through the porch door and tucking the keys to her bike lock into the pocket of her dress pants. She'd accepted Hokuto's offer to share a cab so she'd only have to bike here from her apartment in a complex on the outskirts of Clow rather than all the way to Yuuto and Kanoe's. It would also give her an excuse to spend the night there. If they asked. "We should leave soon. We can't keep Her Ladyship waiting," she continued, taking pleasure in her bitter tone. Hokuto snorted with laughter while Karen just raised her eyebrows. "Kanoe does this every summer," Satsuki explained. "Then wants to act like she's doing us a favor when it's really a massive fucking chore for everyone."

"What, throwing parties?" Karen asked, not understanding. Hokuto and Satsuki exchanged a look.

"Pretending to be Setsuka," Hokuto said. "Apparently she used to do stuff like this all the time."

"Did you actually get to meet Setsuka?" Karen asked, her eyes widening, though the second she said it she knew both of them were way too young.

"Oh god no," Hokuto replied, regretfully, shaking her head. "We've seen her work, though, obviously, video cameras exist for a reason, but I'd have killed to see her live."

"I wish you had, film never does her justice," Karen replied, sincerely. It was upwards of twenty years ago, but she could still remember her first time ever seeing Setsuka perform. Indeed, it was her first time in a theater. Her sixth grade history class had been learning about Joan of Arc, and her enterprising teacher had taken them to see St. Joan at some theater west of Times Square on a pay what you can night. The seats had been far in the back, but she was still struck by Setsuka's power and total command of the stage in the titular role.

However, what had really stuck with her was that Setsuka's power didn't come from intimidation, raised voices or violence, which was all Karen had known from her parents and their circles. Instead, Setsuka had been kind, compassionate and courageous, and Karen had instantly become infatuated, wanting to be like Joan and the woman who played her.

She'd taken the show's little glossy program home and kept it hidden in her bedside table drawer, reading and rereading Setsuka's biography and staring at her headshot whenever she felt especially depleted. Then, when she was old enough for after school jobs, she saved all her wages for more pay what you can nights in the theater district and began performing in her high school's drama club.

"There you are!" Hokuto exclaimed, startling Karen out of her memories. Subaru and Kakyo entered the kitchen, looking cleaned up and very handsome for it.

"Sorry," Subaru said.

"You took this much time to get ready and your collar's still crooked?" Hokuto demanded, rushing to fix it. Subaru rolled his eyes, but let her do it. She then turned to Kakyo, who blushed, but to his relief she smiled. Subaru had let him borrow one of his dress shirts because he hadn't packed any nice clothes, and he felt rather awkward. "That color looks nice on you," she said, approvingly, and it was true: the shade of blue brought a glow to his face even when he wasn't blushing, though that could also have been from the voice lessons he'd been taking.

"Are you all finally ready?" Satsuki asked, impatiently. Hokuto rolled her eyes at Kakyo behind Satsuki's back and ordered a car from her phone.

"Yup! Let's be out!"

Kanoe checked the time on her phone for the fifth time in a minute before setting it on the table to adjust a plate of hors d'oeuvres. "Relax," Yuuto said, wrapping his arms around her waist and kissing her on the cheek. "You know nobody's getting here on time." Kanoe snorted, though she had to admit he was right. They were standing on their brick and stone back porch, decked out for their little party with food and drinks and fairy lights. Jazz music played softly from small speakers in every corner. "This looks great," he continued, admiringly, and again he was right. She was good at hosting parties, and always gave them her all, even small cast bonding affairs like this where no one really important was going to show up. "Are we pretending you cooked all of this?" Yuuto asked, and though his tone was playful it was a necessary question.

"No, Duklyon catered it," Kanoe replied, with dignity, referring to the best restaurant in town. "They can know where it came from." Yuuto kissed her on the cheek again.

"I'm glad the weather picked up," he said, looking out over the cloudless, gilded evening and the deep green valley below. Their house was nestled into the lush hillside just off Route 7, smaller than their neighbors' but no less grand and with the same spectacular view.

"We should light candles to keep bugs away," Kanoe said, thoughtfully.

"There won't be bugs, it's not warm enough," Yuuto replied, nosing against her neck.

"Still." Kanoe wriggled out of his embrace and walked back inside the house. The candles were in a grocery bag perched on one of the newly renovated kitchen countertops, all of which were made of black soapstone. She and Yuuto had argued over them when they'd had their kitchen renovated at the end of last summer's season, but in the end she'd overridden his preference for marble. It was the last fight they'd had, if you could even call it that, and it had happened nearly a year ago.

The doorbell rang, and she snatched up the candles and matches and hurried back to the porch, passing Yuuto heading to the front door. As Kanoe set the candles about and lit them, she heard loud excited voices and laughter echo from the hallway. The smell of citronella rose up around her, adding to the scents of flowers, freshly mown grass and cool evening air. "Hey," came Satsuki's voice from the doorway. Kanoe straightened up and smiled widely at her.

"It's been forever!" She cried, sarcastically. Satsuki rolled her eyes, already impatient with Kanoe's histrionics. "Do you want a drink?"

"Yes."

"Yuuto got that nice scotch again," Kanoe said in a tone that suggested she was testing waters. Satsuki's face remained impassive, but she didn't miss the implication.

"I'll take a glass on the rocks."

"Certainly." Kanoe fixed her the drink as Yuuto emerged onto the back porch with Subaru, Hokuto, Kakyo and Karen in tow. He paused in the story he was telling them when he spotted the bottle of scotch in Kanoe's hand. He felt a ripple of excitement and caught Satsuki's eye. She tilted her head to the side and sipped her drink.

'Seriously?' he thought, but then shook himself. "So yeah," he said out loud. "There's food and drinks, relax and make yourselves comfortable."

A short time later, a second cab pulled up into Yuuto and Kanoe's driveway, and from the backseat Kamui narrowed his eyes at the house. Like all the houses he'd seen up here, it had an air of grandeur about it that was entirely different from what he was used to growing up in New York City, though he expected the owners were still similar. Beside him, Keiichi was talking fluently to Sorata, who laughed whenever he managed to get a word in, while Yuzuriha was giggling next to a silent Arashi in the row in front of them. The car stopped, and the five of them got out with thanks and approached the front door. Just then, Kusanagi's truck pulled up into the driveway, and they paused to wait for him.

"I had some last minute work stuff to take care of, I thought I'd be the last person here!" he called, jumping down from the truck and coming to join them. Kamui saw Yuzuriha smile.

"Nah, we can all be fashionably late!" Keiichi assured him as they approached the house. Kusanagi laughed and rapped smartly on the door, which opened almost immediately, revealing Yuuto with a drink in his hand.

"There's the rest of the cast!" he cried, stepping graciously to the side to let them in. Kamui's eyes narrowed curiously as he took in the ornate hallway, sweeping staircase and living room and kitchen visible through open doorways. Both of his mothers loved interiors, and he imagined Tohru, who he always called Mom, commenting on how the wall color wasn't period correct while Saya, who he always called Ama, would remind her it still looked nice.

"Your house is beautiful!" Yuzuriha exclaimed, also looking around with great interest. Arashi, standing just behind her, nodded stiffly but politely. The house reminded her forcibly of her aunt's house, and it both intimidated and comforted her.

"Thank you very much," Yuuto said, smiling widely. "Everyone else is out back, if you wanna follow me."

"How are the countertops holding up?" Kusanagi asked, clapping Yuuto on the shoulder.

"Fucking fantasticly, soapstone was a way better call," Yuuto replied, toasting him. Kusanagi laughed, squeezed his shoulder and headed out back. He could tell Yuuto was already drunk.

"Countertops?" Keiichi asked, catching up to Kusanagi, who looked at him curiously.

"I renovated their kitchen last year," he explained. Keiichi's eyes widened.

"Really? You know how to do all that stuff? Wait, no, that actually makes total sense, you build all our sets, but-"

"I'm also a contractor," Kusanagi interrupted, kindly. "I own a company and we do construction here year round, but mostly in the off season."

"That's so cool!" Keiichi cried as they emerged onto the back porch. They exchanged waves and smiles with everyone, though remained by the door while Kamui, Sorata, Yuzuriha and Arashi joined the party.

"Is it?" Kusanagi asked, bemusedly, though he appreciated the interest.

"Yeah!" Keiichi replied, eagerly. "You know my dad said, before he died, that if he hadn't become an actor he would have done construction. He worked jobs like that to support himself all through drama school and he loved it."

"Your dad was an actor too?" Kusanagi asked, intrigued. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Yuzuriha lead Arashi to the drinks table and fix her something.

"Yup!" Keiichi said, proudly. "He's part of the reason I was so happy to get cast in this show! His best friend in drama school played Solyony when they did Three Sisters and he'd always talk about how he'd say the 'if that baby were mine' line, so I'm pretty honored to play him, even under a different name." His chest swelled proudly. "It's like I'm doing it for all three of us, you know what I mean?" He looked up at Kusanagi, but then seemed to catch himself. "I'm sorry, I'm saying too much again, aren't I?" he asked, blushing.

"It's all right," Kusanagi said, calmly reassuring. "I think that's fucking wonderful." He meant it, and he clapped Keiichi on the shoulder too.

"Really?"

"Absolutely." Keiichi gave him a glowing smile. "You want a drink? Come on." He led Keiichi over to the drinks table. Yuzuriha turned, her face slightly pink in the setting sun.

"Hello!" she said, pleasantly, smiling at Kusanagi. Keiichi caught Arashi's eye, and with a massive effort she smiled back at him.

Across the room, Yuuto was hurriedly filling Sorata's glass. "Thanks," said Sorata, toasting him, though his eyes were fixed upon Arashi. Yuuto followed his gaze and raised an eyebrow knowingly. "How long have you and Kanoe been together?" Sorata asked, both to deflect and because he was genuinely curious.

"Ten years," Yuuto replied, his smile widening.

"Whoa, seriously?" Sorata asked, astonished and impressed.

"Seriously," Yuuto replied, his eyes finding Kanoe in the opposite corner of the porch where she was chatting to Karen and Satsuki. Feeling suddenly hot around the collar, he continued, "We met here. Kanoe had just finished her four years at the Training Institute, and I got a gig here doing The Birthday Party-"

"Pinter?" Sorata asked.

"Yes! While she was doing, oh shit what was it…"

"The Memory of Water!" Kanoe called across the room, and Yuuto toasted her before turning back to Sorata.

"The Memory of Water, and it was pretty much love at first sight. Well," he amended, slyly, "lust at first sight."

"Right," Sorata replied, taking an awkward sip of his drink.

"Ten years ago," Kanoe echoed to Karen and Satsuki, throwing out her chest. Satsuki's throat tightened unpleasantly as though she had gagged and she hid her look of disgust in a sip of whiskey.

"That's wonderful," Karen said, Satsuki's contempt giving her the strength to smile.

"It is," Kanoe agreed. Then, as though a thought had suddenly occurred to her, "are you seeing anyone?"

"Oh no," Karen replied at once, shaking her head. Kanoe frowned sympathetically and Karen couldn't help but feel condescended to. "I work so much at the moment, I hardly have time," she explained, breezily, reminding herself that even if Kanoe was talking down to her, that was her choice and her issue. "If I get desperate I've got people I can call though. You know how that goes, I'm sure." Satsuki gave an appreciative snort of laughter and Kanoe's interest sharpened perceptibly.

"I see," she said, tilting her head to the side. "What-" However, at that moment the doorbell rang. "Sorry," she told Karen and Satsuki hurriedly, before calling, "I'll get it!" to Yuuto and hurrying back into the house. Karen looked at Satsuki, hoping for clarification, but she just turned and stalked away.

Feeling confused and rather worried all of a sudden, Karen swallowed more of her drink and joined the nearest conversation: Kamui, Subaru, Hokuto and Kakyo. Subaru and Kamui were totally absorbed in each other, smiling back and forth, easy and excited. Hokuto watched them for a moment before smiling warmly at Karen, who opened her mouth to speak, but then Kanoe returned with Mr. Aoki and an attractive woman who must be his wife.

"Hello!" he called, and was immediately swarmed by Yuuto pressing drinks on the two of them and dragging them a little ways away. Sorata, who had been talking to Yuuto, raised his eyebrows at the abrupt dismissal, while Satsuki clenched her jaw and narrowed her eyes from a distance.

"This is good," said Fuuma, raising his glass of red wine to eye level and giving it a look of surprised satisfaction. He took another sip, then set it down on the little counter at the edge of the grill. The soft chink of glass on wood was masked by the sizzling of the steaks he was minding, the gentle whir of the porch's ceiling fan and the humming of insects.

"It'll taste better once you let it breathe," replied Seishiro, reclining on one of the outdoor couches with his own glass. Fuuma smirked. The resentment in Seishiro's voice was hardly more detectable than the notes of currant in their wine, but Fuuma, like a sommelier, picked it up instantly; he also resented the meat grilling and wine pairing skills he'd inherited from his upbringing (he could still see clearly his father standing beside his grill like he was on the cover of some upscale house and garden magazine). However, Fuuma still found it immensely satisfying to play house with Seishiro, though he wondered if he resented that, too.

"I figure you don't wanna get dinner in town," Fuuma had said, as they'd cleaned up and gotten dressed.

"Not especially," Seishiro replied.

"I'll cook us something," Fuuma told him, kissing him on the lips. Seishiro just nodded and buttoned his lighter, rather less expensive, shirt.

Fuuma had driven to the nearest grocery store a little ways down Route 7, then returned to start cooking while Seishiro had uncorked the wine he'd brought from the city. It was late in the evening now, the sky a soft orange behind the trees surrounding the house before fading to a deep, starry purple overhead. The light bulbs in the ceiling fan turned on, and Seishiro looked up in surprise.

"I thought the timer was fucked up?"

"I fixed it," Fuuma said. "There's holes in your screens too. I'll change them when I have time." He heard the plasicky squeaking of Seishiro shifting against the couch and smiled as he flipped the steaks and took another sip of wine. "Seriously, this is really good."

"I'm glad I brought it, considering you don't have any alcohol in the house," Seishiro replied. Fuuma could tell just from his tone that his lip was curling, though his antagonism was significantly quieter.

"I've been busting my ass all week, the fuck you think this is?" Fuuma asked. Seishiro let out a short, sharp laugh, but then just watched Fuuma in silence until, "These are about done." Seishiro heaved himself off the couch and went back into the kitchen to dish up sides, then returned with the two plates and the wine bottle. "Thank you," said Fuuma, kissing him on the lips before adding a steak to each plate. "They've gotta rest a second." Seishiro nodded and carried them over to the glass topped table in the opposite corner. He set the plates and bottle down, then lit the dusty citronella candle in the center. "So romantic," Fuuma said, appreciatively, approaching with both of their wine glasses. Seishiro gave him a sarcastic smile, and they sat down and began to eat.

It was pleasant and peaceful. A light breeze whispered in the trees outside and rustled the screens. Fuuma cast occasional glances at Seishiro, but said nothing. He knew he'd start talking eventually, he just had to wait for it. That had been his MO since the night they'd met and, sure enough, after a few more minutes, Seishiro took a deep swig of wine and looked Fuuma in the face. "So, should I ask about the show now?" Fuuma laughed and refilled both of their glasses.

"Now we're both wined and dined?" he countered, playfully. "Sure." Seishiro actually smiled. "It's been going pretty good so far. We've got it basically staged, so Kusanagi's gonna start building the set this week."

"You know what you want?"

"I always know what I want," Fuuma reminded him, and he rolled his eyes. "Kusanagi's already pissed at me, but like, what else is new?" Seishiro tilted his head to the side and took another sip of wine. "Just wait till tech," Fuuma continued, his lip curling for a moment, but then he laughed. "We've got a good crew this year though. I'm pleased. Oh, I dunno if anyone told you-"

"No one's told me anything," Seishiro interrupted. "That's part of the reason I came up here." They stared at each other for a moment.

"Sorry," Fuuma said, hanging his head, though he kept his eyes locked on Seishiro's. Another moment's silence passed.

"You don't know if anyone told me what?" Seishiro prompted, and Fuuma just went with him.

"Our Transeau dropped out, but we got another one." Seishiro raised his eyebrows.

"Who?"

"Someone who came up here with Hokuto, I think he's another one of her projects." Seishiro sighed heavily, but nodded.

"I'm assuming he's good."

"Obviously he's good!" Fuuma replied, pressing his hand to his chest in mock offence. "This isn't last year, what the fuck."

"Last year was good," replied Seishiro, coolly.

"Yeah that one performance you saw was awesome, right?" Fuuma shot back. Seishiro looked taken aback, but Fuuma continued in a normal tone. "Why didn't you tell me Hokuto's brother was so fucking good, by the way? I'd have auditioned him for something years ago." Seishiro's eyes narrowed almost imperceptibly.

"I've never met him," he replied in the same cool tone.

"He's very good," Fuuma said, fairly. Seishiro said nothing. "I'm not trying to fuck him, relax," Fuuma continued, impatiently. "Especially since he's got my Andrew on his dick already." This statement melted the frostiness between them and Seishiro replied with a disgusted noise and drank more wine. "I dunno how far anyone's gotten with each other yet," Fuuma continued, smirking. "But I keep waiting for Kanoe and Yuuto to proposition me again. Not that I'd go through with it, but." Seishiro rolled his eyes and took another sip of wine, and Fuuma placed his hand on his other wrist. Seishiro looked between Fuuma's hand and his face, his expression simultaneously wanting and intimidating. Fuuma's chest squeezed gently around his heart. "Hey."

"What?"

"You wanna hear that story again?" Fuuma asked, grinning. Seishiro grimaced and tried to pull his wrist out of Fuuma's grip.

"No I don't."

"You sure? It's still funny, I swear to god!"

"It was never funny."

"It was hilarious!"

"Uh…"

"Kakyo?" Karen asked, once the hubbub caused by the Aokis' arrival had abated.

"Yes?" he asked, rather fearfully. Karen smiled encouragingly.

"What do you do, if you aren't an actor?" He flushed and took a sip of his drink.

"Um, nothing, really," he replied. He expected Karen to try and contradict him, but,

"That's all right, I was just curious." She hesitated. "For what it's worth, I didn't go to drama school or anything either." Kakyo's eyes widened.

"Really? But you're so talented…"

"Thank you," she said, flushing a little herself. "But I'm mostly lucky, I think." Kakyo's eyes darted to Hokuto for a moment before he actually smiled at Karen, the most genuine smile she'd seen on his face so far, on stage or off.

"I get that," he replied. For a moment, Karen considered telling him more, but then changed her mind. She wasn't one to wave her story around as inspiring. Instead, she brought up Irene and Transeau.

Seeing Kakyo safely absorbed in a conversation, Hokuto stepped back slightly and joined Subaru and Kamui.

"Fuck, that sounds amazing!" Kamui exclaimed.

"It is!" laughed Subaru. "You've never been there before? Really?" Kamui shook his head. "I'll take you there once we're back in the city." He blushed and Kamui's expression lit up over the rim of his drink. Subaru would have said more, but he knew Hokuto was watching him now she'd finally given Kakyo space. He sort of hoped she'd leave them be, but,

"Take him where?"

"That soba place on Kenmare," Subaru replied, still focused on Kamui.

"So romantic," she teased. "I'm gonna get another drink, do either of you want anything?"

"Yes please," Subaru told her, pointedly, then looked at Kamui.

"Uh, yeah that'd be great," he said, rather awkwardly. "Thank you." Hokuto smirked and headed back over to the drinks table.

"Sorry," Subaru told Kamui, under his breath.

"It's okay," Kamui assured him, shaking his head. "Your sister's cool as fuck, I don't care." Subaru laughed, though he did appreciate it. "I feel like I should have met you before," he continued, then, realizing how weird that sounded, "it just seems like we know a lot of the same people." Subaru nodded.

"I guess it just took moving a few million of them out of the way?"

"Yeah!" Kamui replied, grinning.

"Hi, Hokuto!" Keiichi called, smiling widely at her from his conversation with Arashi, Yuzuriha and Kusanagi by the drinks table. She smiled back at the four of them. She'd known Kusanagi since her first season here, Yuzuriha from her summer intensives at BTI and Keiichi from his talking to her whenever they came across each other. Arashi, however, was still something of a mystery.

"I love your dress," Hokuto told her.

"Oh," she replied, unsure if she was being baited or not. Hokuto's ease and extroversion were usually overwhelming and intimidating, but she felt braver for all the drinks Yuzuriha had made her. "Thank you. Um, you don't think it's too plain?" she asked, almost defiantly. She blushed, but Hokuto looked totally unabashed.

"Not at all! It's simple, not plain, and it looks really nice on you." Hokuto didn't think Arashi was the type to fish for compliments, and was instantly curious where the question had come from. However, before she could say anything else,

"Thank you," Arashi replied. Her stomach was squeezing, but at least she managed to smile.

"And what do you think of my outfit, Hokuto?" Keiichi cut in, and she and Arashi laughed.

"You look gorgeous, Keiichi!" Hokuto replied, and he closed his eyes and held his hand to his chest in dramatic relief. Hokuto giggled. "Anyway, sorry to intrude!"

"No way, I was the one who called you over!" Keiichi reminded her, waving the words aside.

"True," Hokuto replied. "I was just getting my brother and Kamui more drinks." However, when she nodded over her shoulder, she found them gone. "Are you kidding me?!" she demanded, half annoyed, half impressed.

"Curved," muttered Keiichi, and everyone snorted into their drinks.

"Water signs," Hokuto sighed.

Across the room, Yuuto told Kanoe, "I'm gonna go get more liquor out of the cabinet, I'll be right back." He kissed her on the cheek and went back inside the house, Satsuki following him at a distance like a stalking predator. Sorata, who had been waiting to speak to Mr. and Mrs. Aoki since they'd arrived, seized his chance and engaged them both in conversation. Kanoe, rather than be ousted or annoyed, slid over to Karen and Kakyo.

"Hey," Hokuto hissed to Kusanagi, taking him by the arm and nodding at Karen and Kanoe.

"That's their business," he told her out of the corner of his mouth, but Hokuto was already halfway across the room. Kusanagi shook his head and turned back to Yuzuriha, Keiichi and Arashi.

"Everything okay?" Yuzuriha asked, cautiously.

"Here's hoping," Kusangi replied, smiling at her. She blushed, but nodded, and Kusanagi changed the subject.

"Your daughter's not here?" Sorata asked Mrs. Aoki.

"Oh no, she'd be bored stiff, are you kidding?" she laughed.

"Yeah… I used to get myself into trouble at parties like this all the time as a kid," Sorata replied, very seriously.

"Has anything changed?" Mr. Aoki asked, adjusting his glasses.

"Uh," Sorata mumbled, rubbing the back of his head, though he wasn't embarrassed at all. "I guess it's different kinds of trouble?" They both laughed. "Are you a writer too?" Sorata asked Mrs. Aoki.

"I write computer code, if that counts," she replied.

"That's dope!" Sorata exclaimed, very impressed, but she just waved the words aside.

"What you guys do is impressive," she corrected him. "And it all seems to come so naturally, it's amazing!" Sorata shrugged, trying not to feel too pleased with himself, but, "Artists," she muttered, though she was smiling affectionately.

"Sorry," Mr. Aoki told her. "Thank god I'm not married to another writer though; I'm fairly confident we'd kill each other."

"Or just crush each other under the weight of the shared existential dread and crippling self-doubt," his wife replied, very dryly. Sorata burst into laughter while Mr. Aoki snuck his arm around her waist and kissed her on the cheek.

"How long have you guys been together, if you don't mind me asking?" Sorata asked, when he'd collected himself. Mr. and Mrs. Aoki looked at each other.

"How long have we been together?" she asked, and Mr. Aoki thought for a moment, taking a sip of his drink.

"Together for eight years total, married for five?"

"Sounds right," she said. "You look surprised," she added to Sorata.

"Well, with all due respect I was expecting 'we met in high school' or something," he replied, and they burst into laughter.

"If only! God knows that would have saved me some trouble!" Mrs. Aoki said, but her husband looked horrified.

"You wouldn't have looked twice at me in high school, I was such a loser," he tried to assure her, but she rolled her eyes at Sorata, who laughed, but pressed on.

"I'm not trying to be presumptuous, but like, how do you write all the dysfunctional relationships in this play so spot on? You guys seem so…" But he broke off, hoping he hadn't said something inappropriate or awkward. Mr. Aoki, however, looked thoughtful as he took another sip of his drink.

"Well, I can't really take any credit, Chekhov wrote it, I just played with it," he explained. "I'm not trying to be self-effacing," he added at once, seeing the look on Sorata's face.

"Artists," his wife said again in a stage whisper.

"No, but really, it was all set up for me, so I didn't have much work to do. Besides, it's a play; most of the work is going to come from you guys anyway." Sorata didn't feel remotely comforted by this, and it must have shown on his face because, "Why, is Colonel Young giving you trouble?" Mr. Aoki asked, leaning forward slightly. Sorata thought for a moment.

"Not trouble so much, just," he paused and his eyes darted to Arashi, silently watching Yuzuriha and Keiichi's conversation. Mr. Aoki followed Sorata's gaze, then gave the tiniest of nods.

"Just keep going," he advised, kindly. "It's barely been a week, there's still time for you to figure things out." Sorata nodded. "And don't think too much. The second you try to get intellectual about any of this you're in trouble, particularly," the corner of his mouth twitched, "if you're talking about relationships." Sorata laughed in spite of himself and rubbed the back of his head again.

"Fuuma always says that, but like, way less elegantly," he replied, the tension inside himn easing very slightly.

"Speaking of, where is he?" Mrs. Aoki asked. "Nataku, too, I was hoping to meet them." Sorata and Mr. Aoki just shrugged at each other.

"Come here," said Fuuma, flopping onto an outdoor sofa and patting the plasticky cushion beside him. Seishiro swallowed the last of his wine, then obeyed, and Fuuma put his arm around him. It was completely dark now. The only light came from the sputtering citronella candle and the dim bulbs in the ceiling fan. A soft breeze blew through the screens, making them rattle and shake in their frames. "I wonder if Nataku went to that party," Fuuma reflected, before immediately answering himself. "Probably not." Nataku was always fine by himself when they were working, but at the parties and other social events that came with their job, he'd get even quieter than usual and stick close to Fuuma, always assuring him, "I'm your PA, it's just in case you need me." Fuuma just let him do it; there was no point making him anxious for no good reason.

"Probably not," Fuuma said again. Seishiro scoffed and leaned his head against Fuuma's shoulder. "I wonder if Mr. Aoki's there," he continued. "He might have his wife and kid with him." Seishiro shifted against him. "Probably not," he said, yet again. "I bet his wife is there, but he doesn't strike me as the type to drag his kid around to shit like that unless he really has to." Seishiro shifted against him again, but remained quiet. Fuuma knew he was pushing buttons, but he also knew that Seishiro wouldn't actually say anything. He was quiet and insular all the time, but even more so when drunk. The only times Fuuma had ever seen him be really open and forthcoming were when he was coming down from their play, when the physical intensity led to emotional release and made his walls permeable.

"My mother would parade me around and force me to talk to people, and everyone always knew who I was and I'm just there like, 'who the fuck are you and why the fuck are you talking to me?' Meanwhile she was sleeping with half of them, and just…"

Fuuma always let him talk. He never demanded, or even expected, that Seishiro tell him anything. He never expected that from anyone, though most people were disconcertingly happy to spill their guts to him. However, he'd be lying if he said he didn't prize Seishiro's words, his stories, his honesty. He was confident he was one of very few people to hear them, and he loved it, particularly when most of the time Seishiro only ever talked around things, like a dart hitting the board just outside of the bulls eye. Off, but no less sharp.

"Hey," Fuums said, softly.

"What?" Seishiro asked, looking up at him blearily. Fuuma's heart squeezed in his chest.

"I'm glad you're here." He kissed Seishiro on the lips.

Yuuto closed and locked the glass fronted liquor cabinet in his dining room, a feeling of great, and tipsy, contentment upon him. He hummed softly to himself, then turned, swinging his bottle, to find Satsuki standing framed in the doorway to the hall. "Oh, hey," he said, rather stupidly, his arm falling limply to his side.

"I'd like more of that scotch," Satsuki told him, holding up her empty glass. Yuuto's mouth went dry.

"I think you drank the last of it," he replied, regretfully. Satsuki's eyes narrowed behind her glasses and she took a few steps towards him, the sound echoing in the emptiness. Yuuto's eyes travelled up and down her body a few times before fixing upon her breasts, cupped in her button down shirt.

"Let me talk to Kanoe, we can make plans," he offered, his heart speeding up. Satsuki's jaw clenched and she came even closer, getting right up in his space.

"But I'm here now," she reminded him, her voice lowering.

"Kanoe's not," Yuuto replied.

"So?"

"So, that's not-" The front door suddenly opened, making Satsuki and Yuuto jump. They hurriedly stepped away from each other and looked around to see Subaru and Kamui walking down the hall to rejoin the party, bringing with them a strong smell of cigarettes.

"For fuck's sake," Satsuki said, impatiently. She tried to move closer to Yuuto again, but he crossed his arms in front of his chest, still holding the bottle of liquor.

"Not without Kanoe," he told her, more firmly. "Come on, you know that's how we work." Satsuki tilted her head to the side.

"So you say," she said, delicately, and suddenly they were back to that weekend in April, when Satsuki was up here looking for a summer apartment. She'd stayed with Yuuto and Kanoe during her search, and one afternoon they'd been alone in the house together, and… Yuuto swallowed, realizing it was their first one on one conversation since then. He cleared his throat rather awkwardly, then pushed past her to rejoin the party.

Fuuma and Seishiro were still kissing, slowly and deeply and sensually. Warm and soft arousal, rather than the passionate pressure of earlier, simmered in Fuuma's chest, belly and erection. He allowed himself to melt into it, open and receptive to Seishiro, who was utterly pliable in his arms. He ran his fingers through Seishiro's hair, along his shoulders, down his chest, up his thighs. Seishiro took a sharp breath in through his nose and Fuuma moaned softly as he eased him back into the couch to kiss him deeper.

His cellphone rang, loud and jarring, from across the room. Fuuma and Seishiro broke apart and looked towards the source of the noise, but made no effort to answer it. The second it stopped, they were back to it, their kiss heating up. However, before they could do much else, Fuuma's phone rang again. With a deeply irritated groan, Fuuma got up to answer it, adjusting his erection to a more comfortable position in his jeans.

"Hello?" Fuuma snapped, without bothering to check who was calling.

"Fuuma!" He closed his eyes.

"The fuck do you want, Kanoe?" Seishiro leaned his head back over the edge of the couch, his neck extending invitingly.

"Are we seeing you tonight?!"

"No," Fuuma replied, bluntly. "You guys enjoy yourselves though, all right?" He hung up before she could say anything else and threw himself back down onto the couch. "Sorry," he told Seishiro, sliding his arm around him. Seishiro said nothing, just kissed Fuuma on the lips.

The heat between them simmered and sparked as Fuuma brought his hand back to Seishiro's thigh and squeezed it. "Can I suck you off now?" Fuuma breathed, between kisses. Seishiro gasped, and Fuuma caught his bottom lip between his teeth and sucked it. Seishiro let out the softest of throaty moans and clung tighter to Fuuma. "You got what you came up here for, right?" he whispered, letting go of his lip. "Let me give you a little more…"

"Fuuma's an asshole!" Kanoe cried, tragically, throwing herself into Yuuto's arms.

"Why? What'd he do this time?" Yuuto asked, sympathetically, uncomfortably aware of Satsuki staring at him as he held Kanoe steady.

"He's not coming," she whined.

"I'm sorry…"

Satsuki made a disgusted noise and poured herself another drink. Her desire to spend the night had long since evaporated.

Subaru and Kamui exchanged a look and a laugh, sequestered in a corner away from everyone else. In the opposite corner, Kakyo watched Yuuto and Kanoe, then looked to Hokuto for an explanation.

"Don't worry about it," she told him, shaking her head, then after a moment, "this isn't so bad though, right?" she asked, smiling at him rather proudly.

"Not at all," Kakyo replied, smiling back at her. "Thank you for bringing me here, seriously."

"Thank you for coming here with me!" Kakyo's heart squeezed in his chest.

At the drinks table, Yuzuriha, Kusanagi, Sorata and Arashi were momentarily distracted from their exchange by Yuuto and Kanoe.

"Kusanagi?" Yuzuriha asked, quietly, under the cover of the commotion.

"Mm?" She opened her mouth, but then either lost her nerve or thought better of it. "Nothing, never mind."

"You sure?" he asked, his eyes widening.

"Mmhmm!"

"Okay," he replied, reassuringly.

Arashi watched Yuuto and Kanoe in silence, the alcohol transforming her usual feelings of mistrust and dislike into something wistful, something she hadn't allowed herself to feel in a long time. Sorata watched them in silence too, his arms folded across his chest. She caught his eye by accident, and he smiled warmly at her. The pain in her chest rose up into her throat. However, with a tremendous effort, she swallowed it and smiled back.

"You've got a good group of people here, Seiichiro," said Mrs. Aoki quietly, squeezing her husband's arm.

"I do, don't I?" he replied. "It feels weird saying that though, I'm not the director."

"It's your story we're bringing to life though," Keiichi reminded him. "And it's an honor!"

"It is," Karen agreed.

"It's weird to talk about it like that," he replied, rather embarrassedly, "because it's not really my story. That being said, it is a story and group of characters that I love, so it feels really special. Does that make sense?" He took a sip of his drink and hoped he didn't sound too awkward. However, his wife, Keiichi and Karen just smiled.

"Not at all!" Keiichi said, robustly.

Hours later, Fuuma left Seishiro spent and exhausted in bed and went down to the kitchen. The darkness and silence that filled the house echoed that in Fuuma's mind and body: still and easy and satisfied. He filled a glass with water from the sink, drained it and refilled it again, the cool tile under his feet and glass in his hand contrasting with the warmth of his body and in the air.

Smiling contentedly, Fuuma went back upstairs. As he padded down the hallway, a door to his right opened suddenly, creaking in the silence. Probably just the wind, though he shivered a little anyway. He found Seishiro already asleep, curled up on his side under the covers. Fuuma couldn't help but smile: it was the most at peace he ever saw him.

He set his glass on the bedside table, climbed into bed and shut off the light. He wrapped himself around Seishiro, closed his eyes and breathed deeply against his neck, smelling his skin and his hair. Fuuma's restlessness calmed much faster than usual, and he fell asleep almost at once, the darkness and silence curling up around them.

Chapter Text

"I like it," said Fuuma, standing center stage with his arms folded across his chest. He was like a miniature sun radiating satisfaction while Nataku, Kusanagi and Satsuki orbited him like satellites in the forming universe of their set. Upstage, unpainted wooden wings had been erected in front of the white sheet acting in place of Fuuma's screen. Nataku had procured a couch, armchair and end table, which they'd set up stage right, and a dining table and chairs stage left.

"Good," Kusanagi said, grudgingly, while Satsuki rolled her eyes. Fuuma didn't blame them for being less than enthusiastic. None of their light and set meetings in the week since Kanoe's party had gone well.

"Fuuma, what the fuck are you talking about?" Satsuki had asked at the first one, losing patience by the second.

"I want the outside light coming in from upstage," Fuuma explained, gesturing. "So when it's a day scene it looks like daylight, when it's night it's dark and when the entire town is on fire it looks red or whatever." He'd explained this already, but Satsuki just sighed.

"Okay do you want a scrim? Like fabric we can just project the color onto?"

"No," Fuuma said, forcefully. "I want that to be the light source, so it looks like the outside light coming in."

"Oh," Satsuki said. "That makes way more sense, why- never mind." She shook her head and scribbled something in her notebook.

"What?" Fuuma asked, smirking.

"Do you actually want it to look like the sky, or?" Satsuki asked next, nipping his instigation in the bud. Fuuma's smirk widened.

"No, we both know that'd look fucking stupid."

"Obviously, I'm just making sure," Satsuki replied, trying and failing not to sound sarcastic.

"And you want me to build window frames… In front of the screen?" Kusanagi asked, politely incredulous. Fuuma faced him, still smirking.

"Yeah."

"I mean I can, absolutely," Kusanagi said, still politely, "but that's also gonna look fucking stupid." Satsuki snorted, but Fuuma pressed on, unembarrassed and undeterred.

"So make it look good." Kusanagi took a deep breath in through his nose and sighed it out.

"What about for Act Four?" he asked. Fuuma had to think for a moment before he remembered it took place in the Perspicuo's back garden.

"I dunno, make it a fence or something, you know it doesn't have to be literal."

"You keep telling me contradicting things, but I will do my best," Kusanagi said, still doing his utmost to be polite.

"I know you will," replied Fuuma, breezily. "The only reason I can be vague as shit is because you guys are actually talented." Kusanagi and Satsuki exchanged exasperated looks. "Speaking of, I gotta text Hokuto too, fuck…"

"Oh shit this looks dope!" Kamui exclaimed from the theater entrance. Everyone looked around to find him, Sorata, Arashi, Yuzuriha and Kanoe arriving for their call, all dressed in exercise clothes.

"Hello," Fuuma said, pleasantly. "You guys like it so far?"

"It looks beautiful!" Yuzuriha cried, blushing as Kusanagi smiled at her.

"I think so too," Fuuma said, jumping down from the stage. "How was your class?"

"It was cool," Sorata said, rolling his shoulders. "I feel way more open, like I can breathe better or something." Kamui and Yuzuriha nodded in eager agreement.

"Doing the monologues was cool too," Kamui said, placing his bag on a front row seat and pressing the heels of his hands together, level with his chest, right fingertips facing in and left fingertips facing out. Immediately Sorata and Yuzuriha did the same, and all three of them twisted their chests to the right, then left, over and over, reciting,

"When that I was and a little tiny boy," they switched to moving on a diagonal as though paddling a kayak, "with the hey, ho, the wind and the rain," they moved across again, and Kanoe started snapping her fingers in time with the rhythm, "a foolish thing was but a toy," they switched back to diagonals for the last line, "for the rain it raineth every day." They stood straight, their hands in a prayer position. "For the rain, it raineth every day!" Everyone except Arashi, Nataku and Satsuki applauded them politely.

"Ha! That's great!" exclaimed Fuuma.

"It feels so surprisingly good," cried Yuzuriha, eagerly. "I feel more open, like Sorata said."

"I was hoping," said Fuuma, approvingly.

"That's Camellia's curriculum," said Satsuki, her eyes narrowing behind her glasses. "She wasn't teaching, was she?"

"No, unfortunately," sighed Kanoe, "but we did have this cute dancer from Soapland Arts, and he was great, so…" She stretched, looking very satisfied. Arashi, who was hanging back behind her, just shook her head, her long hair swaying around her. She'd always hated movement classes, from the ballet lessons she'd been forced to take as a little girl to all the techniques she'd had to learn in drama school, so she'd dreaded this morning the moment Fuuma had announced it. However, she didn't feel nearly as shell shocked as she might have done. The movements were soft and subtle and internal and left her feeling grounded rather than exposed, aware of all her muscles and bones and how they moved rather than just in indiscriminate pain.

"Well that's good at least," Satsuki replied, coldly. Kanoe either missed or ignored her tone and answered a text, probably to Yuuto. Though Satsuki knew he'd be taking class right now, so he wouldn't be able to reply-

"You two can leave if you want," Fuuma told Kusanagi and Satsuki over his shoulder, stopping her brain in its tracks. "I'll see you at… What time is everyone else's call?"

"Four," Kanoe supplied. Satsuki rolled her eyes.

"See you at four."

"I'll stay?" Nataku offered.

"It's up to you." Nataku tilted his head to the side, then hopped off the stage to sit down in the front row.

"You wanna get lunch?" Kusanagi asked Satsuki.

"You wanna get a drink?" she countered, irritably. Kusanagi laughed as they gathered their things and stepped down from the stage.

"Nah, but I've got weed if you want," he muttered to her as they passed Fuuma, who demanded,

"You gonna share?"

"No, but Kanoe's right here if you wanna do lines off her chest again," Satsuki hissed, before she could stop herself.

"Don't," warned Kusanagi, with a wary look at the rest of the cast. However,

"Please, we all know he'd much rather suck it straight off Seishiro's dick," Kanoe shot back, smirking.

"For goodness sake!" Kusanagi groaned, closing his eyes as though praying for patience while Satsuki just shrugged.

"Kanoe!" Fuuma called, putting an end to the back and forth.

"What?" she called back, innocently.

"Get your ass up here, please? We're taking it from the top of Act Two." Kanoe smiled sarcastically, dropped her bag into the nearest seat and climbed up on stage with her script in hand. "So I know it says Andrew wanders in," Fuuma said, narrowing his eyes at his own script. "But I wanna try it with you already here," he continued, addressing Kamui.

"On the couch, or?"

"Yeah. Everyone else, get where you're supposed to be." Kamui sat down on the couch while Yuzuriha and Kanoe took their places in the new wings, facing each other across the stage. Sorata and Arashi sat down in the audience with several seats between them. Fuuma jumped backwards off the stage and dropped into the seat beside Nataku. "All right, let me see it."

Kamui pretended to read a book as per the stage directions, his brow furrowed. Yuzuriha entered upstage left, looking about distractedly before spotting Kamui.

"Andrew?" Kamui looked up at her. "What are you doing, reading?"

"What's up?"

"I'm just," Yuzuriha started to say, but Fuuma interrupted.

"Sorry, I hate that. Andrew, ask what's up after she says your name." Kamui nodded and hurriedly made a note in his script. "Start again." Yuzuriha rushed back offstage, then reentered.

"Andrew?"

"What's up?"

"What are you doing, reading?" Yuzuriha looked to Fuuma, who nodded his approval of the change, then eyed Kamui across the stage. He looked a weird combination of challenging and apprehensive while she just seemed preoccupied.

"I'm just," she started to say, but paused, and Fuuma smiled as the silence screwed their tension a little tighter. "Never mind." Yuzuriha shook her head and continued with an air of distracted self-importance. "Now that that big parade is going on, everyone's gone crazy." She bustled around the stage, adjusting invisible pillows and knick knacks before finally arriving at where there'd be a lamp once they figured out tech. "I came through here around midnight last night and someone had left the lights on, I have no idea who, but…" She shook her head. "What time is it?" Kamui, who had been watching her warily, started when she finally addressed him.

"A quarter past eight," he said, after checking his phone.

"Jackson and Irene aren't back from work yet, it's terrible!" Yuzuriha exclaimed, as though she hadn't heard, smoothing the back of the old armchair. "Jackson's at a faculty meeting, Irene's at the office," she continued, sarcastically regretful. "You know-"

"Hold up," Fuuma interrupted, and Yuzuriha and Kamui looked sharply around. "Do you believe anything Natalie's saying?"

"I, what?" asked Yuzuriha.

"Do you believe what you just said? That it's terrible that Jackson and Irene are still at work?" Everyone's attention was now sharply focused on Yuzuriha, but she didn't back down or even blush.

"I mean… I believe that it's terrible, but," her tone became suddenly bitter, "I don't think Natalie does." Fuuma raised his eyebrows.

"No? How come?" Yuzuriha looked around at her castmates, and Kamui gave her an encouraging little nod.

"Natalie's too- " but she broke off, her expression hardening.

"Too what?" Fuuma pressed her.

"There's no nice way to say this," she began, hesitantly, but Fuuma laughed.

"You can be mean, it's okay." Yuzuriha laughed hollowly and ran her fingers through her hair.

"I think she's too self-absorbed to actually care. She's too focused on her house and her role and her children and her affair and her presentation, all the concern she puts on is for show. So no, I don't believe her," she concluded, with bitter dignity. Color had risen up in her cheeks and her breath had quickened as she'd spoken, just like in class that morning. Fuuma gave her a moment, then,

"And it shows," he told her, bluntly but not unkindly. Worry flickered in Yuzuriha's wide eyes. "So either play that up or try to find something in her you do believe, because right now there's nothing genuine coming across and I know you're better than that." Yuzuriha shuddered and looked at Kamui again as though hoping for confirmation. Kamui nodded again, hoping she didn't take it the wrong way.

"I," she started to say, whipping her gaze back to Fuuma. He waited, but she just shook her head. "Sorry, never mind."

"Are you sure?" he asked, but she didn't respond. "It's okay. Take a breath, then repeat the line a few times. Think of those monologues you did this morning." Yuzuriha took a deep breath in and gave her script a cajoling little shake on her exhale.

"Jackson and Irene aren't back from work yet," she said, determinedly. "Jackson and Irene aren't back from work yet. Jackson and Irene aren't back from work yet. Jackson and Irene aren't back from work yet." More color rose in her face with each repetition and she glared at her script as though demanding answers, though the words just swam on the page. She tried to find a rhythm, but it all just sounded choppy, but she had to find something! She didn't want to dislike Natalie, she wanted to understand her! "Jackson and Irene aren't back from work yet. Jackson and Irene aren't back from work yet! Jackson's at a faculty meeting, Irene's at the office." A lump rose in her throat. "Jackson's at a faculty meeting, Irene's at the office." She swallowed. "You know this morning I told them both 'take care of yourself,' but they don't listen!" The line came out in an angry burst that took everyone, including Yuzuriha, by surprise. She pressed her hand to her heart and looked up at Fuuma.

"So much better," he told her, after a long pause. Yuzuriha nodded, her eyes suddenly overbright and heart beating against her hand. "Keep going when you're ready."

"Quarter past eight, you said?" she asked, suddenly distracted. "I'm worried about Maddox, I don't think he's feeling very well. Why's he's so cold?"

"Cut that," Fuuma interrupted.

"Why's he so cold?"

"Yeah."

"Thank you," said Yuzuriha, crossing out the line in her script.

"And keep moving," Fuuma added to her. "Wait no, go sit by Andrew! My bad." Yuzuriha sat down on the opposite end of the sofa.

"Yesterday he had a fever and today he's freezing. I'm worried," said Yuzuriha, softly.

"You believe that?" Fuuma asked her, curiously. Yuzuriha nodded without really meaning to.

"Yeah, I, I think she really does love her children," she said, slowly, "even if it's in a totally self-serving way." Her eyes widened for a moment before her expression switched into a proud smile. "Yes, exactly! Sorry, I just didn't really know that until I said it," she finished, with an embarrassed laugh.

"Certainly," Fuuma replied, understanding completely. "Keep going." Kamui hurriedly returned to his script.

"He's fine, Natalie," he said, pacifying rather than dismissive.

"I think it might be what he's eating," Yuzuriha continued, thoughtfully, as though Kamui hadn't spoken. "I'm worried." She sighed and turned to him. "I heard the parade is supposed to come through here. It'd be better if they didn't."

"We're on the parade route," Kamui reminded her.

"This morning my son woke up and looked at me and smiled!" Yuzuriha burst out, again as though she hadn't heard what Kamui had said. Fuuma's focus drifted slightly to Nataku, bored on his right, and Sorata and Arashi awkwardly making accidental eye contact on his left. "Why are you so quiet, Andrew?" Yuzuriha asked, after contemplating telling Irene to move out of her bedroom so she could convert it into her son's nursery.

"I'm just thinking," Kamui replied.

"Whatever," Yuzuriha said. She stood up and made to leave upstage left, but,

"Hold up," interrupted Fuuma, suddenly springing to his feet as though propelled by his idea. "What if you exited through the audience?"

"You mean like this?" Yuzuriha asked, walking downstage and hopping off the edge.

"Yes," Fuuma said, smiling excitedly at this new dimension to the staging. "In fact, enter from there too. Kanoe!"

"Yes?"

"For your next entrance, come through here." He indicated the corner downstage right. Kanoe took her place there at once. "Shit we're gonna need stairs or something, hold on…" Fuuma dug in his bag for his phone to text Kusanagi, but there was a text from Seishiro with what looked like a video. However, Fuuma forced himself not to get distracted, sending, 'we need stairs' to Kusanagi before taking his seat again. "All right, let's see it." Kanoe stepped up onto the corner downstage right and slowly walked over to the couch while Yuzuriha scurried offstage to sit beside Arashi.

"Aren't you up late, Nanny?" Kamui asked, his face and tone softening sweetly. Fuuma smiled, forgetting about Seishiro's message at once.

"What's that, dear?" Kanoe asked as Kamui moved over to let her sit down.

"I said, aren't you up late?" Kamui asked again, raising his voice slightly.

"I suppose so. I couldn't sleep." She looked up suddenly at Kamui. "What's that?"

"Nothing," Kamui replied, shifting uncomfortably. "Tomorrow's Friday. Happy Thursday to me." He paused and cast Kanoe a furtive look, but she just leaned back against the couch, apparently hearing nothing. "It's crazy how life changes," Kamui said, leaning forward. "How everything just goes to shit."

"Stop."

"I believe him!" exclaimed Kamui, and Fuuma appreciated his immediate defiance.

"Oh yeah?" Kamui nodded.

"I mean, he's genuinely unhappy, or at least I think he is." Fuuma waited, and Kamui plunged on. "And like, it sucks, but he brought that shit upon himself." Everyone snorted into their scripts, even Arashi. Kamui swelled, heartened by this. "No seriously! Like, I feel bad for him, but my dude, come on…"

"Oh my god, Kamui," Yuzuriha giggled.

"He's not wrong though," Sorata said, from Arashi's other side. Arashi nodded, then, bravely,

"That's sort of the whole plot, isn't it?"

"I feel bad, but my dude, come on?" laughed Kamui.

"All right," Fuuma said, loudly, putting an end to the commentary.

"Sorry," Kamui muttered, though he still looked rather pleased with himself. "Why did you stop us?"

"What?" Fuuma asked, distractedly. "Oh, I have no idea anymore, let's just keep going for now." Nataku rolled his eyes and Kamui returned to his script.

"I was so bored today," he began, disheartened and disgusted. "Literally I had nothing to do, so I started reading through my old university notes." His eyes widened in horror. "It's hilarious now. I'm secretary on the City Council, under fucking Nathan. The only place I can go from there is a member on the Council, are you fucking kidding me?! Me, on the City Council, when," his voice broke as his horror gave way to a sudden sadness and despair that Fuuma felt powerfully in his own chest. "When I still dream about being a professor or a scholar, someone important." He stared straight ahead, one arm around himself, the knuckles of his other hand white on his script.

"I don't know, my hearing's going, love," Kanoe said, apologetically.

"If your hearing were good I wouldn't be saying any of this," Kamui told her, regretfully. He placed his elbow on the arm of the couch and leaned his head into his hand. "I know I need to talk to someone, but my wife doesn't understand me and my siblings freak me out. I always feel like they'll just make fun of me." He paused, looking utterly lost for a moment, but then recovered himself to say, jokingly, "I don't drink, but fuck what I wouldn't give to be at a rooftop bar in the city right now." He laughed rather sadly while Kanoe just nodded.

"Mmhmm."

"In New York, you could be in a bar full of people and no one knows who you are, but you don't feel lonely," Kamui said, more sadly than wistfully. "Here, everyone knows you and you know everyone, but it's the loneliest place I've ever been." He slipped back into looking utterly lost. Kanoe shifted in her seat for a better look at him.

"How's that?" she asked. Kamui met her gaze with wide, sad eyes.

"I have no idea." They both paused, maintaining eye contact, and a sudden chill seemed to run through the room, catching everyone in the chest.

"I think I'll try and get back to bed," Kanoe said, eventually, as though remembering suddenly where she was and what she was doing. She got to her feet. "I love you, Andrew darling." She was about turn and exit but,

"Give him a goodnight kiss or something, come on," Fuuma said, impatiently. Kanoe raised her eyebrows. "On the forehead or cheek, for fuck's sake!"

"Hey, it's you, I've learned to be suspicious," she shot back, and Kamui snorted but allowed Kanoe to kiss him tenderly on the forehead. She pulled away, but they remained close, and Kamui fixed her with a look of sudden, deep affection.

"Good night." He watched her leave the stage through the audience, then sighed and ran his fingers through his hair. "Sleep well." He heaved himself off the couch, stretched and slouched to the opposite corner downstage. "Sleep well." He jumped off the stage and sprinted into the seat beside Yuzuriha, who gave his arm a squeeze.

"That was fucking great!" she told him.

"Really," Sorata added, grinning at Kamui before addressing Fuuma. "Are we still entering upstage left?"

"What?" Fuuma asked, looking around distractedly. "Yeah, but let's take five first." Sorata looked taken aback, but then shrugged, stood up and stretched with a soft groan. "Actually, you know what?" Fuuma said, thoughtfully, thumbing through his script. "Kamui, Yuzuriha and Kanoe? You three can come back at four with everyone else." The three of them looked at each other, then at Fuuma. "It's all good," he assured them, smiling. "I just wanna work this next scene and I don't wanna keep you guys here for no reason." Although that was technically true, Fuuma's true motivation was to have as few people in the room as possible for Maudie and Young's confession scene, figuring it'd be easier on Arashi. However, the fact that she'd taken the movement class and had contributed to their discussion earlier made him feel much more optimistic.

Kamui and Yuzuriha nodded, appreciating this thoughtfulness, while Kanoe just rolled her eyes. "Were you still planning on going grocery shopping?" Kamui asked Yuzuriha.

"Yeah, you wanna come?"

Fuuma was already halfway out of the theater with his cellphone when Kamui replied, "Sure!" He blinked in the sudden brightness of the lobby and retreated to the space between the Yoru and Macbeth posters to read Seishiro's message. Making sure to turn the volume all the way down, he pressed on the video he'd sent him, swearing under his breath when it took him a few tries to finally get it full screen. His lips parted hungrily as he found himself staring between Seishiro's legs, his pants undone and underwear pulled away. He wasn't hard, and his hands were nowhere to be seen, but he was oozing cum all over his belly, which rose and fell with obviously heavy breathing. Fuuma closed his eyes, doing his utmost not to get hard even though blood had immediately rushed excitedly between his legs.

Seishiro had told him about this happening before, of him leaking cum unexpectedly when he wasn't allowed to get off for a while as per Fuuma's instructions. However, actually seeing it was mind blowing. It was like the perfect ruined orgasm, but completely out of anyone's control, his body just taking over and releasing for him…

'you're so fucking wet, goddamn' Fuuma texted him, still fighting his own arousal as hard as he could. 'and at work too? fucking so shameful' He closed his eyes and took several deep breaths, trying to vent the heat inside him. However, his mind flashed back to what felt like thousands of years ago but was just one week, kissing Seishiro goodbye on a Monday afternoon outside his house.

"Don't come until I see you next," Fuuma had told him, breathing softly against his lips. Seishiro had shivered in his arms and instantly got hard against his thigh. "Do you understand?"

"Yes…"

Or maybe it was another memory of another powerful man who just wanted to be controlled and dominated and humiliated. Fuuma forced his eyes open, tried to bring himself back to the present, to the lobby of BTC and rehearsal starting again in mere minutes.

However, his mind was still far away, with all the men he'd known growing up: his parents' friends, teachers, classmates, the men of the world he'd been so desperate to escape but Seishiro inhabited so easily. He crossed his arms as it occurred to him, not for the first time, that Seishiro had also been keen to escape his upbringing, only to dip his toes back in by serving on BTC's Board of Directors, and, to a lesser degree, hooking up with Fuuma.

Fuuma looked at his phone still clutched in his hand before he could untangle the psychology. Seishiro hadn't replied, but Fuuma hadn't expected him to. Seishiro would leave him hanging as long as he could: he always tried to take his power back in small ways, and Fuuma would just let him do it. He sighed yet again, all the energy that would be arousal coursing through his body, looking desperately for another outlet.

"Fuuma?" He started and turned to see Nataku sticking his head out of the door of the theater. "It's already been ten minutes, do you want to get back to it, or?" Fuuma hitched a smile back onto his face at once.

"Yeah, my bad," he said, graciously, hurrying over to join Nataku, whose brow was furrowed searchingly. "Just trying to figure out when the fuck Seishiro's gonna get his ass up here," he explained.

"Anytime soon?" Nataku asked, tilting his head to the side.

"Fuck if I know," Fuuma replied as they walked back inside the theater. "But you know whose problem that is?" he asked, seizing his script and jumping up onto the stage.

"Not yours?" Nataku asked, wearily, sitting down in the front row. Fuuma spun dramatically on the spot and toasted Nataku with his script.

"That's fucking right!" He turned to face Sorata and Arashi, who had been waiting patiently center stage. "You guys ready?" he asked, the energy coursing through him channeling suddenly into his voice, reaching Sorata, who took a sharp breath in, and Arashi, who just wrapped her arms more tightly around herself. "Okay! So Andrew just exited and you two enter from upstage left?"

"Yeah," Sorata said, taking his place in the wings. Arashi followed, looking hesitantly at Fuuma over her shoulder. He sat down at the edge of the stage with his legs crossed, eyes eager and heart racing.

"All right, let me fucking see it."

Arashi closed her eyes, took a deep breath in and sighed it out, then, "I'm not sure," she said, rather awkwardly, entering with Sorata behind her and crossing the stage. "Force of habit I guess; leftover from before Dad died. Did you want tea or coffee?"

"That'd be great, thank you," Sorata replied, sounding convincingly exhausted.

"Seriously, though," Arashi persisted.

"Stop." Sorata and Arashi turned and tensed as though Fuuma's voice had been distant gunfire. "What's going on in this scene?" he asked, trying to sound calm over his pounding heart. Sorata and Arashi exchanged a look.

"Uh, well," Sorata began, wary of Fuuma's tone. "Colonel Young and Maudie are talking, but then he," he paused, gathering determination. "He tells her how he feels about her." Arashi bit down on the inside of her lip and nodded. Fuuma smirked.

"Quite the fucking plot point," he said, placing his hands behind him and pressing into the floor to arch his chest. "And the text itself does fuck all to help you get there."

"Yeah for real," Sorata muttered. Arashi let out a noise somewhere between a moan and a giggle and pressed her fingertips to her lips.

"So fucking show me," said Fuuma, his voice lowering. "I wanna feel the tension. Get up in each other's faces, do whatever, I don't care, but let me fucking feel it, all right?" He hadn't meant to sound so forceful, but his heart was still pounding, pumping the words up from inside his chest. Arashi's face tensed visibly. Sorata, however, nodded thoughtfully.

"Cool," he said, chancing a glance at Arashi, who went slightly pink, but didn't look away.

"Young, let's take it from your line," Fuuma said, before she could think about it too much. Sorata and Arashi nodded. "All right, give it to me."

"That'd be great, thank you," Sorata said, still sounding convincingly exhausted, though looking at Arashi with a new softness and receptivity. Her breath caught in her chest, but then she broke their eye contact and referred hurriedly to her script. Fortunately, Sorata's gaze was intense enough to keep the tension, tight and excited in the space between them.

"Seriously though," she said, her voice lowering slightly.

'That's better,' thought Fuuma.

"Seriously though," she said again, her voice still low, but more confident as she took a step towards Sorata. "Here at least, the only decent, cultured people are in the military." The contempt in her voice was still forced, but Fuuma didn't stop them. He just fixed his eyes upon her face as she looked out over the audience, one arm folded across her body. "I got married when I was eighteen," she confessed. "I couldn't believe it. My husband was a schoolteacher and I had just graduated. I used to think he was so smart, so aware, so important. Too bad that turned out to be a crock of shit," she continued, insincerely bitter.

"I see," Sorata replied, as patiently as he could.

"I'm used to my husband, obviously," Arashi pressed on, watching Sorata furtively out of the corner of her eye as she proceeded further and further downstage. "But all the other civilians here are so ignorant and trashy. I can't handle it. I have no time for backwards, out of touch men. When I'm around my husband's colleagues it literally kills me."

"Why?" Fuuma interrupted, startling her.

"I'm sorry?"

"Why does it literally kill you?" Arashi consulted her script.

"Well… Because they're all uncultured and ignorant and all the rest of it?" she offered. Fuuma sat up straight again.

"According to Maudie," he said, switching the cross of his legs. Arashi drew an anxious breath into her collar bones. "But what about you? Do you think Maudie has any idea what she's talking about?" Arashi made a soft, disbelieving noise in her throat, then blushed. "Come on," Fuuma persisted with an encouraging grin. "We all know people who wanna comment on everyone else's lives and we all know what they're like." Arashi let out a burst of laughter, than flushed and covered her mouth. "Exactly," Fuuma continued, still grinning encouragingly. "And, if you play it straight like that-"

"The audience is going to hate me," Arashi finished the sentence for him. Her eyes widened as though she'd startled herself and she hugged her script to her chest.

"Exactly," Fuuma said again, warmly, his pounding heart swelling in his own chest. "I mean, if that's what you want, I completely support you," he said, without a trace of sarcasm.

"Really?" Arashi asked, stunned.

"Certainly," Fuuma replied, shrugging, though still completely sincere. "Some of my favorite characters are pains in the ass or just straight up horrible fucking people. If that's where you want to go, I'll meet you there." Neither of them spoke for a moment, though they continued to stare each other hard in the face.

"Really?" Arashi asked again, eventually. Fuuma nodded. "But, I-" She looked over at Sorata, watching and waiting by the dining table.

"I don't wanna hate you," he told her, earnestly, when he realized they wanted his input.

"I…"

"It'd be way harder to play this role, you know?" Sorata continued, either backtracking or trying to lighten the mood, it was unclear. "It's hard enough that Young and his wife are so unhappy," he finished, shrugging. However, Arashi took a step towards him and her blush deepened.

"I don't want you to hate me. I don't want anyone here to hate me," she told him in a constricted voice, taking herself by surprise again. Sorata's expression softened and he seemed tempted to reach out and embrace her, or at least touch her, but then Fuuma got to his feet. He'd known from the start that Arashi's issues with Maudie went well beyond the show, even though she hadn't told him anything explicitly. He walked over and stood beside her, as grounding and reassuring as possible. Arashi looked up at him with wide eyes, and he could easily imagine her as a little girl who had no one who listened to her.

"I know this is a hard role for you," he told her, very quietly. "But I also know there's something about her that you understand." Arashi's breath caught in her chest and she swallowed. "If you want more time to think about it, come back at four with everyone else and Sorata and I can keep working. It's totally cool."

"No, I," she started to say, but then broke off abruptly, swallowing the words. She looked down at her script for a moment, then back up at Fuuma. "I want to stay," she said, firmly. "I can do it."

"You sure?"

"Yes."

"Okay cool." Arashi turned to Sorata, who still looked apprehensive, but gave her an encouraging nod anyway. Fuuma backed away and took his place at the edge of the stage again, goosebumps erupting up and down his arms. "Let's take it from your entrance," he said. Sorata and Arashi hurried back into the wings. "Let me see it all."

"I'm not sure," Arashi said, leading Sorata back on stage, and the shift was immediate and heartening. Fuuma watched her with rapt attention, hearing insecurity and self-doubt rather than elitism and contempt. Sorata was still completely in character, tired and rather impatient, but there was a curiosity and a pulse now. "When I'm around my husband's colleagues it literally kills me," Arashi said, and Fuuma felt the new sad undertone like an electric charge. Sorata pressed himself away from the dining table with a heavy sigh.

"Honestly?" he said, clearly trying not to snap as he walked downstage. "I don't think being in the military makes a difference." Arashi's gaze jumped to Sorata, shocked at his reaction. "Here, all the educated people, civilian or military, all say the same shit." His voice began to rise and Arashi took a step away, her eyes huge. "You talk to any guy and he'll say he hates his wife, he hates his house, he hates his horses. Not exactly aiming high, is it?"

"What?" Arashi asked, her voice weak again.

"Don't take that, Maudie, come on!" Fuuma cried from the edge of the stage, then, before she could freeze, "stand your ground! You can talk back!" Arashi nodded and changed tact.

"What?" she asked again, bewildered, but aware, and Sorata pressed on.

"Why is he sick of his wife and kids?!" he demanded. "Why are his wife and kids sick of him?!" He faced Arashi, and a moment passed in very tense silence.

"You're in a bad mood today," Arashi said, and the tension dissolved immediately. Sorata strode back upstage and sank into the nearest dining chair, his elbows on his knees and face in his hands.

"I guess so."

"Say 'I'm sorry,' instead," Fuuma interrupted.

"I'm sorry," Sorata said, pausing to make a note in his script. "I haven't eaten anything since this morning." He shook his head as if to clear it, then looked up at Arashi, whose expression was still wary. "My daughter's sick today, and I always get anxious when one of them is sick." Arashi nodded, and Sorata's expression seemed to sag under her gaze. "I feel terrible that they have the mother they do," he confessed. "It's my fault. She was being crazy again today, picking fights with me over petty bullshit. We started arguing at like, seven o'clock this morning and at nine I just said 'fuck this!' and left." He heaved a heavy sigh and leaned over the dining table, his face in his hands again. Arashi waited a moment, then took the seat opposite him. He looked up at her, his expression both fearful and full of meaning. "I never talk about this," he said, softly. Arashi leaned forward on the table. "I'm sorry to put all this on you, it's just," and he leaned in closer too. "You're the only person who will listen. I don't really have anyone else." The words hung in the air between them, their promise echoing shamelessly in their desperation and sadness. Arashi leaned a fraction of an inch closer, her lips parted, but then withdrew and got to her feet, breathing hard as she strode downstage. Fuuma scrambled back to give her room, though there was still a good three feet of space between him and her mark.

"The wind is so loud in our chimney!" she cried, in a vain attempt at distraction. Sorata got carefully to his feet and slowly walked downstage to stand beside her. "Before Dad died our stove used to make that noise too!" She turned and started to find Sorata so close to her and color flooded her face.

"Are you superstitious?" he asked her in a low voice.

"Yes," she replied, shivering visibly. Sorata eased in even closer.

"It's crazy," he said, very softly, about to reach for her hair as per Fuuma's stage direction. "You're-" However, Arashi swallowed the rest of his line as she dropped her script and kissed him hard on the lips.

"Oh shit," Fuuma breathed, a shiver running down his spine and the hair on the back of his neck standing up. It wasn't in the script or any of the directions he'd given them, but he loved it. Sorata's eyes flew open and he tensed in her arms, but she withdrew before he could react. She covered her mouth and looked to Fuuma, terrified, and he was at her side again immediately.

"Are you okay?" he asked.

"Sorry!" Arashi cried, through her fingers.

"It's okay!" Sorata assured her, though he was still clearly stunned. "It's totally cool, don't worry!" Arashi nodded, her fingers still over her mouth.

"Are you okay?" Fuuma repeated, more firmly. She dropped her gaze, nodded and took her hands away. Fuuma smiled. "That was fucking great," he said. "If you wanna keep that kiss in there, please do, but no pressure." Again, Arashi nodded. Fuuma could feel her anxiety in his own body and knew his praise wasn't cutting it. "Do you need a second?" he asked her, very softly. Her eyes darted to Sorata, and she inclined her head in the tiniest of nods. "Take," Fuuma called, loudly, checking his phone and noticing a message from Seishiro. "You know what? Fuck it, let's stop for now. I'll see you back here at four."

The words were barely out of Fuuma's mouth when Arashi scooped up her script and scurried offstage. She snatched her bag from its front row seat and disappeared out the door. Sorata watched her go, delicately bringing his fingers to his lips.

"You okay?" Fuuma asked.

"Yeah," he replied, nodding slowly. "Yeah. Just took me by surprise is all." He flushed.

"For sure." Fuuma glanced at Nataku in the audience, who looked only vaguely interested in the proceedings.

"I didn't want," Sorata started to say, but then just shrugged again and rubbed the back of his head. "I guess I should go run lines or something," he said instead, hitching a brave smile onto his face.

"You want my help?" Fuuma asked.

"Huh?"

"Do you want me to run lines with you?" Fuuma asked. "It's not like I have anywhere to be."

"Are you sure?" Sorata asked, incredulously.

"I wouldn't have offered if I wasn't." Sorata still looked disbelieving, but,

"I mean, yeah that'd be fucking great, thank you!" Fuuma smiled and waved the words aside.

"It's no problem. Nataku can help us too," he added.

"Nataku will do no such thing," he replied, coldly, getting to his feet. "I'm here if you need anything else, though. You guys want coffee?"

"That would be amazing," Fuuma said, shifting back and forth on his feet.

"I'll go make some," Nataku replied, heading out of the theater.

"Thank you kindly!" Fuuma called after him. "We can get started in just a second," he continued, addressing Sorata. "Let me just answer this text." He turned away to read Seishiro's message.

'Lick me clean' Fuuma closed his eyes, wishing more than anything he could, but…

'only if you're very VERY good' Fuuma shoved his phone back in his pocket before he could get too distracted and faced Sorata once again.

"Where do you wanna start?"

Arashi walked back across campus as fast as she could without drawing attention. The nearest people were off in the distance, but their mere presence, indeed even the bright sun and the summer breeze, felt like scrutiny. She wrenched open her dorm's door and stepped into the cool shade of the kitchen with relief, then let it fall shut behind her with a clatter that echoed off the cabinets and countertops.

Unfortunately, in the stillness and silence that followed, everything she'd hoped to leave at the theater caught up with her, all of the shock and embarrassment and other unnamable things. Not to mention Sorata in her arms and on her lips. She closed her eyes, but only became more aware of her pounding heart, her burning cheeks and her shallow breath, of all the sensations in her body she was usually so good at ignoring. She pressed the heels of her hands into her eyes, but instead of the blackness she wanted to fall into, she saw Sorata smiling at her from across the room at Yuuto and Kanoe's party, saw him from her bedroom window kicking around a soccer ball with Kamui and Keiichi while Yuzuriha and Subaru cheered them on, saw Yuzuriha and Karen inviting her to get drinks in town after rehearsal…

She forced her eyes open and walked to the island in the middle of the kitchen. She set down her bag, placed her sweaty palms on its cool surface and leaned forward. This was so unlike her, there had to be some explanation. She tried to focus, to think rationally, to make sense of what had happened. Maudie and Colonel Young were supposed to be in love with each other, and Fuuma had wanted her and Sorata to express that. That movement class had also shaken her up, so it must have been that! Yes. It was just Fuuma's direction and the class. She clung to these thoughts like a lifeline.

"I mean, if that's what you want, I completely support you," Fuuma had said, so strong and present beside her. His support and patience were completely foreign to her: usually guys told her she was mysterious or alluring, only to demand that she open up to them while giving nothing themselves. Not that she'd wanted what they'd had to give anyway.

"I wanna know more about you," her boyfriend in drama school had said, then, "you're so cold, what the fuck?"

She'd expected Sorata to be the same, and even though they'd barely shared more than polite conversation until today, she'd still struggled against him, against their roles. She struggled, while he seemed to have it so easy on and off stage. Her stomach contracted, but it was around a different grievance. How could Fuuma have set her up to fail like this?! Why couldn't she have played Irene, for whom she'd originally auditioned?!

"I know this is a hard role for you, but I also know there's something about her that you understand."

How could he say something like that with such assurance? How was two weeks of rehearsals enough to know?

A cloud shifted outside. Arashi started, but then looked, really looked, across the room, taking in the net curtains at the window above the sink, the fresh ray of light filtering through them and all of the dust it illuminated.

"If you wanna keep that kiss in there, please do, but no pressure."

Had that been what he'd wanted her to understand about Maudie? Wanting someone to the point of acting out that way? Was that why he'd asked everyone else to go on break early? She tried to take comfort in the fact that because of that no one had been around to see, but people would still know. They'd still talk. She'd heard everyone's commentary on Yuuto and Kanoe, Subaru and Kamui, Fuuma and many others. Would she and Sorata be next?

The kitchen door opened with a loud creak, and Yuzuriha backed into the room with a large paper bag of groceries in her arms. Arashi, startled out of her spiral, forced herself to look normal. "Hey!" Yuzuriha said, smiling as the door fell shut behind her.

"Hi," Arashi replied, far more evenly than she'd expected.

"You guys got done early?" Yuzuriha asked, heaving the bag onto the counter and starting to unload it. Arashi rushed to help her, grateful for the distraction.

"Mm."

"Ah, thank you!" said Yuzuriha. "Kamui was gonna help me with that, but," she rolled her eyes. "Asshole."

"What?"

"He was supposed to come grocery shopping with me, but then we ran into Subaru leaving that movement class," she said, contemptuously, "and suddenly it's 'oh no, I'm so behind on learning lines, ah…' Like, really?" Arashi couldn't help but laugh at how accurate her impression of Kamui was. However, just as quickly she thought of Sorata again. Unlike Kamui and Subaru, who had been dancing around their obvious attraction to each other since day one, it hadn't even occurred to her to look at Sorata that way until today. However, she wasn't sure if that was because she'd just conditioned herself to immediately put castmates off limits or not. Now, though, she had to admit that he was very cute, and a nice guy, and he made everyone laugh, and he didn't demand from her… "Thank you!" Came Yuzuriha's voice, startling Arashi back to herself and their conversation.

"What?"

"For helping me put groceries away even though you totally didn't have to," Yuzuriha replied, closing the refrigerator door.

"It's nothing," Arashi said, hastily. "I'd have gone with you if I'd known, but," she flushed, embarrassed as she heard the lie come out of her mouth. Or, was it a lie?

"You can come with me next time!" said Yuzuriha, still smiling. "Besides, you were, you know, at rehearsal." Arashi's jaw clenched and she shivered as she recalled her arms around Sorata, her lips on his.

"Yes, um," she swallowed and managed a tight smile. "I'm going to go lie down before we have to get back to work, so…" She picked up her bag and made to go upstairs to her room, but,

"Arashi?" She turned. Yuzuriha was leaning against the kitchen island, eyes wide with concern. "I promise I'm not trying to bother you, I just," she took a step towards her. "I like hanging out with you, and if you ever need to talk to someone, I got you, okay?"

Arashi's heart leapt into her throat, preventing her from responding even if her mind hadn't blanked unhelpfully. Her first instinct was of course to be suspicious. Did she know something? Had she found out what had happened? The silence spiraled, and bizarrely, Arashi thought of Maudie, who felt continually misunderstood despite having her siblings and Colonel Young trying to reach her. Everyone thought Maudie was a spoiled brat, or cold, or angry, when really she was just struggling while other people had it easy. She was stuck, others were free. Arashi's throat burned suddenly around her throbbing heart and her stomach contracted again around Maudie's grievance.

"Thank you," she told Yuzuriha, managing to smile before retreating upstairs.

Yuzuriha watched her go, then looked down at her feet, her heart heavy in her chest. Aside from a general wish for everyone in the cast to get along (though unfortunately all the interpersonal bullshit she associated with high school drama seemed to persist into her adult career) she felt sad to see Arashi isolate herself this way. Not that she judged her for not being forthcoming: gossip was painful, especially during a show.

Yuzuriha got herself a glass of juice, her mind straying irresistibly to Kusanagi. She'd met him two summers ago when she'd been up here for an intensive at BTI. She'd first seen him beside the Ohkawa, spray painting some set piece, the bright sunlight illuminating his arm muscles. They'd struck up a rapport, and though it hadn't been much to go on, she'd been thrilled to find out they'd be working together this summer.

Sighing, Yuzuriha brushed her hair off her face and carried her juice upstairs to her room to go work on lines.

"You sure you don't want any?" Satsuki asked, taking the last hit from the joint Kusanagi had rolled for her.

"I can't, I have to go back to work tonight, remember?" he said, regretfully. Satsuki held the smoke in her lungs for a moment, then replied on her exhale.

"Oh yeah." Her mind was smooth and her thoughts uncomplicated as she snubbed out the joint and leaned back in her chair. After leaving the theater, Kusanagi had driven them to his unassumingly beautiful bungalow a little ways up Route 7. He'd made them sandwiches, and they'd sat outside on his wrap around porch to eat them, overlooking his back garden where he grew herbs, vegetables and berries. "You aren't supposed to be taking class right now, are you?" Satsuki asked, after a few minutes, though she assumed he wouldn't have skipped it just to get high and have lunch with her.

"No, I take those classes at SLA year round. I'm allowed to opt out."

"Really?" Satsuki asked, trying to imagine Kusanagi corralling his large frame and rugged muscles into graceful, spiralling movements.

"For injury prevention," he replied, smiling. "Construction's hard work. My dad used to tear things all the time, it drove my mother berserk."

"Oh," Satsuki replied, realizing how obvious that was. "Well I guess you don't need to do all that anyway, you play the only character in this show who isn't fucking crazy."

"Isn't he?" Kusanagi asked, mildly.

"Well, I guess Kanoe too," Satsuki amended, smirking. Kusanagi raised his eyebrows, but said nothing. A cloud of sparrows suddenly fluttered onto the porch railing, and Kusanagi began tearing off pieces of bread from his sandwich, breaking them up into crumbs and throwing them to them. "Isn't bread actually bad for sparrows?" Satsuki asked.

"That's ducks," Kusanagi replied, smiling down at the horde of small, twittering birds.

"Oh." Satsuki watched them chatter and scrap for crumbs, the sight enthralling in her intensifying intoxication. "Kanoe's character isn't crazy," she repeated, thoughtfully, the words bubbling up to the otherwise placid surface of her mind.

"The nanny?" Kusanagi asked, smiling. He leaned forward and made a chirping noise, trying to lure a particularly fat sparrow into his hand.

"Yeah," Satsuki said with a snort of contemptuous laughter. "Fuuma's so fucked up."

"For casting her that way?" Kusanagi asked, making more chirping noises at the sparrow, who kept tilting her head back and forth.

"Yeah like, was he mad at her or something?"

"Nah. If he were mad at her, to the extent that Fuuma ever really gets mad at anyone, he just wouldn't have cast her at all." Satsuki watched the sparrow finally hop into Kusanagi's hand, pick up the largest breadcrumb and fly away again.

"I guess she's just not as good at giving head as she seems," Satsuki said, with a rush of vindictive pleasure.

"Does she give off that vibe?" Kusanagi asked, genuinely curious as he dusted the remaining crumbs off his hands and sat back in his chair. Satsuki said nothing. Kusanagi picked up his sandwich and took a bite. "Besides," he said, swallowing. "I thought it was Yuuto who did that." They both knew the story of Fuuma's threesome with Yuuto and Kanoe in far too explicit detail, just like all Babylon Theatre Company dressing room lore.

"Oh yeah," Satsuki said, after a moment, her memory catching up to her. "Sorry, I'm high." Kusanagi laughed, then put on his best impression of Fuuma, sarcastically stupid and full of himself.

"Yeah I was fucking Kanoe but I was so fucked up I kept getting distracted by my reflection in the mirror." Satsuki burst into disgusted laughter.

"That actually makes me want to vomit," she told Kusanagi, when she regained control of herself.

"Good thing pot's an antiemetic!" Kusanagi replied, toasting her with his sandwich. Satsuki just shook her head and took a sip of her drink, the surface of her mind still rippling. It wasn't like she really cared: Yuuto and Kanoe seemed to make it a point to tell everyone about what they called their lifestyle, if not to outright proposition them. She remembered them doing it to Camellia two years ago, even though neither of them were in Yoru, though she'd turned them down. She was positive they'd tried it on Karen too, at their party, though she had no proof of this. Yuuto had also told Satsuki he'd talk to Kanoe and make plans with her, but so far nothing had come of that. Had Karen gone through with it? Was that why Yuuto had been ignoring all of her texts? Or was he just freaked out by her suggesting they spend more nights just the two of them?

Satsuki knew a shudder of contempt. Yuuto had explained the "rules" to her when they'd first discussed a threesome three years ao. He'd talked her through what was and wasn't allowed and she'd barely listened, too consumed with finally getting to act on her lust for him. However, even then it had all seemed so arbitrary. Of course, as far as she was concerned, all relationships were a collection of arbitrary rules and boundaries and limitations, which was why she was inclined to treat all of them with equal contempt and derision. Besides, it had all gone out the window once she and Yuuto were alone anyway. She remembered how he'd fucked her on his kitchen counter, half dressed and desperate, only to come at her with denial and bullshit ever since. "Have you ever fucked around with them?" Satsuki asked, brave on another fortifying rush of contempt. "Yuuto and Kanoe, I mean, not Fuuma." Kusanagi faced her, his head tilted to the side.

"Nope," he replied, with a smile. "I'm not judging, you all do you, I just know this is all a can of worms I'm not trying to open. Not for Yuuto and Kanoe's asses, anyway." Those sparrows who had stuck around after Kusanagi had stopped feeding them bread seemed to realize it was a lost cause and flew away.

"Yeah," Satsuki said, watching them go. "Yeah I guess so."

"Today, ladies and gentlemen, is Sunday, the day of rest," Yuuto said, under his breath and as quickly as possible, pacing back and forth across his living room. "Therefore let us rest and relax and recover! The Romans were a healthy people because," but he paused, his mind deserting him. "Because… Because… Fuck." He walked back across the living room, picked up his script from the coffee table and read the next part of his line. "Because they knew how to work hard and how to rest!" He put down the script and began to pace again, the carpeted floorboards creaking under his feet. "They were mens sana in corpe sano. Their lives all followed set patterns. Our headmaster says: the main thing in every man's life is its pattern. Nothing exists without patterns."

"But I'm here now."

Yuuto stopped in his tracks and stared fixedly at the piano across the room. It was always out of tune, but neither he nor Kanoe knew how to play it anyway. "Nothing exists without patterns," he said again, but the rest of the line escaped him. He walked back over to the coffee table and picked up his script. "Nothing exists without patterns," he read, quietly. "Our lives are the same. Maudie loves me." He put the script down and returned to his pacing. "My wife loves me." He stopped abruptly to stare at the piano again. "Today is a sad day, but I'm in good spirits." He sighed and ran his fingers through his hair, his stomach fluttering.

"But I'm here now."

"Not without Kanoe," Yuuto said out loud, just like he'd told Satsuki at the party. "Never play separately" was the most important of his and Kanoe's rules. 'Which you still broke,' he reminded himself, unkindly, and his stomach gave another flutter.

It had been easy not to think about what he'd done once Satsuki had left, a little blip on his otherwise spotless record. Right after it had happened, he'd just showered and changed and made incredibly passionate love to Kanoe later that night, ignoring the guilt by redoubling his effort. He loved Kanoe, and he knew she loved him, and he wanted to preserve that. He ignored the voice reprimanding him for his transgression by reminding himself, smugly, that swinging and playing and otherwise going beyond your relationship required you to be even more devoted to your main partner. It wouldn't break him and Kanoe the way it broke other, less committed, couples. Satsuki understood all of that too, of course, so Yuuto had been surprised when she'd approached him on his own like that. Not that it would ever happen again, that was obvious.

He picked up his script again, forcing his mind away from Satsuki. "Maudie, at four o'clock today we have to go to the headmaster's. He's having a party for all the faculty and their families. Then she says, 'I'm not going!' And…" He put down the script and resumed his pacing. "Why not?" He gave pause in place of Arashi's line. "And we'll spend the evening at the headmaster's." Yuuto rolled his eyes, knowing another rush of smugness as he compared Kirsch and Maudie's relationship to his and Kanoe's. Not that that was really fair, given that they were meant to be dysfunctional and he and Arashi had no chemistry anyway. She was gorgeous though, and despite the fact that she gave him nothing to work with on stage, he'd brought up propositioning her to Kanoe after their first readthrough.

"Please, she looks like if you even mentioned sex to her she'd pass out," she'd replied, scathingly.

"Fair enough," said Yuuto, breezily.

"Karen though, what about her?"

"I'd be open to that." Kanoe smirked.

"And if anything there's Satsuki." Yuuto's jaw clenched slightly, but he nodded.

"True," he replied, choosing to ignore how much more he liked that idea. Satsuki had looked so good that night, even in just her shorts and t-shirt, rolling her eyes at Fuuma and making notes in her script and muttering snarky comments under her breath.

"His health hasn't been great," Yuuto continued, saying the line as quickly as possible to see how much he remembered. "But he still keeps up his social life. He's absolutely brilliant. A wonderful man. Yesterday at a meeting he said to me, 'I'm tired, Mr. Kirsch, I'm tired!' Your clock is seven minutes fast. But yeah! 'I'm tired!' he told me." Again, Yuuto rolled his eyes. He couldn't blame Maudie for looking elsewhere, she must have been bored stiff. He gave pause where the next line would be, then, "You're the best, Jackson! Yesterday I worked from the crack of dawn to almost eleven at night. I was exhausted, but today I feel happy." He sighed and picked up his script, flipping the page and looking for his next line. However, before he found it, he heard the front door open. He smiled and turned to see Kanoe coming into the hall. "Hello," he called, setting down his script.

"Hey," she said, sounding disgruntled. Yuuto's smile gave way to a look of concern.

"What's going on?" he asked, approaching her.

"Fuuma dismissed us early," she said, allowing him to embrace her. He kissed her on the forehead and she sighed against him.

"Why'd he do that? Aside from him being a prick?" Kanoe let out a snort of appreciative laughter.

"He wanted to work the scene in Act Two where Colonel Young and Maudie admit their feelings or whatever. I wish him luck." Yuuto said nothing, positive that more was coming, and, sure enough, "I don't know what the fuck he was thinking with casting this year. I think he's losing his touch." Again, Yuuto said nothing. "Whatever, let him keep fucking Seishiro and getting work," she finished, looking up at Yuuto, who kissed her on the lips. She smiled and dropped her bag onto the floor before kissing him again, deeper now. Yuuto responded in kind, thrusting his tongue into her mouth and reaching one hand down to grip her ass. "How much time do we have?" she asked, between kisses.

"Plenty," Yuuto breathed. Kanoe wordlessly seized his hand and dragged him upstairs. Yuuto left his script, and any thoughts of Satsuki, downstairs in the living room.

"You know Spanish?" Sorata asked. Fuuma skipped Andrew's line to read Maudie's.

"Here knowing three other languages is just gratuitous. It's not a luxury, it's a useless skill. We have a lot of those."

"Good lord," Sorata said, placing his hands on the stage behind him and leaning into them. They were back at Act One, well away from Young and Maudie's drama. "Really though? I think there's always a place for educated people, especially in cities in the middle of nowhere…" He trailed off and looked at Fuuma, who supplied,

"Otherwise."

"Otherwise you get brain drain. Form a liberal, educated enclave and convert the unwashed masses!" He paused again, but before Fuuma could give him the line, "Plus that way you don't just disappear. People remember you."

"Very good," said Fuuma. "Then Maudie says she's staying for lunch and Transeau says… That's true, but to make that happen, to actually participate, you have to work hard."

"True," Sorata agreed. "By the way, these flowers are beautiful. Your whole house is beautiful! I'm jealous, maybe beauty's been what's missing. Oh well, what are you gonna do?"

"God, that sounds so old fashioned now, doesn't it?" Fuuma read, despairingly. "Back in my day, hard work got you everywhere!" Sorata rolled his eyes.

"You know," he said, his eyes suddenly intense with his focus. "I think a lot about, what if you were reborn, had the chance to start your life over, but you knew it was your second chance. Like, you did the rough draft of your life, and now you're on your final copy… Shit, line?"

"We'd all be," Fuuma supplied.

"We'd all be busting our asses trying not to repeat everything," Sorata continued, nodding. "Or at least not make the same mistakes again, or maybe just change the setting. Live in beautiful places?" Fuuma nodded. "Live in beautiful places like this, full of flowers… I have a wife, two little girls, my wife is sick, blah blah blah, yeah, but if I could do it all again, I definitely wouldn't get married." Sorata heaved a heavy sigh and Fuuma raised his eyebrows.

"What's that for?" he asked Sorata rather than Young.

"Nothing," Sorata replied at once. "Nothing, just, it makes me sad is all." Fuuma tilted his head to the side.

"Oh yeah? How come?" Sorata opened his mouth, but no words came out. It was already rather surreal to be working one on one with Fuuma Monou, especially on something as tedious as trying to get off book. To have him ask him about his character as though he really valued his opinion was something else entirely. Fuuma always seemed so astute, what could Sorata possibly tell him that he didn't already know? However,

"I, well, it sucks he's so unhappy," Sorata said, feeling like every light in the theater had suddenly focused on him. "But like what Kamui was saying this morning, I'm caught between 'bro you chose to get married, that was your call and no one else's,' but also there's this expectation that you will, so I guess do it and make it work." Subconsciously, it seemed, his eyes darted to the theater door through which Arashi had fled.

"Mmhmm."

"I guess Maudie's unhappy too, right?" asked Sorata, more of himself than of Fuuma. "But what do they think an affair is going to do? Let's be unhappy together without changing anything? I dunno…" He laughed rather embarrassedly and rubbed the back of his head. "Sorry, I-"

"Don't be, I asked you what you thought."

"I don't really have much to say."

"I don't believe you." Sorata's eyes widened and he pressed his lips tightly together, reminding Fuuma of a little boy catching himself revealing a secret. "You can overshare, it's cool," he said, unable to keep from smiling. Sorata exhaled slowly, but he managed to return Fuuma's smile.

"Is it that obvious I can't keep my mouth shut?"

"Nah, that's not the problem. You just don't feel shame easily, so you sometimes say things people don't wanna hear," Fuuma corrected him. Sorata laughed and rubbed the back of his head again.

"Usually when people tell me that it's not a compliment, but I'll take it!"

"It's all yours," said Fuuma, graciously. "So what else do you have to say?"

"I just don't get it," Sorata replied, bluntly. "Like really, what do you hope to accomplish? You're both still going to be unhappy, why not just split up and actually change your circumstances? I've had so many friends in similar situations and when I tell them that they get pissed at me, but it's not like they have kids or anything like Colonel Young… Not that I really get it because I grew up with my grandfather and I've never seen my parents together, so my only examples are movies and TV and books and that's, well, you know, not exactly reliable."

"I understand," said Fuuma, still smiling. "And, no disrespect, but it's unlikely you'll find a healthy example working as an actor." Sorata let out a burst of laughter, then immediately rubbed the back of his head guiltily, his eyes darting to the door again.

"So what do I do?" he asked. "People just tell me to wait." Fuuma knew he was talking about Arashi.

"I mean, they aren't wrong," Fuuma replied, apologetically, and Sorata's lip twitched but his attention sharpened. "Do you want my advice? Even though it probably won't be satisfying?"

"Yes please."

"Take your hands off the situation and focus on getting to know Young and your performance. Arashi's gonna give you what she can in her own time. You can't force a connection, that I'm sure you know." Sorata bit down on the inside of his lip. Even though most people were closed off compared to Sorata, he'd never met anyone like Arashi. Even that morning's kiss had been guarded despite the spontaneity and intensity. However, he forced himself to be optimistic.

"Universe's time, not my time, right?" he asked, and Fuuma laughed appreciatively.

"Sure. I mean my MO tends to be that everything's temporary anyway, which works out great since we're doing Three Sisters-"

"Does it?"

"Time's totally a thing in this play, come on. Kirsch complaining about the clock being fast? Dr. Grant's drunk ass smashing the clock in Act Three? Everyone philosophizing about doing things over?" Sorata looked rather stunned. "I pay attention! I just don't play that shit up because no audience is gonna give a fuck," Fuuma continued, with dignity.

"Why bother then?" Sorata asked, rather boldly.

"Well the symbols do matter," Fuuma elaborated, "but what matters more is the people interacting with them, and you can't get cerebral when talking about other people." Sorata nodded, still looking rather stunned despite getting the same advice from Mr. Aoki. "Fucking miss me with your psych minor," Fuuma added, for good measure, and Sorata snorted with laughter. "Right though? Plus this isn't one of those 'traumatic event happened therefore character behaves this way' stories, is it? Everyone's just kind of averagely fucked up, so how they treat each other is fucked up, therefore their relationships are fucked up."

"Exactly!" Sorata exclaimed, strangely comforted by the words. "But at the same time you still want things to get better and work out for them. You'd think at least Transeau and Irene could have a happy ending!"

"Absolutely. I wanted them to go off happily into the sunset together too," agreed Fuuma, completely unashamedly.

"You're more old fashioned than you look," Sorata informed him, also completely unashamedly.

"I have my moments," Fuuma conceded. "Even if Irene isn't in love with Transeau the way he is with her, I think they could have worked something out. Maybe she could fall in love with someone else and the three of them could live together like Harriet Taylor and John Stuart Mill."

"But without the Victorian baggage?" Sorata asked, grinning.

"With Twentyfirst Century baggage," Fuuma corrected him. Sorata snorted, thinking of Yuuto and Kanoe, of Mr. and Mrs. Aoki, of his friends and their significant others.

"So… What the fuck?" he asked, despairingly.

"No one knows shit?" Fuuma offered, and Sorata laughed rather miserably. "I'm not trying to be fake deep, I swear to god, there's enough of that in this damn script, but really." Sorata nodded. A moment's thoughtful silence passed.

"You're right, that wasn't satisfying at all," he said, politely but honestly.

"Ha! Sorry. But I did tell you."

"It's cool," Sorata replied, shrugging.

"You wanna keep going?" Fuuma asked.

"Um, yeah, if you're still sure you don't mind helping me with this." Fuuma waved the words aside. "Where were we?" Sorata asked, with one last glance at the door.

"I'm not crying! I'm done! You see? Enough!" Kamui exclaimed, reading Irene's line and Subaru's cue. The two of them had been learning Act Three in Subaru's room since they'd run into each other after rehearsal.

"Listen, if it were me?" Subaru said, his green eyes, shining in the summer sunlight, fixed upon the ceiling as he recited the line from memory. "I'd just get with Transeau. Yeah he's not a model, but who is around here…?" His eyes darted to Kamui, sitting next to him on the bed.

"He's a good guy," Kamui prompted, doing his utmost not to get distracted.

"He's a good guy," Subaru pressed on, smiling. "And he's been head over heels for you for how long?" Kamui smiled back. "Come on. Getting married for love always ends badly for us, but getting married as a way out seems like a pretty good option." Subaru's smile faded, and his fine, handsome features became suddenly heavy with the weight of Jackson's burdens.

"I keep waiting to move back to New York," Kamui read, sounding desperately sad even though it wasn't his line. "There I'd meet someone and fall in love, but it's all bullshit!"

"You see what I'm saying?" Subaru countered, his expression heavier than ever. "I guess I'm supposed to be someone's way out, but if I could marry someone and have them take me away I'd do it in a fucking second." He sighed and ran his fingers through his hair. Kamui's heart ached with sympathy even as his tone switched to a cold fury for Maudie's line and Subaru's next cue.

"Suspect as fuck. You think maybe she set the fire?" he asked, referring to the stage direction Natalie crosses the stage in silence.

"Come on, don't joke about stuff like that," Subaru scolded.

"You think I was joking? Fuck outta here," Kamui replied, and Subaru let out a soft burst of laughter. "What?" Kamui asked, grinning at Subaru and going slightly pink.

"Nothing," Subaru replied, hastily, though his heart was racing. "You just make me laugh." It was entirely true; he loved Kamui's energy, his intensity, his smile, and had done since they'd first laid eyes on each other. "Sorry," he said, shaking his head.

"It's okay!" Kamui replied, hurriedly returning to his script, though he felt rather pleased with himself. "Um…" He found Maudie's line again. "I need to tell you guys something, and I'm only gonna say it once, so pay attention." He took a deep breath in. "I'm in love… I'm in love with Colonel Young."

"Oh fuck me," Subaru moaned, wearily.

"It's not my fault!" Kamui burst out, furiously. "At first I just felt sorry for him but now… Now I'm in love!"

"Another ten years off my life, I swear to god," Subaru said in the same weary moan. When Kamui didn't immediately read Subaru's next cue, he looked up to find him glaring at his script. "What are you making that face for?"

"What?" Kamui asked, blushing.

"What were you making that face for?"

"Nothing," laughed Kamui, shaking his head. "I just think she's just full of shit."

"Ha!"

"She is though, right? Like, I'm not crazy…"

"You aren't crazy," Subaru assured him at once, inching closer to him on the bed. "But I mean, isn't the entire cast full of shit?"

"I think if I were fifteen I wouldn't think so, but," Kamui broke off, shrugging.

"But?"

"Now I'm just glad we're not playing it straight," Kamui replied, and Subaru nodded in agreement. "Maudie liked Colonel Young out the gate though, like, fuck outta here," he continued, rolling his eyes. Subaru said nothing, and Kamui tilted his head to the side. "Don't you think so?" he asked, almost challengingly.

"That'll depend on how Arashi plays her, won't it?" Subaru asked, completely unabashed.

"I guess," Kamui said with yet another shrug. They stared at each other for a moment, the only sound that of insects, birds and a lawnmower humming in the distance, until Kamui broke their gaze and looked down at his script. "Um, do you wanna say Maudie's next line?" he asked, quietly.

"Oh, right." Subaru picked up his script. "You're such a prick, you know that?" he started to read, then, "yes yes," he skipped the bulk of the line to get to Kamui's cue. "Okay, I'm done, I'm not saying anything else."

"Jackson?!" Kamui demanded, glancing at his script one more time before setting it aside. "There you are! I need your keys to the bookcase. I can't find mine!" He paused as per the script's directions. "That fire was pretty crazy, right? It's starting to die down now, though." He swallowed. "Why aren't you talking?" he asked, staring hard at Subaru, who stared back. "All right you know what? Get off your fucking high horse, I'm tired of it!" he snapped, color rising up his neck and face. "All three of you are here, let's actually fucking talk. What is your problem with me?!"

"Andrew, shut up," replied Subaru in Jackson's exhausted next line. "We'll talk about it tomorrow morning, okay?"

"Don't get upset, I'm asking you calmly!" Kamui snapped, before taking a second to regain control of himself. He moved closer to Subaru, who was looking determinedly away. "Why are you three so angry with me?" he demanded, in a voice of forced calm. Subaru faced Kamui, and he froze, taken aback by how close they were to each other on the bed. A moment's silence passed, then Subaru swallowed and leaned in even closer.

"Seriously, Andrew, please?" he asked, very quietly. Kamui's gaze snapped to Subaru's lips, then back up to his eyes, shining so brightly. There was an infinitesimal pause, then Kamui kissed Subaru suddenly and intently on the lips. Subaru's breath caught in his chest and his body lit up, but before he could even register it-

"Oh fuck, sorry!" Kamui cried, pulling away with flushed cheeks and wide eyes. However, Subaru's face broke into a smile, the light inside him making his expression glow. Kamui barely had time to let out a shaky sigh of relief before Subaru kissed him back.

"I've been wanting to do that since we met," Subaru breathed, resting his forehead against Kamui's.

"Really?" Kamui asked, his heart squeezing almost painfully.

"Mmhmm…" Kamui tenderly cupped Subaru's face, rubbing his thumb against his cheekbone as he pulled him into another kiss.

"Me too," he whispered against his lips, and they shared a shiver of excitement.

"Isn't this fucked up, though?" Subaru asked with a rather mischievous smile. "Considering we're brothers in this play?" Kamui let out a snort of laughter.

"What? In a completely different universe? That's fucking stupid." Subaru laughed and kissed him again, a little more insistently this time. Kamui responded at once, opening his mouth to Subaru and allowing him to press his tongue inside. They fell back with a creek of bedsprings, sending their scripts flying, and lay on their sides, arms around each other, kissing deeply but quietly. Subaru dragged his hands up and down Kamui's back, his waist and his ass, feeling heat rush up his arms to pool in his chest, his belly and his erection. "Oh fuck," Kamui moaned, arching forward into the touches and sliding his thigh between Subaru's. "Of fuck," he moaned again. He pulled out of their kiss to look Subaru in the face. "You're hard," he whispered, his eyes darkening in arousal.

"I know," Subaru whispered back, smiling a lustful smile and grinding gently against Kamui's thigh. Kamui cried out and shuddered in arousal, his hands finding Subaru's hair and gripping tighter. "So are you."

"Yeah, well, you feel good," Kamui told him, quietly. Subaru laughed softly and kissed him again, deeper this time. With a groan and surge of hot desire, Kamui pressed his tongue into his mouth, rolled him onto his back and climbed on top of him. He sat up, straddling his hips and palming his chest through his shirt. Subaru moaned softly and arched up into the touch, his hands finding Kamui's thighs and squeezing them. Kamui's lithe, supple leg muscles tensed and his eyes closed in a needy gasp. He looked amazing, and as he opened his eyes and began to grind his hips back and forth, Subaru bit back a cry of his own. "Subaru?"

"Yes?" He slid his hands up Kamui's thighs to grip his ass. An excited charge rushed out through Kamui's body and mind, but he managed to stay focused and stared down at Subaru, who felt a sudden rush of his emotion in his own chest.

"I like you," Kamui said, quietly, his heart throbbing. Subaru's heart sped up sharply at another rush of emotion, and he flushed and sat up underneath him, still holding tight to his ass. Kamui ran his hands up and down Subaru's upper arms before finding his shoulders and giving them a squeeze.

"I like you too," Subaru whispered, blushing. Kamui grinned, tenderly took hold of the sides of Subaru's face and pulled him into a deep, passionate kiss. Subaru groaned into his mouth and thrust his hips upwards. Immediately Kamui began to grind his hips back and forth again, much faster now, breathing hard through his nose. Subaru shuddered, loving the pressure, the tenderness and the sensuality. He slipped his hand up the back of Kamui's shirt, groaning at his warm skin and smooth muscles. Goosebumps erupted up and down Kamui's arms and his belly pulled in and up in excitement. He moved his hips even faster, shifting side to side, gasping when he found the perfect angle. Subaru dug his fingers into Kamui's back as his erection throbbed, begging for more skin, more heat, more everything.

A sudden noise downstairs made Subaru and Kamui jump. Still holding tight to each other, they pulled out of the kiss and looked towards the door they'd left open, through which they could now hear Hokuto, Karen and Kakyo's distant voices. "Fuck," Subaru groaned, resting his head against Kamui's chest. Kamui laughed softly and stroked his hair as he leaned forward to speak directly into his ear.

"Do you want me to shut the door?" Subaru moaned in soft frustration and Kamui's heart swelled.

"What time is it?" Subaru asked, breathing deeply against Kamui's chest, smelling his skin and listening to his heartbeat. Kamui sighed and hugged Subaru closer for a moment.

"I dunno, let me check," he said, defeatedly. Very reluctantly, they let go of each other, withdrawing hands and unwinding arms. Kamui heaved himself out of bed and dug in his bag for his cellphone. "It's 3:15," he said, taken completely by surprise. "Shit when did that happen?" Subaru laughed mischievously and Kamui grinned at him over his shoulder before walking back to the bed and kissing him, sound and heavy, on the lips. Subaru shuddered, arousal simmering hopefully inside him again, but then Kamui pulled away. "You wanna get something to eat before we have to go back to work?" he asked. Subaru brought his hand to the side of Kamui's face and pulled him into another kiss.

"Something," he breathed against his lips, and Kamui replied with a noise somewhere between a laugh and a moan, then pulled away. He closed his eyes, stretched and took deep breaths, trying to deflate his erection. Subaru leaned back on his hands for a moment, then stood up too, running his fingers through his hair before reaching for Kamui's hand. Kamui looked back at him, smiling and returning the gesture with a squeeze.

"What's up?" Subaru hesitated a moment, hoping he wouldn't take this badly.

"Let's keep this between us," he said, very quietly.

"Oh fuck yeah," Kamui replied as though it were obvious, which made Subaru laugh.

"You're sure that's cool?" he asked, just in case.

"Absolutely," Kamui assured him. He smiled at Subaru, who smiled back, and they picked up their things and headed downstairs.

In the kitchen, they found Hokuto, Kakyo and Karen all hovering over something on the island. "Hey," Subaru said, doing his utmost not to be obvious. All three of them looked up.

"Oh hi, I didn't realize you were home!" Hokuto exclaimed, her eyes lingering on Kamui.

"We were running lines," Subaru explained, shrugging, though he knew she didn't believe him. "What are you guys doing?" he continued, walking over. Kamui followed, trying not to blush.

"I, um, I got my headshots done today," Kakyo said, showing Subaru and Kamui the six photographs laid out on the kitchen island. They were all basically the same, black and white and somber, but Kakyo's face was just different enough in each of them to where it was hard to pick a favorite. "The photographer said I should use one of these," Kakyo explained. "She thought they were the best." He gave Hokuto a sideways smile. "And Hokuto agrees."

"Kotori's a genius, of course I agree!" she replied, returning his smile before addressing the room at large. "I'm going to make pasta, if you want some. Which you should because it's delicious and you need to eat something before call."

"I feel bad you're cooking for us all the time," said Karen.

"Well don't," Hokuto replied, brightly, seizing a pot from the stove, slamming it in the sink and filling it with water. Karen exchanged a look with Subaru behind Hokuto's back, then leaned over the kitchen island and Kakyo's photographs.

"Taking headshots is so weird," said Kamui, his forearm subconsciously brushing against Subaru's.

"It is," agreed Karen. "Especially if you've never done it before. I was lucky with my first set, though; one of my friends needed to take portraits for a class our senior year of high school, so I modeled for him and he let me keep the prints." Her heart swelled as she said it. After her friend had taken the photographs, she'd helped him develop them in the tiny darkroom in their high school's basement. She recalled exactly the red lights and the smell of the developer as it lapped the sides of the shallow plastic tray, causing her face to appear on the photo paper like some newly conscious animal emerging from a primordial ocean.

"Very lucky," agreed Subaru, his shoulder bumping gently against Kamui's.

"I also didn't have a lot of options, working a box office part time after school."

"That's rough," replied Subaru, tilting his head to the side sympathetically. Karen smiled and waved the words aside.

"It was worth it. I managed to get an audition at… Music Box I think it was? Somewhere in Times Square."

"Nice!" Kamui interjected, and Subaru nodded in fervent agreement.

"Thank you," she replied, smiling at how impressed they were and remembering fondly when the prospect of being a working artist was romantic rather than terrifying.

"Did you get the part?" Subaru asked, eagerly.

"No," Karen replied, laughing and shaking her head so her soft curls bounced around her face. "But I did get a smaller one, which was a start!" Kamui clapped for her and she bowed.

"Do you still have them?" Subaru asked. "The photos your friend took?" He could feel her affection for this person in his own chest, and he placed his hand tenderly and discreetly on Kamui's lower back.

"I do!" she replied. "Back in my apartment in the city." She remembered how stunned her friend had been to find this out, when they'd last seen each other, one week before she'd come up here and he'd left for a six month residency in Berlin.

"Did they let you play music?" Kamui asked Kakyo, leaning further forward on the kitchen island so that Subaru's hand dragged down his back. Subaru's heart swelled and he rubbed up and down, feeling rather like he was petting a cat. He caught Hokuto's eye as she glanced over her shoulder and smiled sarcastically at her. She stuck out her tongue and set a smaller pot on the stove for sauce.

"You mean at the photo shoot?" Kakyo asked.

"Yeah," Kamui replied. "When Yuzuriha and I got ours done they were like, 'play music! It'll help you relax! Or whatever!'"

"No," Kakyo replied, laughing. "But I wouldn't have even known what to play anyway." He looked to Hokuto, but she had become absorbed in pasta sauce and didn't turn around.

"I like this one," Subaru said, indicating with his free hand.

"Really?" Kakyo asked, his eyes snapping to Subaru's, unlike his sister's but no less beautiful.

"Definitely."

"I agree," Karen said. "I mean they're all lovely photos of you, but here you look the most like you do on stage."

"What do you mean by that?" he asked, bewildered. Karen placed her hand on his wrist. His eyes darted to it, then fixed almost fearfully upon her face.

"I just meant you look present," she said, simply. "In this picture I feel like you're looking at me, not just at a camera." Kakyo's eyes widened and he snapped his gaze to the picture, a blush creeping its way up his neck. Fuuma had said almost the same thing to him in rehearsal the week before, and it came back to him in an embarrassing rush.

"Talk to her, not that audience," he'd said, firmly. "Don't worry about them. If they can't pay attention or keep up when you're giving them more than enough that's they're fucking problem." When Kakyo hadn't understood, Fuuma had leapt up onto the stage and gotten right up close. "Say the lines to me," he'd whispered. For the briefest moment, his presence had become sharper, but far more giving. "Someone you actually care about. Hokuto."

"I'm sorry, I meant that was a good thing," Karen said hurriedly, clearly worried she'd upset him, but Kakyo just shook his head.

"No, I know, it's all right," he assured her. "I just got distracted for a second." He picked up the photo and took it over to Hokuto. She looked up from the sauce she was simmering and gave him a radiant smile.

"That one? Good choice!"

"You think so?" he asked her, his heart skipping.

"Absolutely!" Kakyo held the photo to his chest, careful not to get thumbprints on it.

"Thank you," he told her, very seriously, but she just smiled and waved the words aside like she always did.

With an hour to call, Fuuma ended his and Sorata's line running session, insisting both of them needed a moment to decompress before rehearsal began again. The second Sorata was out the door with a wave goodbye and more thanks, Fuuma checked his phone and smirked at a message from Seishiro.

'Fuck you'

'how hard are you from thinking about it though?'

He sent the reply, then texted Nataku to have him pick up food, which they were now eating at the Igarashi's bar. Fuuma's phone was face up on the smooth wooden surface, though it had remained quiet. However, he wasn't annoyed. Seishiro had probably just gotten caught up in something at work, which was way morefun to think about anyway: Seishiro in his expensive suit, hard and messy under his desk in his very nice office while trying to stay calm and focused.

Fuuma sometimes fantasized about going to visit Seishiro at work, under the pretext of bringing him lunch or something, then fucking him on his desk. He'd never actually seen Seishiro's office, but he imagined it to be large, trendy and airy, with huge windows and a leather couch in the corner. He doubted he'd ever know for sure: they had very little contact when they were both in New York.

'And after last summer he barely even texted me.' The thought burst up from under the sexy fantasies, jarring and resentful and taking him by surprise.

"Did Kusanagi ever get back to you about the stairs?" Nataku asked, before the thought could spread.

"Nah," replied Fuuma. "He's gonna see the text, get pissed off but wait to yell at me about it in person. Watch, the first words that come out his mouth when he gets here are gonna be 'the fuck is this about stairs?' or something." Nataku considered this, then nodded in agreement.

"As long as everything's ready before tech."

"It will be," Fuuma replied, breezily. "I won't put you all through last year again."

"Even if halfway through you decide nothing's working?" asked Nataku, skeptically.

"If I start that shit again, talk me down," said Fuuma. "You're my PA, isn't part of your job making sure I behave myself?" Nataku's eyes narrowed minutely, and a moment's silence passed. "You know if this show does well I could probably step back from Babylon," Fuuma said, the thought emerging from that same resentful place in his brain.

"Excuse me?"

"I mean I had to come back after fucking up last year," Fuuma explained. "But if I redeem myself, I could comfortably give this gig up, you know?" Nataku's jaw clenched so much his bottom lip jutted forward. "It's just something to think about," Fuuma continued, lightly, taken aback by the sudden tension. He reached out and gave Nataku's shoulder a squeeze. "I can get you more gigs as my PA if you want, but I know all the smart directors would be on you like fucking jackals." Nataku said nothing. Perhaps his jaw was still locked. "Like I said," Fuuma repeated, taking his hand away and drinking more water. "It's something to think about." Nataku replied with an indistinct noise, but before either of them could say anything else, a creak of hinges and dragging of carpet made them look up.

"Hello!" Keiichi called from the doorway, smiling and hurrying over.

"What's up?" Fuuma asked, grinning even as he felt Nataku glaring at the back of his neck.

"Not much," Keiichi replied, shifting his bag on his shoulder. "I was just out and about in Clow once class got out."

"Cool," said Fuuma. Keiichi shrugged.

"Yeah… Clow's kinda weird though, isn't it? Beautiful, but weird. My dad said artists congregated here because of the mineral deposits in the bedrock."

"What?" Nataku asked, surprise unclenching his jaw.

"I've heard that too," replied Fuuma, ignoring Nataku's "you're both idiots" eyebrow raise. "Did your dad perform here?"

"Only once," Keiichi replied, swelling with pride. "Because he didn't like being apart from my mom and me. Now I can do it in his place, though!"

"Damn, this summer's knocking all kinds of shit off your bucket list, isn't it?" Fuuma said, without any condescension or judgment.

"Haha! I guess you could say that! But I mean, who wouldn't want a gig at Babylon Theatre Company?" he asked, taking obvious pleasure in saying it. It reminded Fuuma of the night he'd met Seishiro, how he'd thrown his own, far less joyful, weight behind the words.

"I'm on the Board of Directors at Babylon Theatre Company," he'd said, when he'd cornered Fuuma as he emerged from the side door of the Long Island City warehouse he'd taken over for his Macbeth. Fuuma knew the name, obviously. Everyone did. Or at least, theater people and affluent people who cared about the arts (or just had summer houses in Clow) did. No doubt they'd be people like his parents, if his parents had been interested in theater.

"Oh yeah?" Fuuma asked, wondering if Seishiro had a point or was just showing off.

"I'm Seishiro," he said, then added, "Sakurazuka." Fuuma knew the last name too, obviously. However, he was careful to keep his expression neutral in case Seishiro was just looking to be recognized.

"Nice to meet you," he replied. He extended his hand, and Seishiro shook it.

"You too."

"Anyway," Keiichi said, and Fuuma forced himself to pay attention. "I'm gonna go warm up, I'll see you guys in there!"

"Cool," Fuuma said, still thinking of Seishiro.

"He's exhausting," Nataku said, disbelievingly, the moment Keiichi had disappeared into the theater.

"He's great," Fuuma corrected him, reaching for his phone as the door opened again. No new messages.

"Hello!" called Hokuto as she led Subaru, Kamui, Karen and Kakyo into the lobby.

"Good afternoon," Fuuma said, graciously. Subaru and Kamui immediately tried and failed to sneak into the theater without Hokuto noticing. Karen followed them at a distance, waving at Fuuma as she passed. He waved back, then focused on Hokuto, whose eyes were on the theater entrance as she approached with Kakyo.

"I can't," she sighed, shaking her head but smiling.

"They're fine. Are you staying for rehearsal tonight?" Fuuma asked, suddenly wondering if he'd told her to and forgotten. However, Hokuto rolled her eyes.

"Hardly, I have so much fucking sewing to do since you took my assistant away," she replied in a put-upon tone. Fuuma hung his head, though of course they both knew having people who couldn't sew around costumes was more a hindrance than a help.

"Sorry," Kakyo said, quietly, but Hokuto cut across him.

"Speaking of, Kakyo has a headshot for you. Show them." Kakyo held out the photograph he had clutched to his chest.

"Very nice!" said Fuuma, grinning.

"I'll put it in the office with the others," Nataku said, indifferently, taking it from him and sliding off the barstool. "Thank you," he called over his shoulder as he slunk around the edge of the bar.

"It's all legit now," Fuuma said, clapping Kakyo on the shoulder. He looked quickly at Hokuto, who smiled, and he smiled too.

"Yeah. Yeah I guess so," he agreed, sounding both excited and terrified. Hokuto gave his upper arm a squeeze.

"I'm gonna go sew, all right? I'll see you later." He nodded and she let go of him. "Bye, Fuuma!" She turned to go, pausing to hold the door open for Yuuto and Kanoe, holding hands and carrying cups of coffee. They thanked her and exchanged smiles with Fuuma before heading straight into the theater. Kakyo, still staring almost wistfully through the glass door, suddenly found himself staring at Yuuto and Kanoe's clasped hands. He swallowed. "Go on in," Fuuma told him, quietly. "We'll get started soon." Kakyo just nodded and scurried into the theater right as Nataku emerged from the office.

"At least he's pretty," said Nataku, his eyes narrowing after Kakyo as he leaned against the bar.

"You are such a hater," Fuuma told him, checking his phone yet again. Anticipating rehearsal was building up excited energy inside him and it would have been a relief to siphon it off. Unfortunately, Seishiro still hadn't replied.

"You think he knows Hokuto's completely uninterested in him, or…?"

"All right, that's enough," Fuuma said, more firmly, as Sorata opened the lobby door.

"Hey," he called, waving as he crossed the room alone and disappeared into the theater. A moment later, Yuzuriha and Arashi entered the lobby together, and Fuuma's attention sharpened at once.

"Hiya!" Yuzuriha called, pleasantly, and Fuuma smiled as he greeted her, then,

"Arashi?" She stopped abruptly as though someone had grabbed her, but faced Fuuma bravely. Yuzuriha stopped too, her eyes darting between them, clearly unsure if she should stay or not. "It's all good," Fuuma said, holding up his arms as though surrendering. Arashi squared her shoulders.

"I'm all right," she said, after a moment.

"Glad to hear it."

"And um, I think I found something Maudie and I actually understand about each other." Fuuma felt a shiver of excitement at her new resolve and determination.

"That's fucking fantastic," he said, his voice lowering. "I can't wait to see it." Arashi managed a small smile and headed off into the theater. Yuzuriha remained where she was, looking rather stunned for a moment, before recovering and hurrying after her. Fuuma smirked, his excited energy churning in his belly. Nataku watched her too, though only vaguely interested, then asked,

"So it's just Kusanagi we're waiting for?"

"Yeah, but-"

"The fuck is this about stairs?" Kusanagi entered the lobby, glaring at Fuuma. Nataku cleared his throat loudly to hide his snort of laughter as Fuuma faced Kusanagi across the room and gave him a winning, ingratiating smile.

"Come here, I'll show you," he said, leading Kusanagi into the theater. Nataku followed with his lips pressed tightly together. Most of the cast was on stage already, except for Yuuto and Kanoe, who were in the front row of the audience stage right. Everyone paused in their running lines, talking and stretching as Fuuma, Kusanagi and Nataku approached the stage. "Here," Fuuma said, gesturing at the downstage corners that led into the aisles. "I want a staircase at each corner so people can enter and exit through the audience." Kusanagi sighed wearily and closed his eyes for a moment.

"You couldn't have told me this sooner?"

"Well I didn't know I wanted people to exit this way until today, did I?" Fuuma countered, aware of how much he was annoying Kusanagi and how the whole cast was now listening.

"You just decided this today?" Kusanagi asked, incredulously. "What was it, the second I left?"

"Not the second…" Nataku cleared his throat, and Fuuma changed tact. "I know, I'm sorry," he told Kusanagi. "It'll look so good though, plus it'll make way more sense in Act Four when they're in front of the house." Fuuma hadn't actually thought about Act Four until that very second.

"I'm not building you stairs right now," Kusanagi told Fuuma.

"I didn't expect you to, that'd be crazy." A moment's silence passed, then Kusanagi sighed and ran his fingers through his hair.

"I'll get on it tomorrow," he said.

"You're the best!" Fuuma exclaimed, smiling widely. Kusanagi just folded his arms while Kanoe muttered something to Yuuto that made him smirk and the rest of the cast waited for further instructions. "Okay!" Fuuma cried, jumping up onto the stage on a sudden rush of enthusiasm. "I wanna finish Act Two tonight, if that's cool with all of you?" There were noises of agreement. "Awesome, we'll take it from…" He had to get back down from the stage to consult his script. "You know what? The top," he said to Kamui, Yuzuriha, Kanoe and Sorata, but focusing most of his attention on Arashi. She nodded, staring so hard at Fuuma she didn't see Sorata's attempts to catch her eye.

"Cool, places please!" Fuuma said, flinging himself into a seat in the front row of the center section. "Natalie, remember you're entering from the corner downstage left!" Nataku sat down beside him, already looking bored, while everyone who wasn't supposed to be on stage followed suit, looking excited. Kamui sat down on the couch and Yuzuriha took her place in front of the stage. "All right, let me see it!"

The scene began, and the movement classes and afternoon break had clearly done them good: the energy was much higher, the dialogue more genuine and the chemistry more intense. Kanoe kissed Kamui goodnight after their scene together, then exited through the audience as Fuuma had instructed. "Good night," said Kamui, fondly. "Sleep well." He stood up. "Sleep well." He stretched and left the stage too.

"Fucking excellent," Fuuma said, with enormous satisfaction, and Nataku actually made a noise that might have been agreement. Arashi then led Sorata on stage for the start of their scene, and goosebumps erupted up Fuuma's arms as she began speaking her lines with much more conviction and clarity, as Sorata obviously felt more comfortable and relaxed to play off of her.

"Wow," Fuuma heard Karen whisper from her seat behind him. He smirked, his eyes fixing hungrily upon the stage.

"Are you superstitious?" Sorata asked Arashi in a low voice, once they were both standing side by side downstage.

"Yes," she replied, turning and taking a sharp breath in at finding him so close to her. The tension between them, indeed in the whole room, tightened almost painfully. Fuuma's focus was laser precise on Sorata and Arashi as they looked at each other. Would she kiss him again, or just wait? Sorata seemed to be wondering the same thing, because he subconsciously leaned in closer, his lips parted hopefully. However, he caught himself, and instead just reached for a strand of her hair as per the original stage direction.

"It's crazy," he said, locking eyes with Arashi and bringing her hair up to his lips. "You're fantastic." His voice throbbed with longing. "You have beautiful eyes, even though it's dark in this room…" His voice trailed away, and for a moment they just looked at each other as one might look over a ledge a hundred feet above the ground.

"You can see better here," said Arashi, taking hold of the hand entwined in her hair. Sorata watched her disentangle his fingers and followed her upstage. She faced him, and he inhaled shakily.

"I love your eyes, I love the way you move," he said, the words spilling out of him, out of his control. "Seriously, I dream about it, about you!" Arashi turned away just in time to miss Sorata leaning forward to kiss her and catching only the air he seemed unable to breathe. He closed his eyes and let out the softest of longing moans, and though it was barely audible, everyone heard it.

"Oh fuck," whispered Karen, and Fuuma's lip curled.

"When you say things like that, I want to," but Arashi broke off, and Sorata tilted his head to the side in another false start to a kiss. Arashi turned so they faced each other, their sides to the audience, and Fuuma could already picture them backlit by the warm, soft glow of a table lamp while everything else was in shadow. "I want to laugh!" And indeed she seemed ready to burst into laughter, or tears, or both. "Even though it's terrifying…" She took hold of the sides of Sorata's face. "Shut up!" she begged him, desperately. Sorata wrapped his arms around her waist and pulled her flush up against him. "Please shut up!" Arashi moaned, but then she finally kissed him on the lips. It was a stage direction Fuuma had given them at the start, but it was the first time it had actually felt natural, and the audience was hit with a tidal wave of emotion. "Except don't, don't stop, I don't care!" And they were kissing again, so passionately that Sorata lifted Arashi off her feet. Fuuma hadn't given them that direction, but fuck if he didn't adore it, and as much as he hated to shatter the moment,

"Young!" Sorata and Arashi broke apart, and seemed to realize at the same time that they were on stage. They looked to Fuuma, cheeks flushed and eyes wide. "Spin her around and lay her on the dining table!" Arashi gasped as Sorata squeezed her tighter.

"Sorry!"

"It's okay, do it," she muttered. Sorata carried her across the stage and lay her down on the dining table, her legs spreading around him and hair fanning out on either side of her.

"I fucking love it," Fuuma said, his heart pounding, pumping blood and heat and energy through his whole body. "Keep going!" Sorata and Arashi exchanged a brief look, then started kissing again, and she even wrapped her leg around his waist. "Upstage leg!" Fuuma called, and she switched. "That's your cue, isn't it?" Fuuma asked, turning in his seat to address Karen and Kakyo, who looked confused for a moment, but then,

"Oh shit!" Karen exclaimed. "You're right, I'm so sorry!" She scrambled out of her seat with Kakyo behind her. His face was burning as they hurried up the aisle into the wings upstage left. Karen banged on the wall in lieu of a car horn or whatever they'd put in during tech, and Sorata and Arashi broke apart at once, exclaiming and swearing as they scrambled off the table and away from each other, eyes closed and breathing hard. "I'm so tired!" Karen groaned as she entered with Kakyo, who was watching her with the same expression he'd worn when Hokuto had left the theater earlier. "Thank you for bringing me home, though."

"I'm always happy to bring you home," Kakyo replied, as breezily as he could. "I'll do it every night. Ten, twenty years-"

"Stop a second," Fuuma said, on a sudden inspiration. "Can you guys actually start back here?" He indicated the corner downstage left. "And say those lines as you walk along the side of the stage?"

"What line should we enter on?" Karen asked.

"Um…" Fuuma consulted his script, though he was now having trouble focusing. "Enter just before Transeau says 'Good evening to you!' That makes way more sense anyway." Karen and Kakyo got down from the stage and walked back towards Fuuma. "There's good," he said. They stopped and faced the stage, and Fuuma looked expectantly up at Sorata and Arashi. Without making eye contact, they got back into position at the dining table, and though their energy had quieted somewhat, Fuuma's heart still skipped excitedly. "Start again from your line, Irene."

"I'm so tired," Karen told Kakyo in the same exhausted moan as they walked together along the side of the stage. "Thank you for bringing me home, though."

"I'm always happy to bring you home," Kakyo replied, and though he was facing away from him, Fuuma knew he was watching Sorata and Arashi kiss.

"Focus on Irene, the person speaking to you, please, Transeau," Fuuma called, and Kakyo disguised his embarrassed cry in a cough before continuing his line.

"I'll do it every night. Ten, twenty years, I don't care, until you tell me to fuck off." They climbed up into the wings, and Sorata and Arashi broke apart and scrambled off the table and away from each other before Karen and Kakyo entered upstage left. "Good evening to you," Kakyo said, with a sardonic smile, and the audience laughed. Sorata sank onto the sofa while Arashi just leaned against the dining table with her arms folded, looking anywhere but at Sorata.

"I'm so glad to be home," Karen said in another exhausted groan, sitting down in the armchair as though nothing were amiss. "We have this new hire who I'm supposed to be training and she's worthless," she continued, addressing Arashi, who just raised an eyebrow, clearly demanding to know why Karen thought she gave a fuck. "She wanted to stay late to finish this project, but she kept fucking it up so I had to stay late and help her. She started crying towards the end, and I snapped at her." Karen rested her elbow on the arm of the chair and leaned her head into her hand, her eyes falling closed. "I sounded like such an asshole," she reflected, simultaneously weary, regretful and awed. Kakyo crossed the stage to stand beside her chair. "Has the parade gone by yet?" She opened her eyes, and Arashi stared incredulously back at her for a moment.

"No, but it should do soon," she said, coldly. For the first time it actually felt sincere, and a broad grin spread across Fuuma's face as the lines continued. Kusanagi heaved himself out of his seat and took his place in the wings upstage left, then wrapped on the wall smartly with his knuckles.

"That's the doctor, I think," Karen said to Kakyo. "Can you answer it? I can't move, I'm too tired." Kakyo gave her a soft, affectionate smile and hurried into the wings. "We need to do something about him," Karen said to Arashi, very seriously. "He and Andrew went to a casino yesterday and lost, like, a thousand bucks." Arashi looked up, at last caring about what Karen had to say. "He did the same thing two weeks ago," said Karen, her gaze suddenly cold and her tone bitter as she looked out over the audience. Sorata, who had remained silent (though had tried periodically to catch Arashi's eye only to be ignored) shifted uncomfortably in his seat. "And in December," Karen said, still bitter. She shook her head. "Maybe if we lost everything, we could just pick up and leave," she mused, her tone now taking on a weirdly hopeful note. "I swear to god, I dream about New York every night, it's a fucking problem at this point." She laughed rather helplessly. "We'll move there at the end of the summer," she said, in a would be decisive voice. Arashi snorted.

"I hope Natalie doesn't find out how much money Andrew lost," she said, and it was clear from her tone that she'd have no problem telling her if she happened to ask. Sorata watched her out of the corner of his eye, but still said nothing.

"She doesn't give a shit," Karen said, dismissively, before finally turning to Sorata. "You're so quiet, Colonel." Sorata started, then sighed and ran his fingers through his hair.

"I know, I'm sorry. I'd like some tea, I think. I should probably eat something too," he said, trying and failing to catch Arashi's eye again.

"Irene!" Kusanagi cried, entering from upstage left with Kakyo behind him, and the lines dissolved into another pseudo-philosophical discussion. In the audience, Yuzuriha and Keiichi were looking at their scripts while Subaru and Kamui were side by side two rows behind Fuuma, leaning up against each other. Stage right, Yuuto and Kanoe were holding hands again, occasionally whispering to each other.

"I'm convinced there is no happiness, there won't be for any of us, so we should just keep going and working. The happiness is for the people who come after us," proclaimed Sorata, having properly joined the conversation despite Arashi still ignoring him.

"So no one's supposed to try and be happy?" Kakyo asked. "What if I told you I am happy?"

"No," Sorata replied, flatly. Yuzuriha and Keiichi got up for their cue. Out of the corner of his eye, Fuuma saw Kamui place his hand on Subaru's knee.

'Oh god, here we go,' he thought, though he was grinning. The energy in the room was still stirring and simmering, and he felt weirdly distracted from the play because of it. He wished Seishiro were waiting for him back at the house, or would at least text him back. He carefully slid his phone an inch or so out of his pocket, and his heart skipped at a message. He knew Nataku was watching, but he didn't care as he took out his phone and laid it face down between his legs on the seat. He heard a soft gasp from behind him.

"Good morning! I'll say, 'good morning, Maddox!' He'll just give me that look," Yuzuriha was saying to Keiichi as they entered together. "You probably think it's just the mom in me talking," she continued, something genuinely loving sneaking between the cracks of her self-importance. Keiichi just stood watching her. With his legs planted hip width apart and his hands in his pockets, he looked like a bouncer. "But no! He's special, I'm sure."

"If that baby were mine, I'd fry him in a pan and eat him," Keiichi told her, before snatching an invisible drink from the dining table and striding across the stage. A few people stifled snorts despite their best efforts to remain composed, and the scene's tension broke immediately. Fuuma took advantage of the distraction to read Seishiro's message.

'Not at all, you saw me come before' Fuuma closed his eyes, the energy inside him suddenly hot and frustrating.

"If Jepsen can't say that line without you all laughing I'm cutting it," Fuuma told his cast before replying to Seishiro.

'I'll let you come again tonight if you ruin it'

"Sorry, Fuuma!" Keiichi called.

"It's not your fault," Fuuma assured him, with a warning look at everyone else. "Keep going."

"Don't be disgusting!" Yuzuriha snapped, and the scene continued. The lines swirled around Fuuma, who felt much more aware of how tightly he was gripping his phone, of how fast his heart was pounding and of another soft gasp from behind him than of anything happening on stage. It was only after Young received a call about his wife that Fuuma's attention finally refocused.

"Hello?" asked Sorata, pretending to hold a phone to his ear and rushing downstage. Everyone else, even Arashi, stopped what they were doing to watch. "Oh god… I'll be right there." He pretended to end the call. "I've gotta go, I'm sorry," he said, loudly to the room at large, then, to Kanoe, "I won't have any coffee, thank you, though."

"What happened?" Arashi asked, reaching for his arm in spite of herself. Sorata sighed and led her away, upstage towards the door.

"My wife," he said, worry in his voice and guilt all over his face. "I'm sorry." And with that, he departed, leaving Arashi standing alone and clearly shaken.

"Where's he off to?" Kanoe asked, watching him go.

"Will you shut up?!" Arashi snapped. "You're always nagging us!"

"Sweetheart, why are you raising your voice at me?" Kanoe asked her, more concerned than hurt. "I…" However, her voice just trailed away, leaving the line unfinished rather than interrupted. Everyone looked at Kamui, still sequestered in the audience with Subaru. The energy inside Fuuma grew hot again.

"Andrew?" he asked, very sarcastically, and Kamui swore and jumped out of his seat.

"Annemarie!" he called.

"Did someone call me?" Kanoe asked.

"Andrew," Karen replied.

"Oh dear, what now," Kanoe sighed.

"Exit downstage right," Fuuma called, listening to Kamui scramble through the row to go meet her. He chanced a glance at Subaru, who was rather pink in the face, but otherwise composed. He gave Fuuma a would be reassuring smile and busied himself with his script. Kanoe took her exit, muttering to herself, and a moment's silence passed.

"Why are you all on your phones?!" Arashi burst out, the hand not holding her script balled into a fist. "Aren't we supposed to be talking?!" Fuuma felt her anger like he'd just touched a hot surface right as his own phone vibrated against his palm.

"Okay what the fuck is your problem?" Karen demanded.

'You can't wait until I come up there next weekend? And you call me shameful…' Fuuma closed his eyes, his heart skipping, stoking the fire inside him.

"I don't have a problem! Don't touch me!" Arashi cried, jerking her arm away from Karen. "Don't look at me right now!"

'you ARE shameful' Fuuma replied, then, for good measure, 'I had one cast member feeling up another behind me during rehearsal just now, movement classes got everyone feeling some type of way'

"Don't touch her! Don't look at her!" Kusanagi cried in mock caution.

"Shut up!" Arashi snapped, rounding on him. "You're an old man but you act like a snotty little boy!"

"I didn't realize this play was about Seishiro," Nataku said, quietly, and Fuuma actually allowed him a laugh, but then his phone went off again and he checked it at once. Nataku raised his eyebrows.

'I can't wait to meet everyone' Now Fuuma raised his eyebrows: the sarcasm in the text practically slapped him across the face.

"Maudie," came Yuzuriha's voice, patiently. "Why are you being so rude in polite company? You're way too beautiful to use language like that. Doesn't your husband tell you so?" Arashi gave her a venomous look and her fist clenched as though she was resisting the urge to punch her. Fortunately, Yuzuriha didn't seem to notice, and replied with some incorrect French that made Kakyo laugh.

'but in all seriousness you're actually coming up here next weekend?' Fuuma texted Seishiro, after a moment.

"You always sit by yourself and go all introspective on me," Kakyo said, approaching Keiichi. "Be cool with me. Here, have some cognac."

"Be cool?" Keiichi asked, pulling a face. "What, did we have issues?"

"I always feel like you're mad at me," Kakyo explained. "Is that just you being weird?" He was blushing, and Fuuma was positive he'd been asked the same question himself.

"People who aren't weird are just people you don't know very well," Keiichi replied. "I'm fine when I'm one on one with somebody, but once more people show up I get all broody and awkward and talk all sorts of shit." He looked down for a moment, as though he might be regretting creating his own loneliness, but then, "I'm still a better person than most of the people here though, believe that." Kakyo snorted with laughter.

"You piss me off a lot of the time, but I find myself weirdly attached to you," he told Keiichi. "Fuck it, let's drink!"

"Let's drink!" Fuuma felt his phone go off and checked it, his lip curling.

'I just told you I was. Not this weekend but the weekend after'

"Tch…" muttered Fuuma. 'okay I'm just tryna figure out when I'm gonna fix your fucking screens' 'Shit I still actually need to do that,' he thought, watching Kamui enter downstage right without catching anyone's attention.

"I'll make chekhartma," Kusanagi told Karen. "This soup I make with chicken."

"Cheremsha isn't meat," Keiichi interrupted, from across the stage. "It's like an onion."

"No sir, chekhartma is not an onion," Kusanagi replied, patiently.

"Cheremsha's an onion," Keiichi said, unfazed.

"Chekhartma's not an onion."

"Cheremsha's an onion."

"Why am I arguing with you about this?!" Kusanagi demanded, exasperated. "I know for a fact you've never tried chekhartma, where would you have had it?!"

"I've tried it and it tastes disgusting," Keiichi shot back.

"Will you two shut up?!" Kamui burst out, suddenly. "For fuck's sake!" Subaru let out a soft, affectionate laugh and Fuuma's phone went off again.

'Do you still want to watch me ruin an orgasm later?' Fuuma smiled at the message almost tenderly.

"When is the parade coming through?" Kakyo asked.

"Supposedly around nine," Karen replied, checking her phone. "So they should be here any second."

"Fuck it, drink with us, Andrew!" Kakyo cried, throwing his arm around Kamui's shoulders, and he closed his eyes and took a deep breath in through his nose.

'yeah~'

"We'll toast to still being friends and to me coming to New York with you, to the university!"

"Which one?" Keiichi asked, unable to resist instigating.

"The most important one," Kamui replied, as though it were obvious.

"Okay, which one?"

"I just told you!"

"You know what?" Keiichi snapped. "If you don't actually want to have a conversation, I'll stop talking." He mimed slamming a glass on the end table. "I'll leave!" And with that, he was out the door. Everyone watched him go and a moment of stunned, awkward silence passed, then Kakyo burst into laughter.

"I… Fucking love it," he said, and everyone else joined in laughing. "We need music. Here!"

'text me when you're done' Fuuma gave his phone another tender smile. His mind, barely cognizant of his surroundings as it was, immediately jumped to Seishiro on Facetime. He checked how many pages were left of the scene and sighed in relief.

"Relax yourself," muttered Nataku. Fuuma ignored him, texting Seishiro,

'cool'

"Excuse me? What about the parade?" Karen asked, on stage, looking bewildered as all of her guests were suddenly preparing to leave after being asked to do so by Yuzuriha.

"Don't worry about it," Kamui told her, clearly mortified. "Um, Natalie says Maddox is sick, so…" Karen just looked back at him in utter disbelief, and he swallowed. "Basically I don't know and I don't care!" Karen said nothing for a moment, then shrugged.

"Maddox is sick!" she said, in an "it can't be helped!" sort of way.

"Now we've fucked up! We're being thrown out!" Arashi cried, sarcastically, then added to Karen in an undertone, "it's not Maddox who's sick, it's her. Here," she tapped her forehead. "Poor white trash thinking she's suddenly such hot shit." Karen gave her a warning look, which she ignored. "Whatever! We'll see the parade ourselves!" She and Kakyo followed Kamui and Kusanagi out the door and said goodbye in the wings.

"Come through the audience!" Fuuma called, finally putting his phone away. Arashi and Kakyo exited downstage left, talking among themselves. Kusanagi and Karen mimed clearing the table while Kamui dashed off upstage right. "Irene, exit downstage left!" Karen did so, leaving Kusanagi alone center stage for a second before Kamui hurried back to join him.

"I never got the chance to get married," Kusanagi said, as though continuing a conversation they'd been having. "My life was moving too fast and I was too in love with your mother, even though she was already married."

"Good," Kamui replied, grumpily. "Getting married is a mistake." Kusanagi rolled his eyes behind Kamui's back.

"Maybe so, but then you'll end up lonely. Loneliness is painful, let me tell you, but, no, never mind. It doesn't matter!" Kamui, who wasn't listening, said,

"Hurry the fuck up and let's go!"

"Relax, it's still early," Kusanagi said, bracingly. Kamui glared back at him defiantly for a moment, but then blushed.

"I just don't want my wife to see me," he muttered, uncomfortably.

"Ah, I see," Kusanagi replied, nodding and clapping Kamui on the shoulder.

"I'll just watch, I won't actually play," said Kamui, still muttering uncomfortably. He took a few deep breaths and ran his fingers through his hair. "Fuck I feel sick all of a sudden." He kept drawing labored breaths, looking concernedly out over the audience, then up at Kusanagi. "Doctor, what do you do for shortness of breath?"

"You ask like I'll actually have an answer for you," Kusanagi replied, simply. Kamui rolled his eyes.

"Whatever, let's leave through the kitchen." They did so, carefully stepping around Keiichi, who was getting into place for his entrance, just as Karen reentered from downstage left, gazing about rather sadly. She walked slowly upstage and sank onto the couch, placing her elbow on the armrest and leaning her head into her hand, looking exhausted. A few moments passed in silent stillness, aside from Subaru and Yuuto taking their places for their own entrances. The energy seemed to settle, but then Keiichi strode on stage, looking bewildered to find Karen sitting alone.

"Where is everyone?"

"They left," Karen said, without looking at him.

"That's weird," Keiichi said, his brow furrowing as he stared at Karen across the stage. "They left you all by yourself?"

"All by myself." Neither of them said anything for a moment, but then she looked at Keiichi out of the corner of her eye. "Goodbye." Keiichi hesitated, then started walking towards her.

"I was acting crazy before, and I'm sorry," he said, very seriously. Karen rolled her eyes. "You're different though, from the rest," Keiichi continued, his voice lowering. Karen rolled her eyes again. "You're real, and you see through other people's bullshit, so I think…" He came to stand right beside the couch and Karen made a deeply contemptuous noise. "I think you might actually be able to understand me." Karen finally looked him full in the face.

"Goodbye." Undeterred, Keiichi sat beside her, but she immediately moved away.

"I can't live without you, for fuck's sake! Your eyes! I've never seen anything like them!" Karen sprang to her feet, a look of horrified incredulity on her face. "I can't stop thinking about them!"

"Stop it," Karen snapped, but Keiichi just slid down the couch and seized her hand. Karen stared down at him, utterly disgusted.

"This is the first time I'm talking to you out of love instead of," Keiichi broke off and squeezed her hand, trying to find the words. "Whatever the fuck it usually is, and it's fucking weird but…" He stood up, still holding tight to Karen's hand, and she took a step backwards, looking more perplexed and disgusted than ever. Once again Fuuma felt his focus anchor into the scene in front of him, to the intensity of their exchange. "It doesn't matter, I can't force your feelings," he said in a low voice, his eyes fixed darkly upon Karen's. "But I can't let anyone else have them! I'd kill any rival for you, Irene!" Fuuma shivered as Karen yanked her hand out of Keiichi's grip. However, before she could say anything else, Yuzuriha reentered the stage, shattering the tension like glass.

"Oh, I'm so sorry!" she cried, mortified. "I didn't know you were here!" Keiichi gave her a deeply disdainful smile.

"I do not give a single fuck," he told her, his tone matching his expression. "Goodbye!" With one last look at Karen, he exited upstage left.

"At least slam a door, come on!" Fuuma cried, and Keiichi banged on the wall. Fuuma smirked and, feeling his focus disengage again, retrieved his phone from his bag to text Seishiro.

'this show is gonna be so much better than last year, I can't wait to show you'

"And you look exhausted, poor thing!" Yuzuriha was saying to Karen. "You should have been asleep by now." Fuuma felt the reply in his hand.

'So you keep saying' He rolled his eyes as Yuzuriha asked Karen to move out of her bedroom so her son could have it, then received a text from Nathan, the unseen councilman with whom she was having an affair.

"Nathan? He's such a piece of work," Yuzuriha said, unsuccessfully suppressing a smile. "He wants me to drive with him to watch the parade. Men are so…" She broke off and shrugged at Karen. "Well, you understand." Karen watched her leave upstage right with a look of vague disgust, as though she'd just seen someone throw up. She then sank onto the couch again, rubbing her temples.

"I thought there was a party going on?" Came Yuuto's voice from upstage left where he entered with Subaru and Sorata. The dialogue continued, Sorata assuring everyone that his wife was okay, Subaru and Karen going on about how tired they were and Yuuto being oblivious to everyone but himself. Fuuma's mind slipped right back to Seishiro. Soon he'd be back in his apartment, waiting for Fuuma to finish rehearsal. He imagined him lying in bed with his laptop, still in his work clothes but without his tie and jacket. Fuuma's lip curled. He'd been in Seishiro's apartment a few times, and it always reminded him of visiting friends whose parents thought he was a bad influence.

"They've left me all by myself," Karen said, sardonically, watching Subaru exit.

"Exit downstage!" Fuuma said, suddenly, realizing he'd missed the entire end of the scene.

"Left or right?" Subaru asked, turning to face him.

"I don't care," Fuuma replied, just wanting the scene to end. Subaru raised his eyebrows, but said nothing and exited downstage left to sit in the front row beside Kamui. "Keep going!" Yuzuriha entered from upstage right, catching sight of Karen still sitting on the couch. She hesitated a moment.

"I'll be back in a half hour, I'm just going for a drive," she said, before exiting. Karen sighed heavily and heaved herself off the couch. A moment's silence passed, and then she sang, in a low, husky voice,

"I'm in a New York, state of mind…" Immediately the rest of the cast broke into applause, and Karen smiled and bowed.

"I keep forgetting she can sing," Nataku said, under his breath.

"It keeps getting better!" Fuuma said, ignoring him and smiling around at his cast. "Take ten and then let me see Act Two again, please." There was a collective sigh as everyone relaxed and engaged someone in conversation or just reached for their phone. "Could you get me some coffee, please?" Fuuma asked Nataku.

"I was just gonna offer," he replied, sarcastically. "Maybe you'll actually pay attention this time?"

"Here's hoping!" he replied, though he had to admit Nataku had a point. He sent Seishiro one last text,

'I won't be done for another few hours, but if you wanna start right when you get home, you can' He put his phone back in his bag without waiting for a reply, determined to focus on the stage.

For the rest of rehearsal, his determination proved successful, and they were able to run Act Two much faster for it. A little after 7 PM, he decided to call it a night, telling everyone except Kusanagi to show up the following day at 4 to work on Act Three. "Thank you all very much, have a good night!" And with that, Fuuma got to his feet, shoved his script in his bag and threw it over his shoulder. Nataku sighed and got to his feet too, looking to Fuuma for instructions. "You don't need to be here until the evening," he said, quietly. "I mean, unless you wanna help build the set." Nataku raised his eyebrows.

"Are you going to help build the set?" he asked, politely incredulous. Fuuma laughed softly, his eyes straying to Subaru and Kamui leaving together ahead of everyone else.

"Yeah," he replied, watching Kamui put his hand on Subaru's lower back. "Plus I need screws, if I ask Kusanagi nicely and help him build stairs he might lend me some."

"Ah." Nataku followed his gaze with narrowed eyes.

"But yeah," Fuuma continued, focusing again on Nataku. "If you wanna come hang out, sure. Satsuki's gonna be there too. Otherwise I'll see you at four." Nataku nodded.

"Good night!" Karen called, walking past with Kakyo, who waved. Fuuma gave them a gracious nod before his eyes fixed upon Yuzuriha, who seemed caught between walking back to the dorm with Arashi or waiting around for Kusanagi. Across the room, Sorata seemed to be making a similar decision.

"You won't really cut that line, will you?" Came Keiichi's voice, suddenly, from Fuuma's other side. He turned, and was taken aback to see him looking so anxious.

"Nah, don't worry," he said, clapping him reassuringly on the shoulder. "I just said that to get them to focus." Keiichi's face flushed with relief and he pressed his hand to his chest.

"Okay cool, I was terrified for a second!"

"Nah, I got you," Fuuma told him, squeezing his shoulder. Keiichi shook his head as if to clear it, then smiled warmly at Fuuma.

"Awesome. See you tomorrow!" He gave Nataku a smile too before hurrying back out of the aisle and over to Sorata, apparently waiting for him after Arashi had left with Yuzuriha. Fuuma's brow furrowed as he spotted Kusanagi, absorbed in conversation with Yuuto and Kanoe.

"Hurry the fuck up and get out of here, Nataku's gotta close up!" Fuuma called, finally starting to make his way out of the theater. The three of them exchanged a look and followed Fuuma and Nataku into the lobby.

"You guys go ahead," Nataku said, and Fuuma, Kusanagi, Yuuto and Kanoe bid him goodnight and went back outside.

The sun was setting behind the trees surrounding the property, and the sudden hot stickiness took them all by surprise after so long in the air conditioned theater. Fuuma took a deep breath in and sighed it out, the heat in the air reawakening the heat in his body.

"Are you heading straight home?" Yuuto asked Kusanagi, who nodded.

"I need sleep if I have to build stairs tomorrow," he replied, with a sideways glance at Fuuma.

"I'll be there to help you," he said. "It's the least I can do."

"Shut your goddamn mouth," Kusanagi replied, before nodding to Yuuto and Kanoe and returning to his truck. Kanoe snorted with laughter and took Yuuto's hand.

"Tired?" he asked her, and she smiled a telling smile as she nodded.

"I'll see you guys tomorrow," said Fuuma.

"Yes, yes," Kanoe replied, lazily, and Yuuto gave Fuuma one last nod before leading her back across the parking lot. Fuuma watched them get into the car, watched it drive away, watched the bright red taillights glow in the blue and orange evening.

He then made his way back to his own car, sending a "get ready" text to Seishiro before starting the engine and putting on music. High time we made a stand and shook up the views of the common man…

He laughed and put the car in gear, knowing a rush of excitement from deep inside at Seishiro in a few minutes, of rehearsal tomorrow, of tech and opening night in the ever approaching future.

Sowing the seeds of love… Seeds of love…

Chapter Text

"Who the fuck wired this?" Satsuki asked, impatiently. It was the first day of tech, and she was sitting cross legged on the stage, holding the Perspicuo's end table lamp, its wiry innards spilling into her lap. Kusanagi, who was repairing one of the legs on the old couch, looked over his shoulder.

"I have no idea," he said, frowning. "Whoever used it last summer, probably." Satsuki held up the lamp to Fuuma, who was there to help and supervise, but he just shrugged.

"I can fix it," said Satsuki, reassembling the lamp and getting to her feet. "I just need to go to the hardware store."

"We can't just use a different lamp from the prop warehouse?" Nataku asked, wearily.

"And if that wiring's shot too?" countered Satsuki.

"Just go buy what you need, we'll expense it," said Fuuma, unconcernedly. Satsuki sighed, set the lamp back on the end table and straightened her glasses.

"I'll go get my bike-"

"I can drive you over there, if you want," Yuuto put in from his seat in the audience. He'd driven Kanoe to her costume fitting an hour before his call, then hung around the Igarashi with the vague idea of making himself useful. Unfortunately, he wasn't nearly as skilled a carpenter or electrician as he was an actor, so he'd spent most of the time on his cellphone. Or watching Satsuki put Fuuma in his place.

"Are you sure?" Satsuki asked, after a moment, though she was still staring at the lamp.

"Of course!" Satsuki's heart squeezed in her chest.

"That'd be great, thanks," she replied, without looking at him.

"I'll see you guys soon then," Fuuma said, lightly, and Yuuto and Satsuki left the theater together. Fuuma smirked and watched them go until Kusanagi asked, loudly,

"We're starting with Act One today, right?"

"Yeah."

"Help me put the couch where it belongs then, please?"

"My bad." Fuuma and Kusanagi bent down to get a grip on the couch's wooden frame. "One, two, three!" They lifted it easily and moved it back into position, then Fuuma stepped away to admire the set. The same furniture and props they'd been using were on stage, but now two sets of stairs adorned the downstage corners, the wings had been painted a creamy white and an LCD screen was set up between them with a wooden window frame in front of it. The screen was off at the moment, but when it was turned on it would flood the stage with diffuse light, the color of which could be changed depending on the scene. "I'm pleased," Fuuma said, decisively, crossing his arms in front of his chest.

"Hm," replied Kusanagi, coming to stand beside him.

"You can be excited, it's okay," said Fuuma. He tried to shove Kusanagi playfully, but it was like running into a wet sandbag. Kusanagi snorted, shoved Fuuma back and sent him flying.

"Yeah yeah. I brought those screws you need, by the way. They're in my bag.

"You're the fucking best!"

"Are you sure you want to wear these shoes the whole show?" Hokuto asked Kanoe, her brow furrowed as she pinned up the hem of her simple ecru dress.

"That is why I brought them," she replied, rolling her eyes at Kakyo, who was perched on a sewing table across the room.

"Watch your tone or I'll throw in some acupuncture," Hokuto shot back, and Kanoe and Kakyo laughed. She wanted to add, "Your feet are going to hate you and it doesn't really make sense for the Perspicuo's nanny to wear four inch heels," but instead said, "If you're sure!" Although Hokuto had final say in what everyone wore, she knew when to pick her battles. She'd learned that the hard way in her high school's drama club, though she'd been on the other side of it: the self appointed (and totally incapable) costume designer had tried to force her into a revolting green velour dress for her role as Mina Harker in Dracula. She'd obviously failed miserably and Hokuto had worn a dress she'd made herself, but the experience was enough for her to decide she'd rather do costumes than perform. She smirked as she remembered joking with Subaru throughout that show that they'd both get reputations for being difficult to work with; her for the costume situation and Subaru for point blank refusing the part of Dracula, even though he'd been first pick. Indeed, Hokuto only ended up playing Mina after Subaru had said he'd never be able to pull off a vampire and was cast as Dr. Van Helsing instead. "Okay, you're all set," Hokuto told Kanoe, adding the last pin before getting to her feet and stretching.

"Thank you," Kanoe said, smiling and unzipping the dress. Kakyo averted his eyes. "Honey this is theater, get used to it!" she laughed, now in just a flattering silky slip, as she stepped out of her costume and handed it to Hokuto, who laid it carefully on the ironing board she'd set up next to the sewing table. "I do like the costumes this year, though," Kanoe said, putting the dress she'd arrived in back on.

"Thank you," Hokuto replied, smiling at the wrack across the room from which everyone's outfits were hanging. "What I'm doing for the other shows is way more exciting, though." Yuzuriha's pale pink dresses and coat stood out against the mass of black, grey, navy and dark green. However, Hokuto wasn't sorry about this: every show was different, and though she had a flair for the dramatic, keeping things simple presented different challenges.

"I'm sure, but you know what Fuuma's like," said Kanoe, sympathetically.

"People wanna fucking hide behind sets and costumes," Hokuto said in her best imitation of him. Kakyo and Kanoe snorted with laughter. Hokuto grinned at Kakyo, and he returned her smile, apparently ready to rejoin the conversation now that Kanoe was fully dressed again. "He's right though," Hokuto conceded, thoughtfully. "We've all seen shows that are all style and no substance. I'd rather have that than the opposite, though."

"Can you have substance without style?" Kakyo asked.

"You have met my brother, right?" Hokuto countered, and Kakyo covered his mouth against his burst of laughter while Kanoe made no effort to hide hers. "I'm his sister, I'm allowed to say that," Hokuto informed them, composedly.

"He is gorgeous though," Kanoe said, thoughtfully. Quick as a flash, Hokuto seized a pair of scissors from her cutting table and pointed them at Kanoe, who drew back at once, her hands up as though surrendering.

"Try it," Hokuto said, smiling threateningly. Kanoe placed one hand on the scissors and pressed them out of her face.

"So Kamui's okay but not me and Yuuto?"

"Correct," Hoktuo replied, completely unabashed, and again Kakyo covered his mouth against his laughter. Both women turned to him, and he blushed.

"If you say so. I'm heading back to the theater," Kanoe said, picking up her bag.

"See you in a bit," Hokuto replied, then added to Kakyo, "Could you plug in that iron for me, please?" Kakyo did so while Kanoe headed out the door, smiling and waving over her shoulder. Hokuto arranged the dress so the pinned hem was in the middle of the ironing board, taking care that nothing touched the floor. "Hand me the iron?" Kakyo obeyed, watching her long, delicate fingers wrap around the handle and noticing, not for the first time, how much bigger his own were. Hokuto checked the setting on the iron, then pressed it against the pinned hem of the dress. A puff of steam sputtered up from beneath it.

"Why do you do that?" Kakyo asked, watching her caress and smooth the fabric.

"To make sure the hem won't move around on me when I put it through the machine," she explained, smiling at him briefly in between shifting the fabric. Kakyo flushed softly, but pressed on.

"So was this what you originally brought me up here for?" he asked, a little playfully.

"Oh probably," she replied. "To be honest, I didn't have any real plan aside from get you out of your apartment and put you to work." Kakyo's flush deepened. Since coming up here, he'd only thought about his apartment, or indeed any other aspect of his life back in New York, at night, staring out of the small window in his dorm room. However, the thoughts didn't preoccupy him or cause him undue anxiety: he was always so tired after rehearsal, so consumed with learning lines and practicing what his voice and movement teachers had taught him that he didn't have space in his brain for much else. Now though, in the morning after a good breakfast, he recalled the apartment he'd left. Though when he'd left it, it had been little more than a dark hovel he hadn't taken proper care of in many years inside a luxurious building on the Upper East Side.

After a year of talking online, hanging out in neutral places and agreeing to come to Clow with Hokuto, he'd finally let her see it. She'd made no comment except that they'd hire a cleaning service to take care of it while he was away, and he couldn't tell if he felt immeasurably grateful or more worthless than he'd ever felt in his life. For the first time since leaving, he wondered what his apartment would look like cleaned up and cared for, but was then flooded with panic at the prospect of going back. "What's up?" Hokuto asked, setting the iron on its end. Another puff of steam gushed out of it, and Kakyo stepped forward to unplug it and put it away.

"Now you have to sew the hem?" he asked, preferring not to answer her question.

"Mmhmm." Hokuto scooped up the dress and sat down in front of one of the many sewing machines set up throughout the room. Kakyo hadn't known anything about costumes, or about sewing in any capacity, until he'd met Hokuto, and most of it still went right over his head. Despite not feeling worthy of participating in the conversations, Kakyo loved hearing Hokuto talk about costuming. He loved her passion and her excitement and her knowledge, but he really loved that it was a welcome relief from talking, thinking and hearing about himself, his issues and his future. "Here, come closer and watch," she said. Kakyo approached her cautiously, his arms around himself.

He'd spent most of his very limited free time this summer with Hokuto, in the living room of their dorm or on the back porch, watching her sketch or sew trim and fine detail by hand. "I can't sew bias tape on machines," she'd said. "It's literally the only thing I'm not good at." He'd also had his own costume fittings, and he'd blushed as she'd taken his measurements and worried he wasn't getting enough to eat. Even though it was her job, he'd been touched by the costume she'd made for him. He hadn't gotten anything handmade since elementary school, when classmates were required to make birthday cards for each other.

Hokuto pressed on the foot pedal and the sewing machine whirred as she guided the fabric through. The needle moved up and down so fast and so terrifyingly close to her fingers it was nerve wracking. However, it didn't faze Hokuto in the slightest, and the tiny stitches appeared in a perfectly straight line. Hokuto was always like that, though, Kakyo thought. Take charge, impossible to intimidate, totally competent and in control. It was completely at odds with Kakyo's own constant feelings of fear, sadness and helplessness, and he found it both overwhelming and reassuring. However, those feelings had definitely abated since he'd been up here, working hard and receiving praise from Fuuma and his castmates.

"Are you off book yet?" Hokuto asked, pausing to adjust the fabric.

"I think so," Kakyo replied, his eyes once more on Hokuto's hands. "Fuuma said he wanted us all off book by tech, so." He smiled softly, thinking of staying up late after rehearsals with Karen and Subaru, how they'd helped him run lines and showed him the best ways to practice on his own. It had taken him completely by surprise how everyone had been so kind and supportive and willing to help. After he'd spent most of his life being told to fend for himself and that it was his fault if he didn't understand something, it was like culture shock. However, everyone was also going on about his "natural ability" all the time, and he doubted very much they'd be as helpful if he didn't have that.

"Of course he did," Hokuto said, putting the fabric back and forth through the machine a few times to finish the hem. She then shut off the machine and cut the thread with the scissors she'd used to threaten Kanoe. "Perfect," she said, standing up and giving the finished dress a little shake before holding it in front of her. She smiled, and Kakyo swallowed, but smiled back.

"Perfect," he agreed.

"This is what we need," Satsuki said, selecting a spool of wire from the wall in front of her. How she could differentiate it from the mass of seemingly identical spools on the wall was a mystery to Yuuto, but then again so was all of this. He'd always appreciated her skill as a lighting designer, but somehow her skill as an electrician was even more impressive. When he'd told her this, she'd just rolled her eyes, insisting that wiring a lamp wasn't actually difficult. However, Yuuto was entirely confident he'd electrocute himself if he tried it.

"Sure!" he agreed, and Satsuki led him back through the hardware store's lighting section towards the check out. Every lamp and bulb for sale seemed to be on, and Satsuki's low ponytail sparkled as it bounced against the back of her neck in the heat and brightness. She got in line at the cashier behind a man in pastel shorts buying charcoal, then paid for the wire with the cash she'd taken from the Igarashi's office.

"Could I have the receipt please?" Yuuto's lip twitched into a smile. Even though Satsuki's tone was light and pleasant, her expression was disdainful as ever. "Thank you." When she beckoned to Yuuto to follow her out of the store, however, something in her face softened. They exited through automatic doors and blinked in the bright, clear sunlight as they made their way towards the car. She could feel his eyes on her and tensed, unsure if it felt good or not. Yuuto unlocked his car and Satsuki got into the passenger's seat. The backs of her thighs not protected by her shorts immediately stuck to the hot leather, and she swore and shifted into a more comfortable position as Yuuto got into the car. He watched her thighs spread against the seat and couldn't help but remember how they'd spread against his kitchen counter, how they'd felt in his hands. "Put on the air conditioning for fuck's sake," she snapped, though her face had retained its softness.

"Sorry," he replied, starting the car at once. He backed them out of the parking space, trying his hardest to stay focused, but the memories were enticing, despite the guilt they brought with them. It had definitely been easier to forget about what he'd done when they were apart, but now they were up against each other at work, everything kept bubbling up to the surface unexpectedly. Then the bubbles would pop, releasing the same unanswerable question into his mind and body: even with all he was allowed to do, how the fuck had he still managed to break a rule?

"How's everything been?" Satsuki asked, her eyes impassive behind her glasses.

"Generally? Or in the show?" Yuuto asked, waiting for the traffic light at the entrance to the parking lot to change.

"Whatever you feel like talking about."

"Ha ha… I have nothing interesting to say on either topic," he replied, despairingly. Satsuki rolled her eyes. He always said stuff like that. "Why don't you tell me something," he continued. He always said stuff like that too. "How's designing the lights for the other shows?" Satsuki sighed as Yuuto turned left onto Route 7.

"It's fine. Teching three shows back to back has been bothersome, but…"

"Bothersome?"

"Bothersome." They got stuck at another red light and Yuuto turned to look her in the face.

"That's," he paused, "unfortunate." Satsuki raised her eyebrows.

"It is." They fell into silence, and Satsuki allowed herself to look him up and down. As a rule, she preferred to only think of him in the abstract, as just a rush of noises and sensations and tastes. This was easy to do when they were at work or apart, but now, one on one like this, she actually observed and appreciated him physically, and remembered individual memories, specific days.

The car behind them honked loudly, making them jump. Yuuto pulled through the intersection, waving in his rearview mirror in apology. "At least you got a break from Fuuma," he offered. Satsuki shrugged and continued to stare at Yuuto, at his eyes fixed upon the road as they wound back into Clow. "From us."

"Go fuck yourself," Satsuki replied, permitting herself to look him up and down again. He was so handsome in all the right ways. She'd thought so from the moment she'd laid eyes on him, talking to Kusanagi and Hokuto at the Igarashi's bar some night of some readthrough. Then of course, she'd found out he was married, and seeing him as an object had just been easier, but then she'd found out about their arrangement.

"Maybe I will," Yuuto replied, giving Satsuki a sideways look out of the corner of his eye. "Unless," but he broke off. Satsuki shifted in her seat.

"Unless what?"

"Unless you want to come play with me and Kanoe again sometime?" he offered, excitement flickering in his eyes despite still being focused on the road. Satsuki stiffened in her seat.

"You told me you'd talk to her about that, are you actually going to, or…?" Yuuto flushed, and Satsuki's lip curled.

"I will. Later today," he said, almost gently. Satsuki's stomach contracted.

"I'm sure." They turned left again and found themselves on the outskirts of Clow, and Yuuto followed the road as it became the main street. People were out and about, walking their dogs, eating breakfast outside cafés and rushing past each other with their phones glued to their ears. Inside the car, the afternoon Yuuto and Satsuki had shared together seemed to hang in the air between them, like it had done at the party. She focused her gaze on Yuuto's profile, his usual easy smile in place except for the tension around his eyes. The warm sunlight picked up the lights in his hair and made his skin shine. Her heart throbbed and her stomach twisted in a weird mix of longing and contempt.

Fortunately, Yuuto drove them down the sweeping hill, then turned right into BTC's parking lot, which distracted her completely. Gravel crunched under his tires as he honked his horn at Yuzuriha, Arashi and Keiichi on their way to the Igarashi, and received smiles and waves in return.

The moment the car stopped, Satsuki jumped out, slammed the door behind her and walked resolutely into the theater. Yuuto made to call out to her, but then thought better of it. He needed to speak to Kanoe first anyway. He shut off the engine, gathered his things and headed into the theater.

The whole cast was assembled on stage, surrounding Hokuto and her wrack of costumes. He spotted Satsuki a little ways away with the lamp, wire and pliers in hand.

"There you are!" Kanoe called, holding her costume over one arm and reaching for him with the other.

"Hey," he said, kissing her. She snuck her free hand around his waist and gave him a squeeze, and his stomach squirmed guiltily.

"Yuuto, get your costume sometime today please?" Nataku called from across the room.

"Sorry!" He gave Kanoe one more kiss before hurrying forward to take the French navy suit from Hokuto.

"Everything should fit, but obviously if something's off let me know and I'll fix it!" cried Hokuto over the excited chatter.

"Thanks, Hokuto," Fuuma said from his usual front row center seat. She ignored him, and once everyone had their costumes, Nataku led them backstage and into their dressing rooms. Two doors slammed in the distance, and the theater fell almost completely silent. Fuuma's eyes snapped to Satsuki, hunched over the lamp, until she finally straightened up. She caught sight of Fuuma, and her eyes widened for a fraction of a second before returning to her usual, bored stare. She set the lamp on the end table and plugged it into the outlet set into the stage. She turned it on, and its glow illuminated her satisfied smile. "You're the best," Fuuma said, loudly. Satsuki rolled her eyes, though she was still smiling as she hopped off the stage. "Hey," Fuuma said, quietly, and she paused on her way up to the lighting booth.

"What?" Fuuma tilted his head to the side.

"Go ahead and get us set up for Act One so we can start right away." Satsuki gave the tiniest of shudders, like a cat after being pet for too long.

"Yeah yeah." And with that, she headed up to the lighting booth.

"Hokuto is so pro," Yuzuriha said, appreciatively, kicking off her shorts to step into a pink and green dress that would have made sense at a high school prom ten years ago. She zipped it up and spun around for Arashi, Karen and Kanoe, who all laughed. "Do I look hot?" she giggled, striking a pose.

"Kamui won't stand a chance," Karen said, zipping up her own dress, a simple, though flattering, shift in silvery grey. Yuzuriha replied with a gagging noise, and the other three laughed again. "At least you guys have chemistry," Karen said, fairly. "Trying to play being in love with someone when there's nothing between you is just horrible." Kanoe and Yuzuriha exchanged nods of solidarity.

"I mean, I have chemistry with everyone," said Kanoe. "But when I'm doing all of the work and they're giving me nothing? Ugh…"

"True," replied Yuzuriha thoughtfully. "I guess years of belligerent friendship will make you feel something." Karen and Kanoe agreed, but Arashi, who had nothing to contribute, just allowed the conversation to continue around her. She slipped on her own costume, a black shirtwaist dress, also simple but flattering. "What about Sorata?"

"What?" Arashi asked, turning to her castmates, all of whom exclaimed over her costume. However, the compliments barely registered. "What about Sorata?"

"I just asked if he's a good kisser," Yuzuriha replied, her tone softening a little. "No pressure to answer, we're just curious and thirsty." She grinned. "He's not my type, but he is cute." Arashi blushed but kept Yuzuriha's gaze.

"It's hard to say," she replied, composedly. "When you're working together it's different."

"Very true," Karen agreed. "It kills me to watch you two though, my goodness."

"For real," Yuzuriha added with a nod.

"What?" Arashi cried, bemusedly, her face burning.

"Oh please," Kanoe said, though she was smirking. "I was impressed, honestly."

"I'll take that as high praise, coming from you," Arashi shot back, totally without meaning to. For a moment the other three just stared at her in stunned silence, but then as one burst into laughter. Arashi joined in, embarrassedly and reluctantly it was true, but from somewhere deep inside she knew a shoot of pride at having conducted herself well. Of course, she had no desire to tell the others that Sorata was, in fact, an amazing kisser, when her MO was and would continue to be to blame it on Maudie's feelings. Besides, it wasn't her first time kissing a romantic opposite on stage.

However, she reminded herself as she stepped into her shoes, it was the first time her opposite number had gotten hard. Or maybe it was just the first time she'd noticed.

"Yo, you look hot," Sorata told Subaru, loudly, from across the dressing room. Subaru finished doing up his shirt and faced Sorata with his arms wide. He was dressed in a black button down and vest with slim fitting wool pants. Keiichi wolf whistled, and everyone except Kakyo burst into laughter. Subaru gave them a sarcastic bow, but then smiled at Sorata.

"Thanks, so do you!" Sorata grinned back, clearly pleased with himself, and reached for his jacket to complete his own costume. He, Keiichi and Kakyo all had the same, vaguely militaristic jacket in navy, dark green and grey. He turned and examined himself in the mirror, flexing his arms.

"Careful, you'll take someone's eye out!" Yuuto scolded through his laughter.

"Fuck outta here, he's not Kusanagi," Kamui interjected as he emerged from the neck of his black turtleneck and shook his hair out of his eyes.

"What's that?" Kusanagi asked, mildly, pulling back the sleeve of his dark grey suit and flexing his forearm. Kakyo watched his castmates burst into more appreciative cheers and laughter, feeling almost like he was watching animals play at a zoo while on the other side of the glass.

"Oh doctor, I think I've caught a chill!" Keiichi cried in a high pitched voice, followed by yet more gales of laughter.

"Real talk though, you could probably deadlift us," Sorata said, thoughtfully.

"What…?" Kakyo asked, in spite of himself, but then Keiichi cut in,

"Let's try it!"

"I'll do it!" Kamui said at once, eyes wide and excited.

"Not in costume," Kusanagi replied, but then Subaru rushed forward.

"It's okay if it's me, Hokuto can deal," he said. Kusanagi raised his eyebrows, clearly unconvinced.

"Do it! Do it!" Sorata, Keiichi and Kamui began to chant, and Kakyo could practically feel the collective common sense draining out of the room. Eventually, Kusanagi sighed and rolled up his other sleeve.

"Good lord. All right, but on your head be it if something tears," he replied. Subaru just waved the words aside.

"Where do you want me?" he asked.

"Hmm… Lie on your stomach."

"Hold up let me get my phone!" Kamui cried, tearing across the room to retrieve it. Subaru got into position in front of Kusanagi while everyone else formed a circle around them.

"Ready?" Kusanagi asked.

"Yes!" Kamui opened his camera and focused on Kusanagi as he bent his knees and grabbed a fistful of Subaru's shirt and the waistband of his pants.

"Here we go." Keeping his back in perfect alignment, Kusanagi slowly straightened his knees to stand tall, lifting Subaru up off the floor. Everyone burst into applause and cheers and yells of, "OH SHIT!" and "YO THAT'S AWESOME!"

"Oh my god this is terrifying!" Subaru cried, staring wide eyed at the floor.

"You all right?" Kusanagi asked, smiling at his audience.

"Yeah but oh my god!"

"Light as a feather, stiff as a board!" Keiichi cried, to more waves of laughter. There was a knock at the door, and everyone turned, Kusanagi pivoting as carefully as he could.

"AH!" cried Subaru.

Yuuto, who was nearest the door, opened it to reveal Nataku on the threshold, looking impatient, but then he spotted Subaru. Everyone hastily stifled giggles. Nataku's brow furrowed as much as it ever did, and, after a moment,

"Hurry up and get changed, we need to get started," he said, obviously deciding to keep his opinion to himself.

"Sorry," Kusanagi said, graciously. "We'll be out in a second."

"Here's hoping," Nataku replied, coldly, turning on his heel and slamming the door behind him. Immediately, everyone dissolved into hysterical laughter, and Kusanagi carefully set Subaru down and helped him to his feet.

"Holy shit that was awesome!" Kamui cried, sprinting over to Subaru and throwing his arms around him.

"Okay, in all seriousness!" Kusanagi called over the noise, shaking hands with Sorata, Yuuto and Keiichi. "Let's go tech this show." Everyone finished getting into their costumes, still talking and joking with each other. Kakyo, who had only taken part in the activity half heartedly, was grateful to return to himself and his costume. He did up the last button on his jacket and faced the mirror, looking at himself in the clothes Hokuto had made for him, and his heart swelled in his chest.

The room emptied gradually as people finished getting dressed, eventually leaving Kamui and Subaru alone. Kamui took Subaru's hand, and after one last look over his shoulder, Subaru kissed him on the lips. Kamui took a sharp breath in through his nose, his body lighting up at once. They'd been doing this ever since their first kiss over lines a week ago, sneaking more kisses between scenes, spending time they both had off together and of course, passing night after night making love. They'd tried to keep whatever it was they were doing as private as possible, and that only made it hotter, regardless of how successful they actually were at it.

"We should probably go before this seems suspect," Kamui breathed, regretfully. Subaru pulled away, nodding.

"Sleep over tonight, though? If today isn't completely exhausting?" Kamui's face lit up.

"Even if it is, I don't give a fuck." Subaru let out a low, excited giggle, then pulled Kamui out of the dressing room. They walked hand in hand down the dark narrow hallway that led to the backstage area behind the LCD screen and wings. The surrounding walls were hung with old black curtains and the prop table sat stage right opposite stacks of folding chairs. They let go of each other's hands as they entered through the wings to join the rest of their castmates, all clustered around Fuuma and Nataku.

"Well you guys all look fucking awesome!" Fuuma exclaimed, his eyes traveling over them all before fixing upon Subaru and Kamui. He grinned, and they tried to look innocent. "We're gonna take it from the top of Act One, if that's cool? Cool. Oh, and while we're teching I'm fine with you guys hanging around and watching, but after this week stay your asses backstage." Everyone nodded, and Fuuma's smile widened as he felt the familiar rush of energy and excitement in his belly and chest. "All right let's go. Places, please!"

"Thank you, places!" Keiichi called, rushing into the wings stage left with Kusanagi and Kakyo. Subaru took his seat at the table while Arashi sat down on the couch. Karen took center stage, and everyone else found places in the audience.

"Ready?" Fuuma called up over his shoulder to the lighting booth, which was no longer glassed in for tech. Satsuki sat in front of a laptop and two switchboards and was surrounded by cabinets and wires and speakers. Behind her, black curtains separated the lighting booth from the rest of the balcony. She felt much better up here, in her dark box full of electronics, for feeling competent and in control. She didn't even notice Yuuto looking in her direction from his seat in the audience, or how nice he looked in his costume. Rather than answer Fuuma, she just turned on the screen. It took a few seconds to warm up, but when it did it bathed the stage in blue white light, clear and cold and diffuse. There was an appreciative, "Oh!" from everyone else, and Satsuki smiled in spite of herself. She killed the house lights, making the effect even more dramatic, and there was another "Oh!" She then pressed three sliders on one switchboard upwards, highlighting Subaru, Arashi and Karen.

"Can you soften that? That's way too harsh," Fuuma called. Satsuki did so, until, "That's perfect."

"Do you want it warmer at all?" she asked, lazily.

"No no, that's good," Fuuma replied, approvingly. His stage really did look like it was in natural light. He grinned up at Satsuki, and she smirked in return. "All right, let me see it," Fuuma said, loudly, and Subaru began.

"Dad died a year ago today, May fifth-"

"Stop."

"Oh god here we go," Satsuki muttered to herself.

"If we do it this way it's gonna take too long," said Fuuma, ignoring his cast exchanging looks. "Let's skip ahead to…" He flipped through his script ostentatiously. "Right…" He finally decided on a page. "Before everyone sits down for lunch. When Kirsch is talking about dinner with the headmaster."

"Today, ladies and gentlemen, is Sunday?" Yuuto asked. Fuuma hastily checked his script.

"Yeah!"

"You want the lights the same?" Satsuki called to Fuuma.

"Yeah so far," he replied, unconcernedly, then, "Dr. Grant, would you please go get the espresso machine and put it on the dining table?" he asked Kusanagi, referring to Dr. Grant's gift to the Perspicuos earlier in the scene. Kusanagi nodded and went backstage to retrieve it. "Also Satsuki? I lied, can you lower the upstage lights just a touch?" Satsuki did so, casting the back of the stage not quite in shadow, but forcing the focus forward.

"Is that too much, or?"

"No that's good. Let's take it from Kirsch's line, please."

"Today, ladies and gentlemen, is Sunday," Yuuto proclaimed. He continued his speech over Kusanagi laughing at him until, "nothing exists without patterns," he stated. "Our lives are the same!" He stepped forward and wrapped his arms around Arashi's waist as per the stage direction, and she automatically looked upstage towards Sorata.

"Maudie, don't," Fuuma interrupted, patiently. "You aren't in love with him yet, remember?"

"What?" Arashi asked, perplexed.

"Don't look at Young when Kirsch hugs you, is what I'm saying." Arashi's eyes widened. She hadn't even realized she'd done that.

"Sorry," she said, looking between Fuuma and Yuuto. Sorata's heart squeezed gently, but he said nothing.

"Keep going," Fuuma said, and Yuuto nosed tenderly against Arashi's hair.

"Maudie loves me, my wife loves me!" Arashi's expression tightened, but she just let him do it, wondering if Sorata was still watching and then hating herself for it. Yuuto kissed her on the cheek, and as he continued his line she noticed, actually noticed rather than just observed in some abstract way, how disconnected she felt from the sensation. She supposed it was just because Maudie wasn't really into it either, not being in love with Kirsch anymore, and normally it wouldn't have seemed significant, but after the conversation in the dressing room… "He's having a party for all the faculty and their families," Yuuto said, in a tone that suggested he was repeating the line.

"I'm not going," Arashi replied, coldly, recovering herself.

"Why not?" Yuuto asked, mortified, pulling away to face her.

"We'll talk about it later, okay?" Arashi snapped, her eyes averted.

"Ah…" Arashi started and looked up at Yuuto, and was surprised to see him looking genuinely hurt and confused. Fuuma had never given them that stage direction, and the tension between them sharpened. She almost asked if he was all right, but then continued with her line instead. "Whatever, I'll go," she said, almost guiltily. "Just don't…" But her voice trailed away. She extricated herself from Yuuto's embrace, still feeling weirdly guilty. Yuuto watched her for a moment longer, then continued with his next line.

"And we'll spend the evening at the headmaster's!" he said, his eyes flitting up to the lighting booth. In the microsecond he locked eyes with Satsuki, her stomach gave a weird lurch and heat rushed up her face, making her lip curl.

"What, does Kanoe pull that shit?" Satsuki asked under her breath.

"What?" Satsuki jumped so badly she sent her script and pen flying.

"What the fuck, you almost gave me a heart attack!" she snapped, turning to face Hokuto on the threshold, peering through the gap in the curtains.

"I'm sorry, I didn't mean to startle you!" she cried, her eyes huge.

"It's fine," Satsuki replied in the same snappish tone, adjusting her glasses and picking up her script and pen. "Have you been up here this whole time?"

"Yes, I figured I wouldn't disturb anyone if I watched from the balcony." The corner of her mouth twitched. "I guess that's not the case."

"Apparently not."

"I just thought you were talking to me when I was passing," Hokuto continued, patiently. "I'm on my way out anyway, don't worry." She smiled and departed. Satsuki closed her eyes, took off her glasses and pinched the bridge of her nose. She hadn't meant to snap at Hokuto like that, it had been totally unnecessary, especially since she hadn't even heard what she'd said. Not that it'd matter if she had; Hokuto knew better than to try and take her under her wing.

"Satsuki?!"

"What? Sorry!" She shoved her glasses back on and picked up her script.

"Can you make the upstage light a little cooler? Something's off." Satsuki rolled her eyes and shut off one light in favor of another.

"Better?"

"Not really." Satsuki took a steadying breath in through her nose and tried another, uncomfortably aware of everyone's eyes up at the lighting booth, of the heat in her neck and face.

"That's better."

"Fuck you," Satsuki muttered under her breath.

"Okay, let's keep going please."

"Your clock is seven minutes fast," said Yuuto, though his eyes were still fixed upon the lighting booth, "but yeah! 'I'm tired,' he told me."

"Lunch is ready, everyone come eat," Subaru called from the dining table, which was now set for lunch.

"You're the best, Jackson," Yuuto told him, rushing upstage and clapping him on the shoulder. "Yesterday I worked from the crack of dawn to almost eleven at night, I was exhausted! But today I feel happy!" He threw himself into a dining chair. Kusanagi heaved himself off the couch and Arashi caught him by the arm.

"No booze today, it's not good for you," she told him, sternly, but he just smiled and ruffled her hair.

"It's fine! I haven't had a drink in two years!" Arashi ducked out from under his hand and smoothed her hair impatiently. "Besides, it's not like I'm a sloppy drunk or something!" he laughed, taking his place at the table. Arashi wrapped her arms around herself and glared across the room, but then sadness began to tint her disgust in the cold stage lights. Fuuma's lip curled.

"Fuck me," she said, wearily. "Another evening at the headmaster's, kill me where I stand."

"If I were you I just wouldn't go, screw it," Kakyo said with a shrug.

"Yeah, like I can just do that," Arashi shot back, though the snap in her voice was dulled by the sadness in her face. She opened her mouth as if to say more, closed it again, shook her head and walked up to the dining table. Keiichi watched her go, then mimed shooting himself in the head to Karen and Kakyo.

"Stop it, Jepsen," Kakyo snapped. As Keiichi backed slowly upstage, he mimed jerking off instead. Karen and Kakyo took a few steps downstage right, opposite the dining table.

"To your health, Colonel!" Yuuto exclaimed, raising his glass. "I'm an educator and Maudie's husband." He turned to Arashi, who was staring determinedly at the table and looking as though she might cry. "She's so kind," Yuuto continued, swigging his drink and slamming the glass down onto the table. "So kind!"

"I'm glad I stayed," said Sorata, also swigging his drink.

"Maudie's being weird today," Karen muttered to Kakyo, drawing the attention back downstage. Satsuki gently brought up the light above them, but,

"No," Fuuma said, simply. Satsuki sighed and switched it back. "Keep going."

"They got married when she was barely eighteen, when she thought he was way smarter and more interesting than he actually is." Satsuki's stomach lurched and her eyes snapped to Yuuto, his arm on the back of Arashi's chair as he talked and joked with the others. "Which I guess is normal here, but… He's a good guy, just not an intellectual."

"Fuck," Satsuki muttered, contemptuously.

"Andrew, get your ass in here!" Subaru called, and Kamui cried,

"One second!" Before slinking on stage and taking his place at the table.

"What are you thinking about?" Kakyo asked Karen quietly, but Fuuma only heard bits and pieces of the conversation. His attention was focused entirely on what he was seeing, where things and people were in space and how they were lit, leaving room for little else.

"We're the product of people who held menial labor in contempt," Karen said, disdainfully. At that moment, Yuzuriha rushed up to the side of the stage, her high heels clattering against the floor.

"They're already sitting down, I'm late!" she cried, entering downstage left and hurrying towards Karen and Kakyo, though she still paused to check her reflection in an invisible mirror. "My hair still looks okay…" Fuuma watched the now deeply familiar exchange over Natalie's dress, while Kakyo, realizing he couldn't get Karen's attention back, slouched upstage to sit down at the table. "It's not! I bought it just for today!" Yuzuriha cried, in a hurt voice, but then Karen just ushered her to the dining table.

"Are you getting married anytime soon, Irene?" Yuuto asked, as they took their seats. Kamui's whole aspect lit up when Yuzuriha sat down beside him, though she was too upset to return his warmth.

'Adorable,' Fuuma thought. "Satsuki?"

"Yeah?" The dialogue stopped abruptly.

"Could you lower the downstage lights?" Satsuki did so by degrees.

"Say when."

"That's good." The front of the stage was now in shadow, while the table and everyone around it were thrown into relatively warm relief. "Let's have Kirsch's line again."

"Are you getting married anytime soon, Irene?" Yuuto repeated.

"You too, Natalie!" Kusanagi added.

"You've not got long to wait," Yuuto told Kusanagi in a "wink wink nudge nudge" sort of voice that made everyone except Arashi, Kamui and Yuzuriha laugh.

"I'll have a glass of wine! Now! Please god!" Arashi cried, more sad than exasperated.

"Your conduct gets a C minus!" Yuuto scolded. At the same time, he and Sorata reached for the wine bottle in the center of the table to fill her glass. Sorata pulled his hand away at once, smiling and doing his utmost not to look awkward before hastily taking a sip of his own drink.

"This is delicious, what's the simple syrup infused with?" he asked.

"Cockroaches," Keiichi replied under his breath, and Karen gave him a disgusted look.

"You're all welcome to stay for dinner too!" Subaru said, loudly, to distract, and the lines clipped along, quick and sharp and energetic. Fuuma leaned forward, his elbows on his knees, his chin in his hands and his eyes fixed upon the stage.

"Eleven of us, just shy of thirteen!" Yuuto exclaimed. "Though I suppose we don't need thirteen to mean there's lovers here."

"Is that what that means?" Kusanagi asked, grinning and raising his eyebrows. "I thought that when thirteen dine together the first to leave the table is the first to die!" Everyone except Arashi, Kamui and Yuzuriha snorted with laughter, though Yuuto persisted.

"Are you one of the lovers, Doctor? Trying to divert suspicion, I see…" Kusanagi let out a booming laugh and leaned back in his chair.

"I wouldn't use 'lover' to describe me," he said, thoughtfully. "But I don't know why Natalie's getting embarrassed all of a sudden!" Yuzuriha, who had become visibly more and more uncomfortable throughout the exchange, leapt up from the table and sprinted downstage, her face in her hands. Everyone else fell silent and stared, stunned, after her, but then Kamui sprang to his feet too. He gave the table a murderous look before rushing to Yuzuriha's side.

"Natalie! Stop, come on," he said, consolingly, catching her by the arm and gently turning her to face him. "They're just being assholes, don't worry about it!"

"I can't!" she cried back.

"Come with me, no one can see us here," said Kamui, guiding Yuzuriha downstage center.

"Further upstage, Andrew," Fuuma called. "Yeah there's good." Kamui and Yuzuriha stood facing each other, backlit by the lights over the table so they looked almost silhouetted. Fuuma smirked.

"No one can see us here," Kamui continued, simultaneously passionate and reassuring. He tried to embrace her, but she cried,

"I feel so out of place!"

"Satsuki, once they start kissing, kill all the lights," Fuuma said, straightening up and crossing his arms and legs.

"Including the screen?"

"Yes. Now say your line, Andrew."

"Fuck them!" Kamui cried. "You have a place here with me, because I love you! I love you more than anything else in the world. I fell in love with you- I don't even know, just, please…" He tenderly took hold of the sides of Yuzuriha's face and kissed her on the lips. She cried out softly, but then threw her arms around his neck. The lights all went off, plunging the entire room into darkness. Someone at the table began to cheer, but then Satsuki turned all the lights back on and they stopped abruptly amid grumblings about burning eyes.

"Don't get ahead of yourselves," Fuuma warned them, though he was smiling. "Take five and then I wanna see Act One again." Some people looked confused, others just nodded.

Satsuki took off her glasses, leaned forward and pressed the heel of her hand between her eyes with a heavy sigh. She supposed it was to be expected, but it was stupid to feel this tired already, particularly if Fuuma was going to make them run the first act over and over until he reached some arbitrary point of satisfaction.

"Satsuki?" She jumped, dropped her glasses on the switchboard and glared at Nataku's hazy outline on the threshold.

"Yes?" she asked, coldly. When she put her glasses back on, she saw he was carrying a mug.

"Fuuma told me to bring you coffee," he said, simply, his usual deadpan expression firmly in place as he walked over. She rolled her eyes but accepted the mug and took a fortifying sip.

"Thank you," she said, grudgingly. Nataku didn't reply. Satsuki took another sip, trying not to let her irritation show in her face.

"We've got time, go get some fresh air or something," Nataku said, deadpan as ever.

"I'd rather not be around a bunch of people."

"Mm." Nataku nodded and left, taking care to draw the curtains closed behind him, leaving Satsuki alone in her electricity and darkness. She took another sip of coffee, appreciating this consideration and reflecting, for nowhere near the first time, that she'd probably have done better to follow in her father's footsteps and do programming. She had always been good at it, and she loved the subtlety of the different languages, the push and pull between hardware and software and the elegance of hacking. However, despite her flair for the quiet and conceptual, there was something almost viscerally satisfying about creating something tangible and easily made sense of. Especially when the project would disband and leave no real physical record afterwards. It was also easier to collaborate when it was only for a few weeks or months. If she were forced up against the same salaried employees every day for years, she'd go insane. Her standing gig at BTC was only possible because it wasn't year round.

She peered at Yuuto down below, deep in conversation with Kanoe, and her grip on her mug tightened. He threw his head back in laughter and slipped an arm around her waist. Satsuki's entire torso constricted painfully around her stomach, lungs and heart. She took too big a sip of coffee, choked and swore.

"Satsuki!" Came Fuuma's obnoxious voice from the audience. Satsuki closed her eyes, willing herself not to snap.

"Yes?" she called in sarcastic politeness.

"Let's take it from the top of Act One, please!" Satsuki watched the cast take their places, turned off all the lights and readied the sliders for the scene to begin. "Let me see it."

Fuuma watched the whole act hunched over, elbows on his knees, hands over his mouth and brow furrowed in concentration. He liked what he was seeing, but tried not to be too optimistic, because when he was the most optimistic he was also the most anxious. He remembered working on Yoru two years ago, when he had Camellia and Seishiro by his side almost constantly, talking him down and keeping him sane and generally being there for him to bounce ideas off of. Of course, Yoru had also been a far more technical show, with television sets everywhere and lights changing almost constantly. Here, he could definitely manage on his own, but in trying both to pay attention to his developing show and not agonize, he realized how spoiled he'd been. Well no, he'd realized that last year, when Seishiro had dipped out on him and the show had ended up a disaster.

"Hold up," he called, suddenly, once everyone was seated around the dining table again. "After this we're gonna go straight into Act Two. Once the lights go off get right into your places for that, yes?" His cast nodded. "So Andrew," he continued, "turn on that light," he nodded at the lamp on the end table, "then start your lines." Kamui nodded.

"Do you want anything else on?" Satsuki asked.

"I dunno, I need to see it first, don't I?" Fuuma replied, with a sudden bite of impatience. "Keep going." He watched Yuzuriha escape from the table, Kamui run up to comfort her and the lights go out over their kiss. Fuuma blinked, and as his eyes adjusted, he could see his cast scurrying about as they rushed to get into place. "We'll need a song here," Fuuma muttered to Nataku sitting beside him.

"Is someone picking up all the props or am I in charge of that?" Nataku asked, squinting at the dining table through the darkness.

"What? Oh shit," Fuuma muttered. "Wait wait, stop!" Satsuki turned on the lights again to cries of outrage from the cast. "All that shit on the table," Fuuma said, loudly. "I know you weren't just gonna leave it there." Kusanagi rolled his eyes while everyone else exchanged looks and said,

"I'll take-" at the same time, but Fuuma forestalled them.

"Nataku, who's taking what?" Nataku got to his feet at once to give instructions.

"Kusanagi, could you take the espresso machine backstage?" Kusanagi nodded and made to do so, but,

"No," Fuuma interrupted. "That was a gift, weird and inappropriate as it was, they should display it."

"Okay, where?" Kusanagi asked, perfectly calmly, but Fuuma knew another spasm of impatience.

"I don't know, fucking get them a bookcase or something!" He couldn't help but feel frustrated. How had he missed this obvious and huge oversight until just now?

"You want us to find one now?" Kusanagi asked. Fuuma knew his cast wouldn't like it but decided they could cope.

"Yeah, let's take care of this." He got to his feet, leaving his bag and script in his chair but tucking his cellphone into his back pocket. "The rest of you, at ease." He strode from the theater with Nataku and Kusanagi hurrying to follow him. The lobby door closed in the distance, breaking the tension, and everyone began talking at once.

"For a bookcase, really?" Kamui asked.

"It's kind of a big set piece," Sorata said, fairly, but Yuuto cut in,

"It's never just about the bookcase." Everyone laughed.

"Do I have time to go smoke?" Subaru asked. "Probably not, right?"

"Doesn't Hokuto get annoyed if you smoke in costume?" Kakyo asked, hesitantly, blushing as everyone looked at him, surprised as they always were whenever he said anything.

"Her job would be impossible if she did," Karen said, resignedly, again making everyone laugh.

"Real talk," muttered Sorata. He caught Arashi's eye and smiled. Most encouragingly, she smiled back. Since that fateful rehearsal, she'd been spending more time with the cast, hanging out in their dorm's common areas and chatting during breaks. She stuck close to Yuzuriha and didn't say much, but Sorata would find himself thinking about her words for hours afterwards. He was sure it was just Young's influence, because now that Arashi was more comfortable their characters could actually express their feelings, but either way, he didn't want to push it. As per everyone's advice, he was trying to keep his hands off the situation and give it time, but fuck if it wasn't frustrating to sit and watch, especially when Arashi was beautiful and their kisses felt so insanely good and he couldn't help but wonder how it would feel off stage, in a bed rather than on a dining table. Sorata blushed and looked away rather embarrassedly.

"Everyone clear the stage, please!" Nataku called loudly from the doorway as he preceded Fuuma and Kusanagi carrying a huge, heavy bookcase between them. Sorata, Yuuto, Kamui and Subaru rushed forward to help, but,

"Nah, we're good, stay out the way," Fuuma said, carefully walking backwards up the stairs at the edge of the stage. "Let's put it down here," he said, and they carefully turned the bookcase the right way up and set it down.

"Just let me know where you want it," Kusanagi said, patiently. Fuuma's narrowed eyes swept the room.

"Upstage left, facing the audience," he said, decisively. Together they lifted the bookcase and the cast scurried out of the way as they carried it upstage and set it into place. Fuuma ran back center stage and turned a critical eye upon the addition.

"Good?"

"Good."

"Good," Kusanagi said, stepping out of Nataku's way as he rushed forward to fill the shelves with the espresso machine and random books he'd taken from the prop warehouse.

"Put your eyes back in," Kamui muttered to Yuzuriha.

"Shut the fuck up, Kamui."

"What's up?" Fuuma asked, turning to his cast as though suddenly remembering they were there.

"Nothing, sorry," Kamui replied, but Fuuma barely seemed to hear him.

"Satsuki?"

"Yes?"

"Could I see all of the lighting cues for Act One?"

"I doubt your bookcase will change much, but sure," she replied.

"It's a huge piece, what are you talking about?!" Fuuma demanded, outraged. In response, Satsuki killed all of the lights. Through the darkness and ensuing din of swear words and laughter, she could hear Yuuto's voice distinctly. Her jaw clenched as she brought up the lights for the top of Act One.

"Yes, good, fine," Fuuma said. Satsuki changed to her next cue, and her next, and her next, receiving a "Yes, good, fine," every time, until they reached the end of the scene. "Thank you!" Satsuki brought up all the lights and found Fuuma facing her with a satisfied smile on his face. She replied with a sarcastic wave that made everyone laugh, and again she could discern Yuuto's voice in particular. "Right, where's my PA? Cool, assign everyone props to put away." Fuuma jumped backwards off the stage and collapsed into a front row seat. Satisfied and grateful, he seized his bag, withdrew his water bottle and took a long draw from it. "It'd be gratuitous to run Act One again, right?" he asked, after a minute.

"Yes," Kamui said, bravely, and Fuuma was still too caught up in his momentary satisfaction to do anything but laugh.

"Let's take it from your last line then," he said. "Places, please."

"Fuuma? I should change costumes after the scene ends, right?" asked Yuzuriha. Fuuma stared at her from over the rim of his water bottle for a good ten seconds.

"Oh," he said, shaking his head. "Sorry! I completely forgot, thank you for reminding me! Yes, please do that so I can see what it looks like. Fucking hell," he added for good measure. Yuzuriha gave him the thumbs up and took her place downstage center with Kamui while the rest of the cast sat down around the dining table. "You don't have to kiss, just say the line." Yuzuriha and Kamui gave ostentatious sighs of relief, then grinned at each other. It was weird for Yuzuriha to know objectively that Kamui was a good kisser even as it did absolutely nothing for her. She'd told him as much and he'd agreed with her, then she'd teased him about Subaru and received the finger in return. In spite of herself, her eyes darted to Kusanagi at the dining table, and he smiled at her. Now that made her feel something. "All right, let me see it."

Kamui delivered his last line and the theater went black. Immediately there was a flurry of activity as everyone gathered props and scurried to their places for the next act. Yuzuriha rushed backstage where Hokuto had left the dress she'd be wearing for the rest of the show. It was the same shade of pink, but grown up and much more flattering. She changed at lightning speed, hung up the party dress and snuck out behind the audience to wait for her cue.

Fuuma watched and listened, reflecting that they'd definitely need a song to cover the noise. Resisting the urge to tell them all to streamline and quiet down, he called, "Okay, sweet! Andrew, come on like normal and then turn on the lamp. Satsuki, for now I just want the screen." Kamui's dark shape shuffled into position as the screen slowly warmed to a deep, purplish black. "All right, take it away." Kamui turned on the end table lamp, creating a soft sphere of light all around him. Someone said, "Ooh!" and Fuuma smirked.

"Good?" Satsuki asked.

"I think so," Fuuma replied, still smirking but now casting a critical eye over the stage, over Kamui hugging his book to his chest and making faces at his cast mates across the room. "Yeah let's leave it as is for now. If we need more light I'll say so."

"Certainly," Satsuki replied, settling back in her chair with her arms and legs folded.

"All right, let's go."

"Andrew?" Yuzuriha asked, hesitantly, entering from the audience stage right. Fuuma leaned forward, his elbows on his knees and chin in his hands again. He wasn't exactly sure where he'd want a lighting cue, if he'd want one at all, so he just let the scene play, his ears going in and out of focus while his eyes only sharpened.

"Good night," Kamui told Kanoe, softly, watching her leave the stage. "Sleep well." A moment's silence passed. "Sleep well." He got up off the couch, still holding his book in his arms.

"Turn off the light as you exit," Fuuma said, and Kamui did so before slouching into the audience. "Give it a second, then take your cue," he said loudly to Sorata and Arashi, lurking in the aisle stage left. "Could we have something on in the wings so it looks like a porch light?" Fuuma asked, on a sudden inspiration. A small pool of warm light appeared on the floor where Fuuma had indicated.

"Is that okay?" asked Satsuki.

"Yeah that's perfect." The light went out. "Keep going. Oh no, hold up, Maudie! When you enter, turn on the lamp as you say your line."

"Okay!" Arashi called.

"Go for it."

Arashi and Sorata made their way up the aisle, not talking but catching each others' eye in the purple semi-darkness. In the wings stage left, Satsuki's would-be porch light came on, and in its warm glow, Arashi gave Sorata a small smile, he smiled back, and she led him on stage. "I'm not sure," she said, hurrying to turn on the lamp.

"Do you want the porch light left on?" Satsuki asked.

"Switch it off after like, thirty seconds, like it's on a timer," Fuuma replied, frowning as he consulted his script. "Maudie, this next line? Act like you're gonna mess with the espresso machine-"

"-but then get distracted?" Arashi cut in. Both Fuuma and Sorata smiled.

"Exactly." The scene continued, the low light and shadows making their movements much more dynamic, their almost kisses and affectionate touches far more exciting. Eventually, they were center stage, so close that Arashi could count the freckles on Sorata's nose.

"When you say things like that, I want to laugh!" she exclaimed, though she sounded like she might burst into tears. "Even though it's terrifying," she continued, her voice lowering, and Sorata took a sharp breath in, staring at her hard in the eyes as she seized the sides of his face. "Shut up!" she begged him, and he threw his arms around her waist to pull her flush up against him. Even in tech, even though he knew they were just holding places to see how the light would fall, he felt a rush of arousal as she kissed him full on the lips.

Fuuma took a deep breath in and let it out slowly, the familiar torrent of excitement flooding his body. He leaned in closer, watching Sorata lift Arashi into his arms, spin her around and lay her on the table, then kiss her passionately in silhouette.

"So pretty," Fuuma whispered to Nataku, who ignored him.

"That's our cue," Karen hissed to Kakyo, getting to her feet and extending her hand to help him up. "Are you all right?" she asked, his sweaty palm sliding against hers.

"What? Oh I'm fine," Kakyo replied hurriedly, ashamed of Karen's concern for him and of his own imagination. As he'd watched Sorata and Arashi's exchange, Fuuma's words came back to him, pushed up on a geyser of energy from the stage. "Someone you care about. Hokuto." Had he also told Sorata and Arashi that? Was that what he meant by "care about?" Kakyo's face burned. The very idea of him being as open and strong and easy as Sorata was laughable. Fortunately, at that moment Karen spoke her line, but before he could reply,

"Wait, wait, hold on," Fuuma interjected. Karen and Kakyo stopped in their tracks and Sorata and Arashi broke their kiss to watch, though they remained tangled up in each other on the dining table. "I'll probably hate this, but if we don't try it it'll bother me. Can I see it with Irene and Transeau's path lit up?"

"You can," Satsuki replied, resignedly, hoping this wouldn't take too long. She couldn't stand to watch Sorata and Arashi. It was all such clichéd bullshit, cracking through frigidity with your on stage romantic opposite. It was fucking pathetic, and she had no patience for it. She pushed a few buttons and pressed up three switches.

"That light is too yellow!" snapped Fuuma. Satsuki rolled her eyes and changed it.

"How long will this take, do you think?" Kanoe asked Yuuto under her breath from their front row seats stage right.

"Too long," he replied, with a brave smile. "I'll be back." He kissed Kanoe on the top of the head and snuck under the lights Satsuki was moving and changing and up into the balcony. She and Fuuma were still going back and forth, though it seemed to grow quieter as Yuuto focused on what he was about to do. It shouldn't have made him nervous, he'd done this very thing before, but he supposed circumstances were different now, as much as he hated to admit it. However, Kanoe had given him the green light. They'd all consented. He pulled back the curtain.

"Yes?" Satsuki asked, irritably, turning in her seat. Yuuto stepped over the threshold, and Satsuki's eyes widened for a second before she organized her face into its usual impassive disdain. "Everyone wants to come up in here today," she muttered, changing the lights as per Fuuma's most recent demand.

"Yeah, that's what I like," said Fuuma, loudly. "Keep going." Out of the corner of her eye, Satsuki saw Yuuto fidgeting like a little boy in trouble.

"Did you need something?" she asked, irritably, after a moment.

"Just to ask about our conversation in the car," he said.

"You seriously came to bother me with that while I'm supposed to be working?"

"Well," Yuuto began, awkwardly, realizing how good a point that was. However, he was determined all the same; he'd promised her he'd give her an answer as soon as he could. "I asked Kanoe and she's okay with it. Do you want to spend the night with us?" A slight spasm crossed Satsuki's face, as though she'd tasted something bitter unexpectedly. She turned to look at Yuuto.

"You're seriously bothering me with this while we're at work?" she asked again.

"Yes," replied Yuuto, more bravely than he felt.

"So you finally talked to her weeks later? Or did everyone else just say no?" Satsuki asked, delicately.

"Don't say that," replied Yuuto, unexpectedly stung by this. "I told you in the car-"

"Okay turn the lights off again, please!" Fuuma called. Yuuto bit down on the inside of his lip as he watched Satsuki's fingertips delicately work the sliders and controls, causing everything to go dark again. Where had all this hostility come from? She'd been fine earlier.

"Hey," he said, quietly, stepping forward and placing his hand on her upper back. Satsuki closed her eyes, the touch radiating out through her body like a muscle spasm.

"What?" she asked, trying not to sound annoyed. She pushed the slider of their would-be porch light up as Karen and Kakyo stepped up into the wings.

"Thank you!" Fuuma said.

"So what's the verdict?" asked Satsuki, finding Fuuma's appreciation gratifying in spite of herself.

"Keep them off. I fucking knew that was how it was gonna be, I'm sorry! I'm an asshole!" Everyone except Yuuto and Satsuki laughed. She wondered how long Yuuto was planning on staying up here, if he really wanted an answer, what she'd even say. "What if we had these," she called to Fuuma, more to put off addressing Yuuto than because she actually cared. Pale blue lights suddenly illuminated the sides of the stage, though they were only really visible when people walked under them.

"Hmm… Take your entrance again, Transeau and Irene."

Yuuto heaved a heavy sigh, feeling completely at a loss. With Kanoe, he'd be able to just embrace her, kiss her, figure out what was wrong and fix it. But of course, Satsuki wasn't Kanoe. That was the whole point. However, as he watched her go back and forth with Fuuma, make notes and changes, he realized for the first time how little he knew about her as anything but a colleague or third or whatever their indiscretion had made her.

On stage, Sorata and Arashi had long since stopped kissing, and he rested his chest gently against hers. "Is this okay?" he asked.

"You're fine," she replied, trying to ignore the heat and pressure inside her. Sorata was also half hard, but she'd followed his lead in not mentioning it.

"Fucking tech," he said, with a rueful smile. "Are you sure you're okay?"

"I'm fine, I promise." She swallowed, wanting to keep the usefully distracting conversation going. "I once did a show where we had to climb up and down ladders all around the stage. Teching that was a nightmare."

"Yeah, I remember you said at breakfast," Sorata replied, encouragingly. Arashi looked taken aback, but Sorata continued. "What show was it? Kamui and Keiichi got into that spatula sword fight before you could say." Arashi actually giggled, and Sorata's heart skipped and his half hard erection twitched hopefully.

"A Midsummer Night's Dream," Arashi replied, softly.

"Who were you? Helena?" Again, Arashi actually giggled, shaking her head.

"Oh no, I was new to the company so I just played a fairy."

"Moth?"

"Yes, how'd you guess?"

"Lucky on the first try." They exchanged another smile.

"Okay! Sorry! I'm finally satisfied!" Fuuma called across the room, though he was sure no one believed him. "Let's take it from your line, Irene, then I promise we'll move on."

"Thank god," Satsuki muttered. She made one last note, then finally turned to face Yuuto. "This is the longest you've been away from Kanoe since last time, isn't it?" she asked, without meaning to, her usual cold, confident composure restored by doing what she was good at and being praised and appreciated for it. Yuuto's eyes widened at how brazen Satsuki was to bring up their trist, but then remembered their trip to the hardware store. Surely that was what she was talking about. Surely.

"Kanoe trusts me," he said, eventually. "We always communicate openly, you know that."

"Ah, true," she replied. Yuuto shivered at the chill in her voice, but continued on anyway.

"So… Did you want to come over?" he asked, hoping he sounded smooth and matter of fact as he always did. Satsuki stared at him, searching quietly, and he managed to maintain eye contact.

"Sure." Yuuto smiled.

"After tech? I'm sure we'll need to blow off steam sooner or later."

"Mm." They held each other's gaze a moment longer, but then Yuuto turned and headed back into the theater. Satsuki watched him go, watched him take the seat beside Kanoe, wrap his arm around her shoulders and kiss her on the lips. Disgust rose up in her throat, but she swallowed it.

The rest of rehearsal dragged by painfully slowly. Fuuma kept stopping to make subtle changes he insisted were important, even if he was the only one who noticed them. "Integrity over sanity," he reminded his cast whenever he saw them getting impatient.

As he made change after change, ran scene after scene, his previous seasons at Babylon came back to him in odd flashes. My Name No One Shall Know, straightforward and punchy. Yoru, tight and compressive. Then In Your Silence, meandering and messy and unnecessarily complicated. People, Nataku, Hokuto, Satsuki, Kusanagi, Camellia, Yuuto, Kanoe, even Seishiro, had assured him that despite all the setbacks he'd actually pulled it off. However, he knew better, and now he wanted to do better: avoid the same mistakes, recapture the recognition and satisfaction from his first two summers here.

"It's almost four," hissed Nataku.

"Oh shit, is it really? How the fuck…" Fuuma checked his phone and found that yes, it was 3:45.

"And you look exhausted- oh," Yuzuriha stopped speaking abruptly as Fuuma stood up. Everyone turned to look at him.

"Sorry, it's nearly four and if I don't give you a break I get in trouble," Fuuma told them regretfully. A few people laughed, though everyone else looked confused.

"We're almost done with Act Two, why not just keep going?" Keiichi asked, his eyes widening innocently.

"Trust me. Go eat something, nap, whatever, it'll be better that way," he said, decisively. "I wanna finish Act Two and then run it again before we stop for the night. Come back at six." A moment's silence passed, but then the cast shrugged and went backstage.

"Slave driver," Nataku muttered, getting to his feet.

"Yeah yeah," Fuuma said, unconcernedly. "You wanna go get dinner?"

"Sure," Nataku replied, indifferently.

"Cool, I just gotta talk to Satsuki first, hold on." He seized his bag and hurried up into the lighting booth.

"I'm going to strangle the next person who comes in here, I swear to god," Satsuki said, trying for her usual lazy contempt but mostly just sounding exhausted.

"Put a baby gate in front of the door?" suggested Fuuma.

"Because you're all children?"

"Way to ruin the joke."

"What the fuck do you want, Fuuma?" He just laughed and leaned against a black metal cabinet on her right.

"I'm pleased," he told her, simply. "But I was wondering how you're doing." Satsuki raised her eyebrows.

"I'm not quite ready to kill you yet." Fuuma said nothing, and after a moment she sighed. "It's fine. Not particularly interesting, but it looks good." Fuuma smiled.

"Yeah, I agree." Satsuki leaned back in her chair and stretched.

"Anything else?"

"You wanna get dinner?" Satsuki sighed again, and her eyes travelled out over the theater, now empty of everyone except Nataku, waiting for Fuuma like a dog tied up outside. She wondered for a second where Yuuto and Kanoe had gone, but stopped when it made her feel sick.

"Sure," she said, defeated.

"Awesome." Fuuma tramped back down the stairs, called Nataku to his side and led him back out to the lobby which was now drenched in afternoon sunlight. "We're waiting for Satsuki," Fuuma informed Nataku, who gave no sign he'd heard.

Fuuma checked his phone, but when he found no new messages, he stared out through the glass panels instead. He caught sight of performers in the shows at the Ohkawa and the Apapa, practicing, eating or else messing about outside. Four weeks in, it finally occurred to him to be curious about everyone else's work. He'd met the other directors and performers in passing, obviously, but if he were honest he didn't really care what they were doing. Not that that was unexpected: no one would ever care about your show as much as you. Smirking, he remembered one party Seishiro had insisted he go to his first summer here, when he'd still had to be conscious of not stepping on toes. Another director who claimed to love his work spent their entire conversation talking his ear off about their production of Hamlet set in a coffee shop, then describing the costumes in lavish detail. Fuuma had managed not to roll his eyes by reminding himself that this approach was no worse than his usual MO of dark sets and simple costumes.

"Where are we going?" Satsuki asked, appearing suddenly at his side and jerking him out of his thoughts.

"Don't worry about it. I'll drive, come on." Satsui and Nataku exchanged a look, but followed Fuuma out to the parking lot, the afternoon sun suddenly hot on their faces. Satsuki blinked and held up her hand to shield her eyes, which made Fuuma laugh.

"It's not my fault I've been kept in the dark all day," she snapped. Again, Fuuma just laughed and unlocked the car. He got in and started the engine, and music blared from his speakers at full volume. I'm a pale imitator of a boy in the sky, with a cap in his hand and a knot in his tie-

"Oh shit, sorry," he cried, hastily turning it down.

"How do you always run at full intensity all the time?" asked Satsuki, wearily. Nataku snorted.

"Dunno," replied Fuuma, unconcernedly, gravel crunching under his tires as he drove out of the parking lot and past the famous author's house. "Tsubaki blames my horoscope."

"She blames everyone's horoscopes," said Nataku, though Satsuki's mouth twitched in a reminiscent smile.

"What's she up to?" she asked.

"Adapting a novel into a play," Fuuma replied, steering them through Clow, which was more crowded than he'd yet seen it. "Which she'll hopefully let me direct."

"At Babylon?" asked Satsuki.

"Possibly, if I'm back next summer." Satsuki's brow furrowed, but Nataku caught her eye in the rearview mirror and she said nothing. Fuuma backed into a parking space right in front of a little garden café, shaded by trees and a vine covered trellis. "Here we are, I'm starving!"

Two hours later, Fuuma was back in the Igarashi, sipping the coffee he'd taken to go and staring down at his script. His cast was on stage, back in costume and looking restored after the break, Nataku was in the audience and Satsuki was up in the lighting booth, having slunk up there the moment they'd returned, with her own cup of coffee and without speaking to anyone. "Okay, we were at Natalie's line, right?" Fuuma asked, his eyes narrowing.

"And you look exhausted, poor thing? Yes," supplied Yuzuriha.

"Awesome, thank you. Places please?" Everyone except Yuzuriha and Karen found seats in the audience and Satsuki shut off the house lights. Yuuto, who had been watching the lighting booth since he'd arrived, shuddered. "Take it away then," said Fuuma, graciously, sitting back down in the front row. Karen and Yuzuriha faced each other.

"And you look exhausted, poor thing!" said Yuzuriha. "You should have been asleep by now."

"Is Maddox asleep?" Karen asked in a drained voice. There was genuine concern in both of their voices, though it was clear neither of them wanted to be having the conversation at all.

"He's asleep," Yuzuriha said, gratefully, and she and Karen actually exchanged a smile of solidarity before continuing. "Not that he sleeps well, but," she shrugged. "Oh! Before I forget-"

"Satsuki could we like, really subtly spotlight them?" Fuuma asked, narrowing his eyes at the stage. Satsuki carefully brought down the lights at the edges of the stage, bringing Karen and Yuzuriha into sharper focus. "Yeah, that's good."

"The audience isn't even going to see that," Nataku said, almost to himself.

"That's not my fucking problem. Keep going!"

"Oh! Before I forget or you disappear again," Yuzuriha said, in a tone that could either be playful or sarcastic, depending on how you heard it. Karen stiffened as though bracing herself. "Maddox's room is way too cold, and I worry about him getting sick, but your room would be perfect for a baby." She smiled, willing her sister-in-law to understand. "Sweetheart, my love, could you possibly move out for a while?" Karen just stared at her, nonplussed.

"What?"

"Hold up," Fuuma said, loudly. He'd just noticed, for what felt like the first time but obviously wasn't, the stage direction (Cars can be heard passing close to the house). "What if, what if, when cars are supposed to come through, we pass a light over the audience, or no! The screen, so we can see it through the windows?!" He suddenly really, really liked this idea. He stood up and turned to address Satsuki. "That's possible, right?" It was clear from his tone that the answer would be yes, either because Satsuki would make the screen do that or because she'd build a new one that could.

"Hold on," she called, as though she'd been expecting this. Fuuma smirked and faced the stage again, watching it without blinking for the full minute of Satsuki programming and adjusting, until a light appeared suddenly in the back of the audience, swept up stage right, passed through the screen and disappeared.

"Oh cool!" cried Yuzuriha. Out of the corner of his eye, Fuuma saw Yuuto turn to the lighting booth again, an expression on his face he didn't have time to decipher at that moment.

"Can we just take a second to appreciate how completely fucking perfect that was?" Fuuma exclaimed. He fell back into his seat and stretched luxuriously. "Let's take it from Irene's line so I can see it again." Everyone laughed, but then Karen said, "What?" and they all fell silent at once.

"You could take the guest room, or, well I suppose it'd be weird for you to move into Jackson's room, but it'd be just for a while, and then Maddox can have your room!" At the mention of his character's name, Subaru got up for his entrance, taking his place stage left with Yuuto and Sorata. "He's so perfect," Yuzuriha cooed. "Today I said to him, Maddox, you're mine! All mine! And he just looked back at me with so much love…" In accordance with the stage direction (A car pulls up outside), another light swept up stage left and onto the screen where it remained a soft, glowing sphere against the blackness.

"Perfect," said Fuuma.

"Is Jackson finally home?" Yuzuriha asked, looking curiously over her shoulder. "It's way too late!" Karen just swallowed and watched Yuzuriha start and take her phone out of the pocket of her dress. Her lip curled as she read the message. "Nathan's such a piece of work. He wants me to drive with him to see the parade." She blushed slightly as she replied, and the would-be porch light came on. "Men are so," she said, shoving her phone back into her pocket and gently shaking her head. "Well, you understand." And with that, she took her exit upstage right. Karen watched her go, a look of stunned disbelief on her face, until Subaru and Yuuto entered upstage left, followed by Sorata. Subaru crossed the stage and sank onto the couch while Yuuto stopped dead in his tracks so Sorata had to swerve to avoid him.

"I thought there was a party going on?" Yuuto asked, looking inquiringly at Karen.

"When I left we were still waiting for the parade to pass through," Sorata said, running his fingers through his hair.

"They left," Karen replied, simply, sinking down onto the couch beside Subaru.

"Maudie's gone too?" Yuuto asked, moving about the stage as though expecting her to appear. Sorata swallowed, and for the briefest moment something like regret crossed his face. It radiated out through the audience, making Satsuki's jaw clench and Fuuma shudder.

"Fuck, that makes my heart hurt," he whispered to Nataku, though he was grinning.

"Where'd she go? And why is Nathan parked outside?" Yuuto continued, gesturing upstage at the would be headlights.

"Can we stop with the interrogation, please?" Karen snapped. "I'm exhausted."

"All right, all right, goodness," Yuuto replied, turning away from her with his arms held up as though surrendering.

"That meeting literally just ended," Subaru said, his elbow on the arm of the couch and head resting in his hand. "I'm completely brain dead. Our headmistress is sick, so I'm doing her job, and Andrew lost $1000 at the casino yesterday and everyone's talking about it."

"Yeah, that meeting wore me out too," Yuuto cut in, though everyone ignored him.

"My wife thinks it's funny to scare the absolute hell out of me," Sorata said in the same tone as Subaru, as though continuing a conversation he'd been having. "She didn't actually hurt herself." He took a deep breath in and sighed it out. "It's all right, everyone is okay, I can relax for five seconds." He shook his head and stared about the room, a look of deep sadness on his face despite his reassurance. "I guess we've gotta head out though," he continued, then, on a spur of cheerfulness that echoed strangely, "Mr. Kirsch, come with me somewhere!"

"Holy shit," Nataku breathed. Fuuma swallowed the sudden tightness in his throat, Young's pain sharp in his own body. He looked around the room, and saw Arashi had her hands over her mouth and her eyes were huge while Keiichi, Kakyo and Kamui all watched her anxiously. On the other side of the room, Kanoe had her arms and legs crossed and wore an expression of the utmost superiority as Yuuto proclaimed,

"I'm tired, I'm not going anywhere." Sorata swallowed and looked away rather guiltily. "Did my wife just go back home?" Yuuto asked Karen, who stared blearily at him from across the stage.

"I suppose so." Yuuto nodded thoughtfully and stretched again.

"Goodbye," he told the room, graciously. "I'm off tomorrow and the day after, time to rest, finally! Have a good rest of your night!" He turned to go, continuing the conversation with himself. "I was planning on spending the evening in company, but…" He paused before the wings. "O fallecum hominum spem!"

"How deceitful is the hope of men," Fuuma whispered, echoing Yuuto's tone.

"Pedant," muttered Nataku. Sorata watched Yuuto leave the stage and heaved a heavy sigh.

"Which means I'm on my own," he said, and Fuuma had to swallow more tightness in his throat. Sorata followed Yuuto offstage, leaving Subaru and Karen by themselves.

"My head is killing me," Subaru said, after a moment. "And Andrew lost, and everyone thinks it's worth talking about." He grimaced as though feeling suddenly sick, but then swallowed and got to his feet. "Fuck, I need to lie down." Karen nodded and Subaru exited downstage right.

"They've left me all by myself," Karen said, softly, taking her head up off her hand. Yuzuriha appeared suddenly from upstage right, wearing a long pink coat and clearly trying to be sneaky. However, when she caught sight of Karen by herself,

"I'll be back in a half hour, I'm just going for a drive." Without waiting for a reply, she exited upstage left. Karen's gaze drifted towards the screen, still glowing with the car's headlights, which Satsuki made sweep over the audience the same way they had come in.

"Wait until the porch light goes off, then get up and say your line," said Fuuma. Karen nodded, and Satsuki gave her a moment, then shut off the light. Karen sighed and stood up, heading towards her center stage mark. "Hold up. Satsuki, I want all the lights off except the lamp."

"So I can sing and then shut it off?" Karen asked.

"Exactly." Karen nodded again, drifting vaguely over to the lamp, while Satsuki brought all the other lights down.

"So is the girl, you used to call… The Queen of New York City…" Fuuma smirked at the new lyric he'd decided she'd sing as she shut off the light, plunging the entire theater into darkness.

"Perfect!" Fuuma said, clapping his hands together three times as though summoning a minion. Someone cheered, but then Satsuki brought up all the lights, cutting them off. Fuuma smirked and checked the time on his phone. His smile widened. "Take five, then we're running Act Two again," he said. "From the end of Act One so I can see the transition."

The cast dispersed, and Arashi immediately approached Sorata, nervous but determined. "Hey," he said, surprised.

"Your last lines were beautiful," she told him quietly. "It wasn't even sad, necessarily, but," she shook her head, her long hair swinging. "It all made me just…" She pressed her hand to her chest, blushing. Ordinarily she'd try to stifle the emotion, but now it either didn't seem worth it or she was just unable, she couldn't have said which. Sorata smiled softly at her, his heart swelling at the words.

"Thank you," he said, seriously. "Thank you very much." Arashi returned his smile and hurried past him into the lobby. Sorata followed her at a distance, looking bemused but pleased.

Running Act Two the second time was much smoother. The lighting cues were tighter, and working with them seemed to impress upon everyone just how close they were to opening night. Of course, Fuuma knew this confidence was only temporary, that tomorrow he could just as easily walk out of here feeling absolutely horrible, but his cast was in good spirits.

Karen delivered her last line and shut off the lamp for the last time, and Fuuma felt tension he hadn't realized he'd been carrying in his chest ease. "Cool," he said, loudly, getting to his feet as Satsuki brought up all the lights. "Get changed and be out. We'll start at noon tomorrow. Good?"

"Good!" Keiichi cried, enthusiastically.

"Awesome, see you soon." Under the swell of chatter and movement, Fuuma muttered to Nataku, "You mind closing up?"

"Of course not," Nataku replied, and Fuuma was out the door. He checked his phone and found two messages asking about tech, one from Seishiro and one from Camellia. Staring at both of their names on the screen, he recalled again, intensely and viscerally, having both of them by his side during Yoru. They'd had such potent collaborative power and their shared creative energy had been intoxicating and inspiring, and at that moment he found himself missing it so dearly it was like a stitch in his chest.

He pressed his phone against his breastbone as the sharp longing seemed to cave in inside his chest under the pressure of last year. Camellia been absorbed in another project and Seishiro had just been distant for reasons he never explained. Maybe that was what had been missing, when nothing had felt right and the entire process had been slow, trying and emotionally draining. He didn't want to put it entirely on them not being there, but…

A soft night breeze played across his face and he replied to both messages, 'so far so good, but I make no promises' and shoved his phone in his pocket.

Chapter Text

The next day, Fuuma walked into rehearsal in good spirits. He'd spent the rest of last night reading on the back porch and texting Seishiro ('are the other shows good this summer? I have no idea what else is going on') and Camellia ('yo if someone took me on a date to Atlantis it'd be a wrap') before going to sleep at the surprisingly reasonable hour of 1 AM and, even more surprisingly, had slept okay.

"Good morning!" he called as he entered the theater, swinging his water bottle. His cast, along with Satsuki, was already assembled and in costume, drinking coffee, texting and chatting, and they faced Fuuma with smiles and waves. "How are you all feeling today, good?" He smiled knowingly as a few people exchanged looks. "So I want to get through the rest of the play today, starting with the transition between Acts Two and Three. Whether or not that'll actually happen, I dunno, but it's a worthy goal, yes?"

"Yes!" Came the rallying cry.

"Sweet. Nataku, assign everyone stuff to move for the set change, please."

"Shouldn't we wait for the whole cast to get here to do that?" Nataku asked, deadpan stare firmly in place.

"The fuck are you talking about?" As if on cue, Subaru and Kamui came bursting into the theater, but then stopped in their tracks when they saw everyone staring at them.

"Oh shit are we late?" Kamui asked, his eyes widening as he took in his castmates while Subaru just looked away pointedly. "My bad, sorry!" Fuuma just tilted his head to the side, staring into Kamui's flushed but defiant face.

"Go get in costume so we can get started," he told them, conveying the unsaid "now" just by his tone. Subaru and Kamui scurried into the dressing room, avoiding everyone's eyes. "Talk amongst yourselves for a second," said Fuuma, taking his front row center seat as always while his cast broke into conversation. Satsuki stalked past him on her way to the lighting booth with an impatient wave over her shoulder.

"Are you all right?" Karen asked Kakyo up on stage. He started, but nodded.

"Yes, I'm fine, I just didn't sleep very well last night," he replied, running his fingers through his hair.

"I don't think anyone did," Karen said, sympathetically.

"Really?"

"Long days like that leave everyone wound up."

"I thought it was just me," Kakyo replied, embarrassed but relieved.

"Hey at least you and Kamui don't share a wall," Sorata cut in, leaning around Keiichi and Yuuto to address Karen and Kakyo. "Sorry to interrupt!" Kakyo blushed while the other three burst into more laughter.

"Ew," said Yuzuriha, wrinkling her nose, to even more laughter. However, before anyone else could comment, Subaru and Kamui reappeared in costume, still avoiding everyone's eyes.

"Finally," Nataku muttered to Fuuma, who ignored him. "Could I have everyone's attention, please?" He stepped up onto the stage and the cast gathered around him. "This set change will be during the first intermission, but let's still keep it as clean and efficient as possible." Affection glowed warmly in Fuuma's chest as he watched Nataku assign everyone things to carry and pieces to move. He really was the best stage manager Fuuma had ever had, and he mentally reaffirmed his promise to take Nataku with him when he left BTC. If he wanted to come. Truthfully Fuuma wasn't sure where Nataku went in the off season, as they never talked about it and had very little contact when they weren't working together. Like Seishiro, but more so.

The moment they were assigned jobs, everyone set to work. For a moment the stage was stripped to just the window frame in front of the screen, and Fuuma had a fleeting vision of striking the set after this was all over, but it was gone just as quickly as the cast reemerged with new set pieces and props. Before his eyes, the stage was transformed into a bedroom, with a full size bed upstage center in front of the window and wardrobes in front of the wings. A desk and chair sat downstage left with a standing lamp beside it. "Is this good?" Nataku asked from center stage. "Or do you want to add another huge piece of furniture?" A few people hastily stifled laughter.

"Nah, I'm with it," Fuuma replied in a dignified voice. "Everyone off the stage so I can see the lights, please?" His cast obeyed. "Go for it, Satsuki." She turned off all the lights, and the screen slowly came on in a deep, smokey grey with a soft red glow visible just above the window frame. Several people cried "Ooh!" and the tension in the room tightened perceptibly. Everything felt more closed in, almost oppressive, and Fuuma's lip curled in excitement. He imagined intermission ending, the lights coming back up for Act Three and the audience falling silent as they were taken in by the new set and intense tone shift. 'We'll need a song to get that shit completely right, though,' he thought.

"Do you want any other lights on?" Satsuki asked in a bored voice.

"The ones in the aisles, same as in Act Two." Satsuki brought them up, pale blue and barely visible unless you looked for them. "And you know what? Those lights downstage as well, but nothing too harsh." Satsuki turned on a set of lights at the edge of the stage closest to the audience, which, combined with the screen, created weird, oppressive shadows. "That's great, thank you. Jackson!"

"Yes?" Came Subaru's voice through the darkness.

"When you enter, turn on the lamp," said Fuuma.

"No problem!"

"All right, places please!" Fuuma called. Subaru and Kanoe took their marks in front of the stairs stage left while Yuzuriha took hers stage right. Everyone else found seats in the audience. "Cool. Let me see it." Subaru took Kanoe's hand and walked backwards up the stairs, helping her onto the stage. He made sure she was steady, then turned on the lamp.

"Aww," Nataku said, sarcastically, but Fuuma ignored him. He'd loved the exchange from the first time they'd rehearsed the scene with the stairs. Subaru had done it without any direction, and Fuuma's heart had swelled. He'd first discovered his soft spot for unexpected moments of tenderness when he'd read The Bean Trees in high school. He, along with all the characters in the scene, had been touched when Estevan had stopped his car to allow a mother duck and her ducklings to cross the road. However, only half of his classmates had seemed to care.

"Pathetic," Camellia had said, when he'd told her the story over a shared cigarette. "Your classmates I mean, not you."

"They were all probably high on their parents' pain meds already," Fuuma had replied, though he'd appreciated it.

"They're crying, the poor little things," Kanoe moaned distressedly to Subaru. "Crying, 'Daddy! We don't know where he is! What if he's burned up?!' How could they think such a thing?" Fuuma smiled. It had taken weeks of work, but at last Kanoe sounded genuinely horrified. Subaru closed his eyes and clenched his jaw as though he'd gagged before striding upstage, throwing open the wardrobe and seizing armfuls of clothes.

"Here, take these," he told Kanoe, carefully handing them to her. "Oh god this is so awful, the Youngs' house was completely burned down!"

"Can we do the headlight thing again?" Fuuma interrupted.

"This headlight thing?" asked Satsuki, causing a light to sweep across the audience and through the screen just as she'd done for Act Two.

"That headlight thing, only like-"

"This?" Satsuki created the effect again, though this time the light flashed like that of an emergency vehicle.

"Yes!" exclaimed Fuuma, grinning, before muttering to Nataku, "make sure there's a note in the program about flashing lights."

"Way ahead of you."

"In fact, do that at the top of the act!" Fuuma told Satsuki on a sudden inspiration. "Sorry, let me see it from the top again, with that effect." Kanoe rolled her eyes at Subaru, who shrugged, and they returned the clothes to the wardrobe and took their marks in front of the stairs again. Satsuki shut off everything except the screen, then passed the emergency light over. Again Fuuma imagined the audience at the top of the act, hearing the music and seeing the lights and feeling the tone shift. The lights in the aisles and downstage came on, and A broad grin spread across his face as Subaru helped Kanoe up the stairs to begin their lines.

"They're crying, the poor little things," moaned Kanoe. "Crying, 'Daddy! We don't know where he is! What if he's burned up?!' How could they think such a thing?!" Subaru switched on the lamp, then rushed upstage to start pulling clothes out of the wardrobe.

"Here, take these," he said, handing them to Kanoe. "Oh god this is so awful, the Youngs' house was completely burned down! Here, Nanny, give them everything, we don't need any of this! They can stay here with us too, we can't let them just go off to a hotel or something, oh god…" His voice broke and he hugged the clothes in his arms tighter to his chest. He took a moment, then kept going, his voice rising steadily. "The little girls can stay in the living room, Colonel Young can go to Transeau's! I don't know where the fuck Dr. Grant is but I'm positive he's drunk!" He stopped abruptly again, swallowing the almost hysterical words. Kanoe was by his side as fast as she could, shifting the bundle of clothes to one arm so she could gently cup the side of his face. Subaru gave a soft shudder and rubbed his face against her hand. "Mrs. Young can stay here too, we'll make room!" he finished, determinedly. Kanoe took a sudden, sharp breath in, and Subaru started at her expression.

"Jackson, darling, don't throw me away, please!" she cried, now sounding hysterical herself.

"What?" Subaru asked, stunned and confused. "What are you talking about, I'd never throw you away!"

"I work, I work so hard, but I'm getting feeble! Everyone tells me to get out!" Subaru dropped his armful of clothes onto the bed, then took Kanoe's bundle from her and did the same. "Where would I go?!" she cried, helplessly. Subaru put a comforting arm around her and helped her sit down on the edge of the bed.

"Shh, calm down, it's all right. Rest a second, it's all right." Yuzuriha approached the stairs downstage right, but Subaru didn't notice her as he continued to fuss over Kanoe. "Oh god you're looking pale now." He felt her forehead, and Yuzuriha allowed a beat before ascending the stairs.

"They're talking-"

"Hold up, give me another light like before," interrupted Fuuma, "then start your lines, Natalie." Yuzuriha hopped back down the stairs, leaving Subaru to feel Kanoe's forehead again. The lights flashed over the audience, illuminating the rest of the cast. Everyone was gazing up at Subaru and Kanoe with intense, eager expressions, except Yuuto, whose brow was furrowed as if he were in pain. However, before Fuuma could ponder the reasons for this, Yuzuriha began her line.

"They're talking about organizing a committee to help the victims of the fire!" she said, loudly, her tone either matter of fact or morbidly fascinated, depending on how you were listening. "I think it's a good idea," she continued, climbing the stairs, "that just goes without saying." Her eyes roved over the room before fixing upon Subaru, still tending to Kanoe and completely ignoring her. "Maddox and Nevaeh are asleep," she pressed on, loudly, her eyes narrowing. "They slept through all of this, even though there's so many people here!" Still Subaru ignored her. "There's a flu going around too, I'm scared the kids will get it!"

"We're safe from the fire here, I won't throw you away," Subaru soothed, rubbing Kanoe's back and squeezing her hand.

"What are you doing sitting down?!" snapped Yuzuriha, finally moving forward into Subaru and Kanoe's space and startling them. "Go make yourself useful!" Kanoe cast Yuzuriha a frightened look and got up before she could be told again. She gathered up the clothes and scurried away, discreetly wiping her eyes on them. Yuzuriha glared at her retreating back, a contemptuous sneer curling her mouth, while Subaru just sat still, eyes wide with shock. "I seriously do not understand why we haven't put her in a home," spat Yuzuriha.

"Excuse me?" demanded Subaru, getting to his feet. Yuzuriha tensed as though preparing to fight and spoke in a voice of forced calm.

"There's no reason to keep her around, she should be in a home where professionals can look after her. It's not my responsibility." The venom in her voice made both of them, as well as Fuuma, shudder. Yuzuriha took a moment, tucking her hair behind her ears and breathing deeply through her nose. Subaru folded his arms in front of his chest, also looking ready to fight. However, he said nothing, and a moment passed in painful silence. "You look so tired!" Yuzuriha burst out, though the sudden concern did nothing to ease the tension. She tried again. "Our headmaster is tired!" Subaru just stared back at her, waiting. "When the children grow up and go to high school they'll be afraid of you!"

"I'm not going to be headmaster," said Subaru, coldly.

"They'll pick you, it's already decided," Yuzuriha shot back.

"I'll turn it down, I don't have the energy!" countered Subaru, his voice rising again, "and the way you treated Nanny just now was not okay, what the fuck?!" He turned away from Yuzuriha to collect himself, holding his chest as though trying to keep his heart inside. Yuzuriha clenched her fists and stepped towards him.

"I'm sorry, Jackson! I didn't mean to upset you!" she cried, impatiently. She reached out to pat his arm, but he shrugged her away.

"No, you don't understand," he replied, doing his utmost to keep his voice steady while still refusing to look at Yuzuriha, whose jaw clenched harder than her fists. "I get that our lives are fucked up and the way we grew up is weird but I'm not having this!" He covered his mouth with one hand and took deep breaths through his nose.

"I'm sorry!" Yuzuriha cried, betraying her frustration.

"It was so unnecessary!" Subaru exploded, at last turning to face her. As per Fuuma's directions, he didn't approach her, indeed he seemed to be trying to make himself as small as possible, but she moved closer to him, her hand at her chest and expression imploringly frustrated as she tried valiantly for diplomacy.

"Sometimes I don't think before I say things, I know!" she cried, "but come on, she should be in a home!"

"She's been with us thirty years!"

"But she can't even work! All she does is sleep and sit!"

"Then let her sit!"

"What do you mean?!" Yuzuriha shouted, now right up in Subaru's face. "She's a nanny, we pay her!" Subaru turned away again, his hand over his mouth and his eyes closed. Yuzuriha clutched at her hair with white knuckled hands. "I don't understand, Jackson! I hire housekeepers and another nanny to watch Maddox and Nevaeh, why the hell do we need to keep this old woman around?!" She strode about the stage, her face flushed and eyes full of tears, and her frustration played out in massive, distorted shadows on the wardrobes upstage. Following the script's directions, Satsuki made the ambulance light sweep through the audience again, distracting Yuzuriha and Subaru from their argument. Seizing the opportunity, Subaru scooped up the rest of the clothes again, muttering,

"Tonight is taking years off my life." He strode past Yuzuriha, but she seized his upper arm.

"No! We're talking this out now, Jackson!" she shouted, forcing him around to face her. Her use of the word "talking," as though they were having a polite conversation about some innocuous topic, might have been funny were it not for the mutual dislike heavy over the encounter. Subaru jerked his arm away and readjusted the bundle of clothes protectively. "You're at the high school, I'm at home," Yuzuriha cried, gesturing wildly, her voice constricted as she blinked back tears. "You have your teaching, I have my housework, I know what I'm talking about!"

"That's why you hire all those people to do it for you, right?" Subaru asked, coldly. Fuuma's lip curled. Yuzuriha blinked, and tears ran down her face. However, they did nothing to soften Subaru's expression and she wiped them away impatiently.

"How dare you speak to me that way! Tomorrow that old witch will be gone, do you understand?!" Her teeth were bared and her tone was corrosive, but Subaru just shook his head contemptuously and pushed past her. "I don't want to fight with you!" Yuzuriha yelled after him. However, before he could exit downstage left, Yuuto appeared at the bottom of the stairs, blocking his way.

"Where's Maudie?" he asked, looking around obliviously. Subaru closed his eyes and took a steadying breath, but Yuuto just pushed past him onto the stage rather than wait for a response. He took no notice of Yuzuriha, who had turned away at once, sniffing and drying her eyes. "We need to be getting home," Yuuto continued, still looking around for Arashi. "The fire's starting to die down now." Neither Subaru nor Yuzuriha were listening. "The wind was so strong it seemed like the fire would spread, but thankfully only one street was burned." He crossed the stage and sank onto the bed, rubbing his temples. Again, Subaru tried to escape, but, "I'm worn out, Jackson," sighed Yuuto. Subaru shifted the clothes in his arms, but before he could reply,

"Fuck everybody, fuck them all…" Came Kusanagi's low, gravelly voice from the audience.

"Dr. Grant is on a bender, you hear him?" Yuuto asked, wearily.

"He hasn't had a drink in two years and fucking tonight he chooses to get absolutely shitfaced," Subaru snapped, unable to stop himself.

"Fuck everybody, fuck them all," Kusanagi repeated. Yuuto, Subaru and Yuzuriha all stiffened and turned to the source of the noise. Kusanagi approached the stairs stage right, muttering to himself. Yuuto and Yuzuriha tore across the stage to where Subaru was still clutching the bundle of clothes. The three of them watched Kusanagi in taut, tense silence as he sat down on the stairs, his knees up in his chest. He wasn't swaying or otherwise acting visibly intoxicated, but his eyes were out of focus and glassy. He reminded Fuuma of his parents and their friends at parties. "I'm a doctor, so they think I know how to cure everything," said Kusanagi. Subaru, Yuzuriha and Yuuto all exchanged looks. "But I don't-"

"Why is he lit that way?" Fuuma demanded, suddenly. He couldn't have said if it was the tension from the scene or adolescent memories or the fact that Kusanagi was lit awkwardly from the back and sides, but all of a sudden there was a knot in his chest he was desperate to ease.

"Because you didn't tell me differently," replied Satsuki, matching his snappish tone.

"Sorry," said Fuuma, sarcastically. "Could we get some light on Grant? Like the lights around the stage but more so." Satsuki rolled her eyes, but obliged, turning up the brightness and warmth on a spotlight over the stairs, which highlighted Kusanagi's exhausted expression perfectly. "Yeah that'll work." However, before Satsuki could feel relieved, "Let me see the other side too?" Satsuki recreated the effect over Subaru, Yuuto and Yuzuriha. "Oh shit that looks awesome!" Fuuma cried, though the knot in his chest only tightened. "I wanna see it again like this."

"From the top?" asked Subaru.

"Yeah. If I hate it I apologize in advance but it'll bother me if I don't see it. Places now, let's go." Everyone obeyed silently. Yuzuriha helped Subaru put all the clothes back into the wardrobe, then caught him by the arm as he made to return to his mark.

"Are you all right?" he asked, his eyes widening in concern as they descended the stairs together.

"Yeah! Just, I don't like yelling at you." She swallowed and squeezed his arm.

"Me neither, but it's okay," he told her, placing his hand on top of hers in solidarity. Yuzuriha gave him a warm smile, let go of his arm and hurried to take her place on the other side of the stage. The lights all went off.

"Do you want those lights up now? Or just after Jackson and Annemarie enter?" asked Satsuki.

"Um," Fuuma furrowed his brow and Nataku turned his laugh into a cough.

"I'll show you both," Satsuki answered for him, and Nataku turned his louder laugh into a louder cough.

"Yeah, fine. Jackson, Annemarie, take your entrance and first few lines, please." And so they did, running through it with each configuration. However, there were pros and cons to both which made it hard to decide. "Again." They ran it again. "Um…" They ran it again. And again. "What do you think?" Fuuma asked Satsuki after the fifth time.

"I think make the call then step away before you can second guess it," she replied. Fuuma turned in his seat to look at her, and though her expression was hard, he knew she actually meant it to be helpful. And that she was right.

"Let me see it both ways one more time." Subaru and Kanoe did so, and though Fuuma still felt conflicted, "Fuck it, keep them on the whole time."

"That's my opinion too," said Satsuki, and Fuuma chose to hear her professional opinion rather than a desire to move on. He looked at Nataku, silently demanding his opinion.

"I agree with Satsuki." Fuuma sighed heavily.

"All right. Let's," he paused to check the time on his phone and his eyes widened at a text from Seishiro. "Let's take five, then get back in." He got up and left the theater with his water bottle and cellphone, ignoring the disgruntled mutterings of his cast at the abruptness of the change. Once out in the lobby, he read the text eagerly.

'I've got some board things to take care of, I'll be up there tonight' Fuuma's eyes widened, but then the knot in his chest immediately unwound and a broad grin spread across his face.

'wait seriously? cool!' He decided not to ask why he hadn't told him so last night when they'd been texting. 'what time can I expect you? we should finish at 10 assuming nothing catastrophic happens' Chat bubbles appeared almost at once and Fuuma's heart swelled, but then, 'Oh fuck the screens!'

'That's never safe to assume… I'll be home when you get done, though.' The text distracted Fuuma immediately and his heart swelled full to bursting again. Not only was Seishiro coming up here, he was being chill about it. Almost friendly!

'awesome' Fuuma smiled at the message, then hesitated a moment before adding, 'be ready' As he sent the text, he remembered Seishiro on Facetime the week before, his entire body shaking as he pleased himself, only managing one or two strokes before he had to stop, hand and thighs and erection wet with lube and precum…

'shouldn't you be at work?'

'shouldn't you~?' Fuuma returned his phone to his pocket and took a deep swig from his water bottle, feeling immensely pleased with himself and suddenly much more motivated to get through the rest of the play. He practically skipped back into the theater, then called his cast to order, though no one had really moved from where he'd left them.

"Let's take it from your monologue, Dr. Grant," he said. Everyone fell silent at once and the collective focus locked on Kusanagi, slumped on the stairs downstage right. He took a deep breath in, and as he sighed it out, hunched forward and his eyes became unfocused. The action rippled out through everyone watching as though they'd all suddenly inhaled from the same intoxicating cloud.

"Fuck them all," Kusanagi said, his voice low and gravelly. Subaru, Yuuto and Yuzuriha all looked at each other in exasperated concern from the opposite corner. "Last Thursday I treated a woman at the hospital," Kusanagi continued to himself. "She died. And it's my fault she died." Subaru took a sharp breath in while Yuzuriha and Yuuto clapped their hands to their mouths. "Maybe twenty five years ago it could have been different, but now I can't remember a goddamn fucking thing." He said it coldly, matter-of-factly, no self pity or theatrics. "My head is empty. My soul is empty. All I do is eat, walk and sleep." He stopped talking abruptly and stared unseeingly at the audience. Yuuto muttered something indistinct to Subaru and Yuzuriha, and they nodded and exited upstage left, casting Kusanagi worried looks over their shoulders. Backstage, Yuzuriha helped Subaru deposit his armful of clothes in a bin beside the prop table before they snuck around the stage and back into the audience, taking seats on either side of Kamui.

"You all right?" he asked Yuzuriha under his breath. She nodded, her lips pressed tightly together and eyes staring fixedly at Kusanagi.

"Who the hell knows?" he asked, heaving himself to his feet and slouching slowly upstage. He took no notice of Yuuto, who was still poised across the stage, waiting at any moment to step in. "Day before yesterday I was hanging around with the other doctors, and everyone's name dropping Shakespeare, Voltaire… I've never read them!" He threw his hands up helplessly and stared around the stage with glazed eyes. "I've never read them but I act like I have and so did everyone else!" He paused, as though the fact that he found it all offensive had only just occurred to him. "Shabby fuckers!" he snapped, gesturing wildly, his elongated shadow dancing on the screen and wardrobe behind him. A moment's silence passed, during which Karen, Sorata and Kakyo all prepared for their entrance from the stairs downstage left. "And then I remembered that woman who died on Thursday, and I went out and started drinking." He sank onto the bed with his face in his hands.

"Give him a moment before entering," said Fuuma, breaking the tension. Karen sighed, hesitating, then,

"They'll leave us alone here." She looked and sounded absolutely exhausted as she led Sorata and Kakyo up the stairs.

"The whole city would have burned down if it weren't for the soldiers," Sorata said in shell-shocked wonderment. Karen and Kakyo tried to help him towards the bed, but then stopped at the sight of Kusanagi. Yuuto hurried towards them at once.

"What time is it?" he asked.

"Stop a second, we need more light," Fuuma interrupted. The soft lights and screen weren't enough now there were so many people on stage.

"I was gonna say," said Satsuki. She pressed a few buttons and moved a few sliders, and it suddenly looked like an overhead light had been turned on in the bedroom.

"That's perfect," said Fuuma, waving at her over his shoulder. "Once the three of them enter, go ahead and turn them on."

"Sounds good."

"Let's have your line again, please, Kirsch."

"What time is it?" Yuuto asked.

"Four AM," replied Kakyo, looking to Karen, who sighed impatiently.

"Everyone's in our living room. Even Jepsen's here. You should be sleeping this off, Doctor," she added sternly to Kusanagi. However, when she and Kakyo tried to help him to his feet, he waved them away.

"Never mind, thank you," he said, standing up. His eyes were still glazed, but he looked marginally more awake. Sorata took his seat on the edge of the bed and hid his face in his hands.

"You're tanked, Doctor!" Yuuto cried, clapping Kusanagi on the shoulder. "Good for you! In vino veritas, the ancients said." Karen and Kakyo exchanged incredulous looks while Kusanagi trudged upstage left and picked an old clock up from the bedside table.

"Do you want more light upstage?" Satsuki asked, preemptively. Fuuma narrowed his eyes at the scene.

"That's a good question. I guess it only really matters when he smashes the clock, right?" He crossed his arms in front of his chest. "I mean, you can see up there well enough, and it'd look fucking stupid if he came downstage just to smash the thing…" Nataku cleared his throat and Fuuma closed his eyes for a moment, willing himself not to lose patience. "Let's skip to the clock smashing. Give Grant the cue please, Irene?" Karen and Kakyo moved downstage right, framing Kusanagi. Sorata remained on the bed with Yuuto standing beside him, watching.

"And we'll be gone!" Karen said, loudly. Kusanagi, backlit by the smoky reddish black of the screen, let go of the clock. It fell to the floor and smashed. Everyone, whether on stage or in the audience, jumped and stared at Kusanagi, except Fuuma, who looked to Karen instead. The first time they'd actually run the scene with a clock smashing, she'd shuddered and turned away. Fuuma had asked if she was okay, but apparently she hadn't realized she'd done it. After weeks of rehearsal, though, she was fine, in fact she glared at Kusanagi, silently demanding an explanation. Kusanagi stared back at them unflinchingly.

"Smithereens," he said, matter-of-factly.

"That works," Fuuma said, loudly, shattering the tension like the clock and making everyone in the room jump again. "Now let's skip ahead, sorry…" He flipped through his script.

"Why are you so impatient?" asked Nataku, his eyes narrowing as much as they ever did.

"Don't worry about it," replied Fuuma, obnoxiously. "Kirsch's line, no, Maudie's line, where you're angrily conjugating amare."

"Wait, make sure that clock gets picked up," said Nataku, who didn't need to raise his voice to be heard.

"Oh damn, sorry!" exclaimed Karen, and she and Yuuto picked up the pieces. "Here I can take them backstage."

"Careful," said Yuuto, handing her his pieces. The clock always broke the same way every time and was easy to put back together, but still, the edges were sharp.

"Ha ha, thanks." Karen darted backstage, placed the pieces on the prop table, then returned to her mark. Yuuto sat down on the edge of the bed as Arashi walked up the stairs, passing Sorata and Kakyo leaving the stage together. She smiled at Sorata, and he smiled back.

"Do you want more light on the bed now?" Satsuki asked, rather bitterly, as Arashi lay down beside Yuuto.

"Nah, but they keep saying the fire's dying down so let's have the screen reflect that, yes?" Satsuki reduced the redness until Fuuma was satisfied. It softened Yuuto's outline rather beautifully, and she remembered the sun setting behind him on their afternoon together, how the light had caught the gold of his hair. "Yeah that's much better, you're the best!"

"Fuck off."

"Okay, let me see it!"

"Amo, amas, amat, amamus, amatis, amant," Arashi snapped, while Yuuto just laughed and stroked her hair.

"I love, you love, he or she or they loves, we love, y'all love, they love," Fuuma said, softly.

"See? We've been married seven years and it's like no time's passed at all," said Yuuto. "I feel so content…" Arashi sat up on the edge of the bed, facing the audience and shrugging Yuuto's hand away impatiently.

"And I feel sick and tired," she spat, running her fingers through her hair. "Fucking Andrew! I can't stop thinking about it! He's mortgaged this house again, and his parasite wife stole all the money even though the house belongs to all four of us and he knows that!" Fuuma smiled widely at her pain laced fury.

"What's that for?" Nataku asked, under his breath.

"She's just gotten so much better."

"Go home," Arashi told Yuuto, wearily, still with her back to him. Yuuto didn't argue, just sighed softly and moved Arashi's hair off the back of her neck to give her a tender kiss there.

"Rest. I'll be outside if you need me." He exited downstage left, saying, "I feel so content…" to whoever was listening. Arashi pulled all her hair in front of her shoulder and combed through it with her fingers defensively. Karen waited until Yuuto was gone before sitting beside Arashi on the end of the bed. They both looked rather sickly all of a sudden.

"Andrew's become so shallow and pathetic since he got married," said Karen. "Remember when he had all those plans to become a professor?" Arashi tossed her hair back over her shoulder. "Now he's thrilled to get onto the fucking city council with Nathan as chairman! Literally everyone is laughing at him and he has no idea!" She shook her head, and it was impossible to tell if she felt more sympathetic or disgusted. However, when she next spoke, she was unmistakably horrified. "Tonight though! Everyone runs off to the fire and his weak ass is by himself in his room playing violin, because that's all he does now! Fuck this!" Her voice thickened and her eyes filled with tears. Arashi tried to comfort her but she just got to her feet, her hand over her mouth. "I can't, I just can't do it anymore!" She made to exit downstage right and almost collided with Subaru as he attempted to enter that way.

"Whoa, what happened? Why are you crying?" he asked, catching her by the upper arms.

"It's all gone!" Karen sobbed, clutching at Subaru's chest. "Oh god I've forgotten everything! It's gone! I can't remember anything!" Subaru pulled her close and rubbed up and down her back, his eyes closing and brow furrowing as if he were in pain. "Every day I forget more and we just keep going forward and there's fuck all we can do about it and we'll never get back to New York-"

"Shh, it's all right, it's all right," Subaru told her, firmly but kindly. However, Karen just kept going while Arashi watched them with a look of exhausted concern on her face.

"I'm so unhappy!" Karen exclaimed, without an ounce of self-pity, and Fuuma smiled widely.

"Is it weird to just say it?" he'd asked her, the first time she'd delivered the line that way and taken herself by surprise.

"Not anymore," she'd replied, smiling. "But I sometimes forget that you can." Fuuma had nodded, but hadn't pressed her.

"I can't keep working like this," Karen continued, wiping her tears on Subaru's shirt. "I feel like my brain's dried up. I'm skinny and ugly and old and have absolutely nothing to show for it."

"Please don't cry," soothed Subaru, but she just extricated herself from his embrace impatiently.

"I'm not crying, I'm done, you see? Enough!"

"Listen," Subaru persisted. "If it were me? I'd just get with Transeau. Yeah he's not a model but who is around here? He's a good guy, and he's been head over heels for you for how long?"

"I love that trope," Fuuma muttered, lazily. "When the character isn't good looking but the actor is."

"Neither Kakyo nor Hokuto see it like that," replied Nataku.

"Don't be rude."

"Getting married for love always ends badly for us, but getting married as a way out seems like a pretty good option!" Subaru told Karen, cajolingly.

"You know what, can we just take it to Natalie's walk by?" Fuuma interrupted. Subaru let go of Karen and they both started to move, only to realize they'd be in exactly the same position and exchanging frazzled looks. Yuzuriha sprang from her seat and took her place in the audience stage left. "Give her the cue please, Jackson."

"I'd do it in a fucking second." Yuzuriha rushed past the front of the stage, illuminated creepily by the lights above the stairs. Karen, Subaru and Arashi watched her, momentarily distracted.

"Suspect as fuck," Arashi muttered, darkly. "You think maybe she set the fire?"

"Yeah, that'll work," said Fuuma, smirking. "Okay now… Let's skip right to Andrew's entrance." He smiled at Kamui, who tried not to look too pleased with himself as he got to his feet and took his place in front of the stairs stage right. He looked over at Fuuma, who nodded.

"Jackson?!" Kamui barged into the conversation and Subaru, Arashi and Karen all jumped, then looked at him as though he were a pet that had dragged something dead into the house. "There you are! I need the keys to the bookcase, I can't find mine!" The words hung awkwardly in the air for a moment before Subaru dug his keys out of his pocket and thrust them at Kamui. He took them and his arm fell limply to his side. "That fire was fucking crazy, right?" he asked, trying and failing to sound upbeat and conversational. A moment passed in painful silence. "Why aren't you talking?" No one answered. Kamui's lip twitched and he looked momentarily childlike and hurt, but then he balled his hands into fists, his knuckles white in the pale lights above the stairs. "All right, you know what? Get off your fucking high horses, I'm tired of it! All three of you are here, let's actually fucking talk. What is your problem with me?!"

"Andrew, shut up," Subaru said, dismissively. "We'll talk about it tomorrow morning." However, it was clear from his tone that he had absolutely no intention of doing so. He pressed himself up off of the bed and crossed the stage, muttering darkly.

"Don't get upset, I'm asking you calmly!" snapped Kamui. Subaru gave him an incredulous look over his shoulder. Kamui went very red and took a few deep breaths before trying again. "Why are you three so angry with me?" he asked, and though he sounded calmer, his voice still shook.

"Come on baby, let's ride," Sorata sang softly from the audience.

"We can escape to the great sunshine!" Arashi sang back, loudly and crudely, perking up at once. She kissed Karen on the top of the head, then rushed to Subaru's side. "Good night. Sleep well, okay?" She stood on tiptoe to kiss him on the cheek. "Andrew, go away. We'll talk about it in the morning." Kamui opened his mouth to argue back, but Subaru forestalled him.

"Seriously, Andrew, please?"

"Let me just say one thing!" Kamui exploded. "I know you all hate Natalie, I've known that from the start, but I don't care!" Arashi rolled her eyes and exited downstage left without another word. "She's beautiful, she's smart, she's understanding and I love and respect her, so I want you to love and respect her too!" Subaru folded his arms and Karen placed her hands behind her on the bed and leaned into them. "She's a smart, understanding person!" Kamui pressed on. "So all your criticism is bullshit anyway!" He stopped speaking and closed his eyes to collect himself, framed between Subaru, lit up by the light above the stairs, and Karen, backlit by the screen and overhead light, while he himself was in shadow. For a moment they remained still, until Subaru sighed impatiently and exited after Arashi. "You're also mad at me for not becoming a professor," Kamui continued, opening his eyes though he didn't seem to notice his siblings' departures. "But I don't care about that anymore! I serve the people on the City Council and I think that's way more valuable than getting up my own ass with academics!" Karen got to her feet with an eyeroll and exited upstage right.

"Hold up a second," Fuuma interrupted. "Satsuki, that downstage center light, could you turn it up?" She did so, and Kamui screwed up his eyes and made an indignant noise. "Without blinding anyone?" Fuuma added, impatiently. Satsuki brought down the light, but, "In fact, turn off the overhead lights too." Satsuki sighed, but pulled the slider down. Kamui blinked crossly, but lit from below he looked drained and exhausted. "Yeah that's exactly what I want," Fuuma said, decisively. "Take that exit again, Irene, and shut off the standing lamp as you go." Kamui recited the cue and Karen took her exit, switching off the lamp as she did so. The light downstage suddenly struck Kamui, illuminating his anguish, his frustration and sleep deprivation. Behind him, the screen was still grey and smoky. "Yes," Fuuma said, simply.

"I guess the last issue is that I mortgaged the house again without talking to you first," Kamui said, meandering downstage center and looking out over the audience unseeingly. "I know I fucked up and I'm sorry! I just, I've lost so much money and I didn't know what else to do, and I'm sorry! I stopped going to the casinos but my income is still fucked!" He broke off with a great shuddering breath, his eyes screwed up against the emotion.

"Maudie's not here?" Yuuto asked, quietly, as he appeared at the bottom of the stairs downstage left. Kamui ignored him. "That's weird, where did she go?" He turned and began to walk around in front of the stage, nearly running into Kakyo and Keiichi, who were crossing in the opposite direction. As per Fuuma's instructions, everyone else got up and began to hurry past each other, rushing or stumbling, holding hands or shoving each other with their shoulders.

"They don't listen to me," Kamui said, tearfully. "Natalie's an amazing person!" He shuddered and wrapped his arms around himself, then sank down onto the stage, his legs dangling over the edge. "When I got married I thought we'd be happy, that everyone would be happy, but oh fuck…" His voice trailed away helplessly and he began to cry in earnest. "I'm so fucked up, this is so fucked up…" He slid off the edge of the stage and hurried out through the audience.

"Maudie? Where are you?" Yuuto cried.

"Jackson?" Karen called, reemerging upstage. "Who keeps knocking?" Kusanagi banged on the side of the stage as he continued to circle it.

"The Doctor's drunk ass," Subaru replied, stepping up onto the stage.

"What the fuck tonight…?" Karen asked, wearily. Subaru sank onto the edge of the bed, his elbows on his knees and face in his hands.

"Turn off the lights on the stairs!" Fuuma said, loudly. Satsuki obeyed, leaving just the light downstage center and the screen. "Cool. Keep going."

"Jackson?" Karen asked, quietly, coming to sit beside Subaru. "Did you hear? The brigade is leaving. They're going somewhere far away." In response, everyone rushing around in the aisle and in front of the stage returned to their seats in the audience. Subaru turned to look at her, the silence and stillness echoing sadly.

"That's just a rumor." He tried to smile and she tried to return it.

"We'll be all alone here, Jackson!" she said, with a brave attempt at playfulness.

"Yeah," Subaru replied, trying his hardest to reciprocate.

"Transeau's a good guy, right?" Karen asked, still trying to sound playful even as she gripped Subaru's arm desperately. "I'll tell him, we'll get together!" Subaru nodded encouragingly, his eyes huge and lip trembling. "But please, promise me we'll go back to New York!" Subaru pulled Karen into an embrace and Satsuki killed the lights. Fuuma stood up, and, after checking the time on his phone,

"Reset for the top of the act, I wanna see it all again!" He heard everyone sigh as Satsuki brought up the lights, but he didn't care. The image of everyone running around in front of the stage while Kamui delivered his lines seemed to be burned into his mind, and he wanted to see it again before dinner.

The second stumble through was far less energetic, but Fuuma was still satisfied. Just like the day before, he was caught up in what everything looked like rather than how it felt or sounded, though he'd be lying if he said he wasn't pleased with that too. For the second time, Karen delivered her last line, and Satsuki killed the lights. Even in the darkness, Fuuma knew everyone was looking at him. "Bring up the lights, please, Satsuki?" She did so, and Fuuma allowed his cast a wide smile. "Really good work so far today," he told them, and he meant it, despite Nataku's disbelieving little noise in his throat. "Get the stage ready for Act Four and we'll break for dinner."

Everyone took a breath in together, then sighed it out. Nataku got to his feet and began assigning everyone set pieces to carry and props to move. Again, the set was stripped bare, and Fuuma had another fleeting glimpse of what it would look like at the end of the summer, but then the set for Act Four began to emerge. It was the Perspicuo's back garden, with potted plants in front of the wings and no window frame in front of the screen. A white wicker table sat center stage, with matching chairs set around it and the espresso machine and cups on top of it. Satsuki turned on the house lights, and Fuuma blinked in the sudden brightness before checking his cellphone. There was nothing new from Seishiro, but it didn't matter. He'd have him in person later.

"I'm so fucking tired," Kamui cried, emergecing from the neck of his shirt and shaking his hair out of his eyes. They were back in the dressing room, simultaneously drained and energized from rehearsal.

"That's what you get for being up so late," said Sorata, grinning at him from scross the room.

"Jealous?" Kamui asked, also grinning.

"Oh shit!" chorused their castmates. Sorata seized a faded pillow off one of the worn out chairs and threw it at Kamui. He ducked just in time and the pillow hit Kakyo, standing innocently behind him, instead. "Ohhh!"

"Oh fuck, I'm sorry!" Sorata cried, mortified, and rushed over.

"Nice throw, dumb ass," Kamui scolded, checking on Kakyo, who looked more surprised than anything.

"I didn't think you had reflexes, my bad!" Sorata shot back, to more laughter and expletives.

"You've played soccer with me, fuck outta here!"

"Are you okay though, seriously?" Sorata asked Kakyo, quietly.

"What? Oh I'm fine, don't worry about me," he assured him, blushing. He then realized all his castmates were looking at him expectantly. He swallowed, then said, bravely, "I've taken pillows to the face before." Everyone laughed, and he was gratified.

"Hasn't everyone?" Keiichi asked, to more laughter and agreement.

"Pillows were Hokuto's weapon of choice once I got taller than her," Subaru said, reminiscently. Kakyo's blush deepened.

"Are they still?" Kusanagi asked, mildly.

"Only when I deserve it."

"I see…"

"Speaking of Kamui's reflexes, are we still playing now? Or are you guys too tired?" Keiichi asked. Sorata and Kamui exchanged a look.

"I'm down if you are."

"Sure!"

"Sweet!" Everyone finished getting out of costume, then left the dressing room in a chattering group. In the lobby, they ran into Kanoe, Yuzuriha, Karen and Arashi. Yuuto made a b line for Kanoe, and the two of them left together through the glass doors, calling goodbye over their shoulders. Kusanagi followed at a distance, waving and smiling and catching Yuzuriha's eye. Kamui grinned.

"Dude, Yuzuriha come-"

"I don't want to see the video of Kusanagi deadlifting Subaru again, Kamui." Kamui clutched his chest in a moment of mock outrage, then said, composedly,

"I was gonna say you should come watch us play soccer. You too, of course," he added to Arashi and Karen. Behind him, Sorata caught Arashi's eye and smiled. Arashi looked to Yuzuriha, but then nodded.

"Sure."

Satsuki waited until the theater was deserted before slinking out of the lighting booth. She'd had a feeling Yuuto and Kanoe would want to talk to her and didn't have the energy for it. Or maybe she was just being paranoid. Either way, she sighed as she walked through the sunny lobby, a dull ache developing under her right shoulder blade.

All things considered, though, Fuuma had been behaving himself, and like yesterday it was gratifying to be doing what she as good at and getting praised for it. However, as she left the lobby and made her way to her bike chained up outside, she knew better than to be optimistic. They weren't even done with their second day. She put on her helmet and unlocked her bike in the now deserted parking lot, thinking of riding home and resting. Or just out into the woods.

Two hours later, everyone was back in the Igarashi, in costume and ready to get started. Fuuma noticed they weren't quite as restored after the break as they had been yesterday, but if anything that gave him an excuse to end early and get home to Seishiro sooner. 'Shit motherfucker fuck shit the screens! I should have fixed them during break!'

"Fuuma?" Nataku asked, as though he knew what he was thinking.

'Whatever, he won't care about the screens once I get him naked.' "What's up?"

"Nothing," replied Nataku, tilting his head to the side. "Should we get started?"

"Yes! Yes we should. Okay everybody listen up!" he called, refocusing his cast. "Like I said, I wanna try and get through the rest of the play tonight, so let's at least somewhat finish Act Four."

"Yeah!" cried Keiichi.

"Indeed. Places for the top of the act, please." Kusanagi, Karen and Kakyo took the seats around the wicker table while Yuuto stood a little ways apart from them, facing stage right, and Kamui snuck backstage to get a prop. Everyone else took seats in the audience and Satsuki killed the house lights and fired up the screen for the last time. After a moment, it glowed a springy greenish yellow.

"Lovely!" exclaimed Fuuma, flinging himself into his usual seat.

"What else do you want on?" Satsuki asked, massaging her shoulder, which the break and ibuprofen had done nothing for.

"Just something overhead so it looks like a sunny day outside." Satsuki sighed, but pushed a few sliders and pressed a few buttons, and Fuuma was impressed by how much it looked like natural light. "Perfect!"

"Do you want the lights in the aisles on too?"

"Let me see? Yes I do. Thanks, Satsuki!" She rolled her eyes and massaged her shoulder more. "All right, let me see it."

"The brigade is leaving today. It's the end of an era!" Kakyo said in a sarcastically wistful tone.

"This place will finally get some peace and quiet," said Kusanagi, looking out over the audience.

"And crippling boredom," added Karen, in a mock bitter voice, her eyes on Kakyo.

"I'll be joining them tomorrow," said Kusanagi, stretching. "One more day here, then in a year I can retire, come back and live out the rest of my life here with you guys." He fixed Karen with a deeply affectionate smile, placed his hand on her forearm and gave it a squeeze. "I'll be a changed man when I get back! Benevolent, well-behaved, nice to people…" Karen rolled her eyes, but then placed her hand on top of his.

"It'll do you good."

"I'm feeling it!" Kusanagi exclaimed. "Tarara… Boom de-ay, I sit in gloom all day!"

"You're beyond help, Doctor," Yuuto told Kusanagi, dryly.

"No, don't say that!" he shot back, though he was grinning broadly. "Teach me better!" A few people laughed, and Kamui, who had been lurking in the audience upstage right, began to slowly push a baby stroller along the side of the stage, humming softly and smiling a tired smile at the imaginary baby within. Karen's eyes darted to him for a fraction of a second, but she said nothing. He looked rather eerie in the faint blue white lights despite the warmth of the rest of the stage.

"What were you doing downtown yesterday, Doctor?" Karen asked. Kakyo shifted uncomfortably in his chair, and though Karen cast him a curious look, it was Kusanagi who spoke.

"What was I doing? Nothing, just trivia. It doesn't matter." Karen gave him a thoroughly mistrustful look.

"Supposedly Transeau and Jepsen got into something outside the theater!" Yuuto said, just loudly enough to carry over to the rest of the group. Karen turned sharply to Kakyo while Kusanagi just heaved a heavy sigh and reached for his cellphone.

"Shut the fuck up, please?" Kakyo snapped at Yuuto with as much dignity as he could, before getting to his feet and exiting upstage left without another word. Karen watched him go, then turned to Kusanagi, silently demanding an explanation even as he was staring determinedly at his phone. However, Yuuto scurried over to take Kakyo's vacated seat and leaned in conspiratorially.

"It's true! Jepsen was instigating, stirring the pot, and Transeau wouldn't stand for it. Words were exchanged!" Karen made a disgusted noise and crossed her arms and legs while Kusanagi just kept his eyes on his phone. "They're saying Jepsen's in love with Irene and hates Transeau now. Understandably!" Yuuto continued, lowering his voice for dramatic effect.

"Ugh…" muttered Satsuki.

"Irene's lovely," Yuuto said, thoughtfully, tucking a strand of Karen's hair behind her ear. "She's like Maudie, but with a milder temperament. Maudie's temperament is fine too, of course. I adore her, my Maudie." His eyes strayed up to the lighting booth.

"Ugh," muttered Satsuki again. The lines continued, and though Fuuma made occasional suggestions, there wasn't much to do in this scene, or at least there wasn't anything pressing, until,

"Satsuki, can you bring up the lights above Maudie and Grant just a bit?" he called, suddenly, bringing the scene to a halt.

"Do you mean make them brighter? Or the color more saturated?"

"Brighter, but only, like, the tiniest bit."

"Here we go," sighed Nataku, but,

"Yeah that's good. For now just keep it like that, as much as I wanna run through the whole thing all over again." There was a collective sigh of relief and a few soft laughs. "I've got you for a ten out of twelve tomorrow, don't even," Fuuma said, dangerously, though he couldn't help but smile. "Keep going." Arashi and Kusanagi, alone at the table now, snapped back into character at once.

"Were you really in love with my mother?" Arashi asked.

"Passionately," Kusanagi replied, without a moment's hesitation.

"Was she ever in love with you?" Kusanagi thought for a moment.

"To be honest, I can't remember anymore," he said, gazing wistfully, though affectionately, at Arashi. She wrapped her arms tight around herself and looked down.

"People keep telling me I'm a bitch," she told her knees, sounding genuinely hurt. "But when you only get scraps of happiness you have to snatch at them, and it toughens you up." It was just a statement, no self pity or grandiosity or even anger or sadness. Fuuma smirked, thrilled to pieces, while in the lighting booth Satsuki snorted and leaned over the switchboards, trying to stretch her shoulder.

"Good shit!" Fuuma called, loudly. "Can we skip ahead to…" He flipped through his script. "When Dr. Grant tells Jackson about what happened with Transeau and Jepsen." Arashi caught Sorata's eye, and he smiled at her. She wondered if he was feeling as disappointed as she was at skipping Maudie and Young's goodbye, then flushed. That was ridiculous for many reasons. "So I need Grant, Jackson, Maudie and Irene on stage, please. Satsuki!"

"Yes?"

"I want the lights off by the time we get to Jackson's line." Satsuki took off her glasses and pinched the bridge of her nose.

"How do you mean?"

"I want them to fade, like…" He stood up and faced Satsuki in the lighting booth, his arms outstretched like a sleepwalker. "This!" He raised his arms up, then brought them down, slowly.

"You mean gradually?" Satsuki asked, impatiently, slowly dimming all the lights on stage. "As opposed to," she brought the lights back up, then shut them off, making everyone jump.

"Yes," Fuuma snapped through the sudden darkness. "I also want the light to focus on the three of them without it being obvious!" Satsuki brought up the lights impatiently, making everyone jump again.

"I'm going to repeat what you just said to me. I-"

"I know what the fuck I said," Fuuma interrupted, doing his utmost not to get frustrated, but,

"Okay that's enough," Nataku cut in. "Let's just run the last few lines." Fuuma closed his eyes, caught between wanting to argue and having the scene as teched as possible. He exhaled sharply through his nose and opened his eyes.

"Whatever, let's just run the scene, I'm sure you'll figure something out." Satsuki bit back her retort, the pain in her upper back getting worse as she reset the lights, wanting more than anything just to get this over with.

"Where are we taking it from?" Kusanagi asked, patiently.

"Your line," Fuuma said, willing his heart rate to slow down as he threw himself backwards into his seat. He wasn't even sure where his frustration was coming from, and that made it so much more annoying. Whatever, he could take it out on Seishiro later.

"I need to tell you something?"

"Yeah." Kusanagi rolled his eyes at Satsuki up in the lighting booth and she mimed shooting herself in the head in return. Suppressing a snort of laughter, Kusanagi got into position at the top of the stairs downstage right. Subaru came downstage center, while Karen and Arashi remained stage left. "Let me see it!" Fuuma called, loudly, and everyone's attention sharpened immediately.

"I need to tell you something," Kusanagi hissed to Subaru, striding to his side and taking his arm. Subaru leaned in towards him, his brow furrowed as Kusanagi whispered in his ear. His entire aspect sagged in horror.

"No," he said, pulling away to face Kusanagi, whose expression was grave. "No!"

"It was awful," Kusanagi said, sounding like he was fighting the urge to throw up. "It was fucking awful and I'm exhausted and it doesn't matter anyway!" He strode upstage and sank into a chair, leaving Subaru in stunned disbelief to face his sisters.

"What happened?" Arashi asked. Subaru rushed across the stage and pulled Karen into his arms.

"I'm so sorry!" he cried. Karen stiffened and tried to catch Arashi or Kusanagi's eye, hoping someone would elaborate.

"What-"

"I hate to be the one to tell you this," Subaru moaned, pulling away and holding Karen at arms length. "I…"

"What happened?!" Karen demanded, close to furious tears. Subaru opened his mouth, but when he was apparently unable to speak, Kusanagi cut in, still sounding as though he were about to be sick.

"Transeau's dead. Jepsen brought a gun with him." The words hung in the shocked, taut silence and Karen's eyes filled slowly with tears.

"There!" Fuuma interrupted. "Start focusing the lights downstage!"

"For fuck's sake," Kusanagi muttered, the emotion still strong in his body despite the broken tension. He wasn't the only one: everyone else was shuddering and wrapping their arms around themselves or else pressing their hands to their mouths and chests.

"Like this?" Satsuki asked, lowering the lights around the perimeter of the stage.

"Stop there!"

"Fuck you," Satsuki muttered. She should have been impervious to the emotions and tension, up in her lighting booth and above such things anyway. However, today it all was floating up and engulfing her like a noxious gas, leaving her unsettled and edgy with her upper back more painful than ever. "Do you want it to end up here? Or is this the starting point?" she asked Fuuma, and the pain in her upper back throbbed again as the whole room tensed.

"I don't know, do I? I haven't seen it yet," Fuuma replied, as patiently as he could. "Bring the lights up again?" Satsuki did so. "Let's try getting there in the end and then I'll tell you what's up. Keep going!" Kusanagi, Subaru, Karen and Arashi assumed their positions again.

"I knew it," Karen said, softly and tearfully. Arashi rushed to her side and Subaru took her into his arms again.

"Let them all cry!" Kusanagi called, despairingly, throwing his arms up in the air. "Get it out!" He began to pace back and forth upstage, silhouetted against the screen in the slowly dimming light. "Tarara boom de-ay, I sit in gloom all day! Who gives a fuck?" Karen was now crying fluently in Subaru's arms.

"We have to keep going though, right?" Arashi said, fiercely. "We have to!"

"We have to," Karen agreed through her tears. "Until someone figures out what the point of this all is…" She extricated herself from Subaru's embrace and wiped her eyes determinedly. "I'll go away on my own, I don't care! I'll go back to school and then I'll work! I'll always work!" The lights around the perimeter of the stage were at their lowest point now, leaving Subaru, Arashi and Karen in a tightly lit spot and backlit by the screen.

"Lower!" Fuuma called, and Satsuki obeyed, making the effect all the more dramatic. "Yes! Keep going!"

"We'll all die anyway," Subaru said, more exhausted than ever but somehow more determined for it. "No one will remember our faces, how we talked, any of our suffering, but all of our pain will help people after us, right? It has to!" He gazed imploringly at his sisters. "But at least now we still have time!"

"Tarara boom de-ay, I sit in gloom all day," Kusanagi sang again, still pacing back and forth upstage. "Who gives a fuck?"

"I wish I knew," Subaru said, resignedly.

"Kill all the lights!" Satsuki plunged the theater into complete darkness. "I like it!" Fuuma called to the room at large, not bothering to give the end of the scene time to breathe. Satsuki brought up the house lights, knowing a rush of satisfaction at how discomposed everyone was, unable to vent their tension and unsure what to do with it. "How's everyone doing, good?" Kusanagi, Subaru, Karen and Arashi just stared at him blankly for a moment.

"Wait, is that it?" Kamui asked. It took a moment, but then everyone else began to laugh as though shaken back to themselves. Fuuma smiled and checked the time on his phone.

'Traffic' from Seishiro. Fuuma smirked.

"Take fifteen and then I wanna see it all again." His cast sighed heavily and immediately made to leave the room for coffee, cigarettes or fresh air. Fuuma stretched, smiled at Nataku, then went out to the lobby to pour himself some coffee. He took a sip, then poured a second cup and carried both up into the lighting booth. Rather than knock, he tapped one cup against the wall next to the curtain.

"Yes?" Fuuma stepped around the curtain and found Satsuki leaning over the console, rolling her right shoulder at a weird angle. She turned, and Fuuma offered her the cup. She eyed it suspiciously for a moment, then took it.

"You doing okay?" Fuuma asked.

"Shouldn't you be asking your cast that?" She blew on the coffee, then took a sip, weirdly grateful that he knew how she took it. Fuuma tilted his head to the side.

"They all have each other," he reminded her. Satsuki snorted.

"Yeah, I guess you could say that." She took another sip. "Is your plan to go through the whole play tomorrow?"

"Yeah," replied Fuuma, because he knew it would appease her rather than because he actually had any concept of tomorrow besides "a long day but Seishiro's here" or any real plans.

"Good, because I hate working like this," Satsuki told him, bluntly. "In pieces, I mean. It feels so disjointed and fucked up, I don't know where anything is."

"I know," Fuuma replied, and he meant it. "That's why tomorrow's gonna be better. Longer, but better." Satsuki sighed, and Fuuma imagined her as a little girl after a bad day at school not at all comforted by her parents' assurances that tomorrow would be okay. "Sorry," he replied.

"Good," she said again. However, she smiled at him, and they drank the rest of their coffee.

At 9:30, they finished their second stumble through of Act Four, and Fuuma decided to call it a night. He'd barely paid attention anyway, as his mind was already at home with Seishiro. "I'll see you tomorrow!" he called to Nataku. "Make sure everyone knows their call is 10, not noon!" Without waiting for a reply, he was out the door.

He texted Seishiro to let him know he was on his way before throwing himself into his car and starting the engine. He made a screeching U-turn out of the parking lot and sped back up the hill. His music blared from the speakers, and the soft notes and female vocals contrasted surprisingly nicely with his excitement and agitation. Can you hear me calling out your name? You know that I'm falling and I don't know what to say… Fuuma slowed down as he made his way through Clow, the street lights barely making a dent in the pitch darkness. I'll speak a little louder, I'll even shout, you know that I'm proud and I can't get the words out… Fuuma got stuck at the red light in front of the visitor's center and sang along with the chorus, "Oh I, I wanna be with you everywhere!" Then "Oh why, do I keep hitting red lights?"

Eventually, the light changed, and he pulled onto Route 7. His vision tunnelled in on the road before him, the trees and valley, even the moon and stars, were absorbed by the darkness and his focus. After what felt like both a long and short ride, he pulled into Seishiro's driveway with another screech and parked beside his car. There was a light on upstairs, and his focus entirely honed in on it, again obscuring everything on the edge of his vision, as he crossed the yard and stormed into the house. He sprinted up the creaky stairs and paused at the top, his eyes fixing upon Seishiro's door at the end of the hall. It was ajar, and light was seeping onto the carpet. Heart pounding, he padded down the hall, passed Setsuka's old room, knocked once on Seishiro's door, then entered.

Seishiro was laid out in bed with his laptop on his knees. He was dressed in one of his suits, though his hair was damp and smelled of shampoo. The sight alone put Fuuma into the state of mind for what was about to happen, obliterating any thoughts he might have had of embracing Seishiro or telling him about rehearsal. "Hey," he said, his lip curling. Seishiro closed his laptop and set it carefully on the bedside table while Fuuma dropped his bag unceremoniously onto the floor. He then approached the bed and stood firm, chest proud and legs hip width distance. Seishiro got up on his knees and came forward, right up close to Fuuma but not touching. He was already hard in his dress pants. "I'm glad to see you."

"I'm sure," Seishiro replied in a low voice, his eyes roving up and down Fuuma's body before fixing upon his face. Fuuma laughed softly, loving his attempt at antagonism.

"I've missed you," he said, quietly, leaning closer, teasing at a kiss. "Did you miss me?" Seishiro tried to chase the kiss, but Fuuma pulled away, smirking and leaving him gasping. "Yeah you did." Seishiro closed his eyes to avoid looking at him. However, as Fuuma finally wrapped his arms around his waist, his breath caught in his chest and his eyes flew open again. "Mmhmm." Fuuma breathed in deeply through his nose, inhaling Seishiro's cigarettes and shampoo and knowing a deep surge of arousal. He pulled him flush up against him, and felt Seishiro's palms on his chest and heard him swallow a moan. "Mmhmm," Fuuma said again, nosing against his ear. "Did you do what I asked you?" Seishiro's entire body tensed, gripped by a sudden shock of arousal, but then released, and he held tight to Fuuma's shoulders.

"Yes," he replied, softly. "You saw." Fuuma let out a long, satisfied moan, allowing Seishiro to hear how much it had affected him.

"I did," he agreed, kissing his neck and smiling against his skin. "You were so good, always stopping when I told you to." Seishiro shivered in his arms as they shared the memory. "And when you finally did come," Fuuma continued, kissing more insistently at the soft skin of his neck, darting his tongue under his starched collar. "Were you satisfied?" Seishiro swallowed, his throat moving up and down against Fuuma's lips and tongue.

"No," Seishiro whispered. Fuuma kissed him just under his jaw before moving up to his ear.

"You wanna be satisfied? Finally?" Fuuma asked, excited goosebumps erupting up and down his arms.

"Yes," Seishiro whispered. Fuuma smiled and kissed him on the cheek, knowing it was still way too early to push it despite how badly Seishiro was craving it.

"Tell me to stop at any point and I will," Fuuma reminded him.

"I know," Seishiro replied, and there was genuine appreciation under the impatience and arousal. Fuuma pulled away to look Seishiro in the face, smiling at him softly. However, Seishiro just stared back with flushed cheeks and parted lips.

A moment's silence passed.

Then Fuuma was upon him, kissing him hard on the lips and thrusting his tongue into his mouth. Seishiro exhaled gratefully into the kiss and threw his arms around Fuuma's neck, hands scrabbling at the back of his shirt as he tried to pull it off. However, Fuuma held him firmly in place and kissed him deeper, leaning forward so Seishiro arched back over his arm, opening his heart and his throat. Fuuma could feel him resisting, but didn't change the position. Instead, he just pulled out of their kiss, breathing against his lips. "I've got you." Seishiro gasped, his eyes huge as Fuuma began to kiss his neck again, harder and more insistent this time, pulling his collar out of the way to suck on his hot, flushed skin, tasting his sweat as he brought bruise after bruise into bloom. Seishiro's breathing was harsh and shallow and he dug his fingers into Fuuma's shoulders, trying unsuccessfully to right himself. Fuuma smiled and pulled away, rubbing the tip of his nose against Seishiro's and teasing at another kiss. "Lie down," he said, his voice low and commanding.

The softest cry escaped Seishiro's throat, but he swallowed it and nodded. Fuuma straightened up, making sure Seishiro was steady before letting him go. Seishiro closed his eyes for a moment, then lay down, his legs spreading apart invitingly. Fuuma's eyes immediately fixed between them, upon his erection pressing up against his dress pants, and he let out a low, longing moan and gripped his own erection through his jeans. Seishiro's lips parted in a silent gasp, and there was no mistaking the subtle upward thrust of his hips and the way his hands gripped the bed sheets on either side of him.

"Mmhmm…" Fuuma took his hand away, then pulled his shirt up and over his head and tossed it behind him. Seishiro's eyes roved up and down Fuuma's body and he couldn't help but smile in both pride and affection. He climbed back on top of Seishiro and kissed him, hot and heavy, on the lips, and for the first time it occurred to him how good this was going to feel for him too. He pulled out of their kiss to bite down on Seishiro's lower lip, sucking it playfully for a moment before moving down his body. He kissed his Adam's apple, his breastbone and belly through the crisp expensive fabric of his shirt, then finally arrived at his erection. With an appreciative groan, he rubbed the sides of his face tenderly against Seishiro's thighs, loving the way they twitched in anticipation. "You're so hard," Fuuma breathed, continuing to kiss him through the fabric. Seishiro's breath caught in his chest and he screwed up his eyes, gripping the sheets even tighter. "You did so good, saving all your pleasure for me," Fuuma continued, undoing Seishiro's pants.

"You're just selfish," Seishiro gasped, and Fuuma laughed sharply as he straightened up again.

"Nah, not selfish. Gluttonous, maybe," Fuuma conceded, carefully sliding Seishiro's pants down his thighs. "Not selfish, though." Seishiro's toes curled in his socks and Fuuma knew a deep surge of arousal as he pulled his pants down over his knees and calves, leaving his legs spread and bare and erection completely exposed. Seishiro closed his eyes and tried to look away, but Fuuma cupped the side of his face and forced his gaze down. "Watch," he said, commandingly but kindly. "Watch me make you feel good." He took hold of Seishiro's erection with his other hand and felt him throb, he was so hard. "Then call me selfish again." Seishiro bit his lip to stifle his moan, though it was more than enough to send a delicious shock of pleasure through every nerve of Fuuma's body. He moved his hand up and down, pausing to rub his palm in a circle around the tip with each upward stroke. Seishiro threw his head back in ecstasy, biting down even harder on his bottom lip in a totally pointless attempt to control his voice. Fuuma wanted so badly to push him, take him higher, but he stayed focused, pleasing him eagerly until the look on his face told him to take his hand away.

"Oh god," Seishiro groaned, his face contorted with pleasure and frustration. Fuuma was on top of him again at once, thrusting his hands up under his shirt and kissing him hard on the lips. Seishiro's entire body stiffened, then released, and he wrapped his arms and legs tight around Fuuma, who thrust his hips upwards, but then just as quickly pulled away, leaving Seishiro gasping and more flushed and desperate than ever.

"Are you gonna tell me when you're close?" Fuuma asked, quietly though directly. Seishiro swallowed.

"Yes." A shiver ran through both of them. Seishiro closed his eyes and Fuuma smiled approvingly and kissed him on the mouth again, feeling him giving by the second.

"Mmhmm," he breathed, pulling away again and reaching for the lube he'd left conspicuously on the bedside table. He hadn't intended it as any kind of gesture, he'd just fallen asleep with it out the night before. However, he didn't mention this, because the idea of Seishiro's reaction upon entering the room and seeing it was just too good. He squeezed lube onto his fingers and pressed them up between Seishiro's legs. "You're throbbing," he observed, quietly. Seishiro couldn't hide his moan, and his eyes flew open at the noise. He pressed his lips tightly together and looked away. Fuuma didn't comment, just tilted his head to the side and slid his fingers in easily. A spasm of pleasure crossed Seishiro's face, but he kept his lips together and eyes averted. "Watch," Fuuma reminded him. Seishiro shuddered and squinted between his legs as Fuuma drew his fingers out, then thrust them back inside. "Good?" he asked, spreading his fingers, stretching and exploring.

"Good," Seishiro replied, again giving by degrees. Fuuma pressed his fingers as deep as he could, then curved them upwards against Seishiro's sweet spot. Seishiro barely held back his moan and Fuuma smiled and moved his fingers in a hard circle. Seishiro's entire body seized up and his thighs began to shake, his toes curling and chest heaving.

"Good?" Fuuma asked again, knowingly, without stopping.

"Ah! I-" Seishiro clenched his jaw and shut his eyes tight.

"Does it feel good, Seishiro?" Fuuma asked, a little more firmly, though again he got no answer. Frustrated by his resolve, Fuuma spread his fingers and held them still at the perfect angle. He wanted to dissolve Seishiro's wall of reservation, melt him with his words and hands and erection. Heart pounding suddenly, he moved his fingers in and out, and knew a rush of satisfaction as Seishiro pulled in tight around them and his erection twitched visibly.

"Too much!" he cried in a constricted voice, and Fuuma took his hand away at once. Seishiro let out a shuddering gasp, then collapsed against the bed, his chest heaving in his dress shirt and jacket and toes curling in his socks. However, Fuuma's eyes were fixed upon his face, screwed up with pleasure and frustration. He covered his eyes with a shaking hand, still gasping and swallowing moans.

In the infinitesimal moment when Fuuma noticed his own pleasure, he felt every nerve in his body on fire, his erection full and pulsing and his heart pounding. However, just as quickly he refocused, his control absolute as he fell forward and took Seishiro's erection into his mouth. Seishiro cried out in surprise and Fuuma's eyes darted up to watch his face as he sucked him up and down, letting out a low, guttural moan himself. He loved pleasing Seishiro this way, loved how hard he was in his mouth and how he twitched against his tongue, but most of all he loved how good Seishiro was feeling, how he gasped and writhed and pressed the back of his hand to his mouth to muffle his cries. Fuuma sucked him base to tip, then paused to swirl his tongue around in a wet, wanting circle.

"Ah! N-no! Close!" Fuuma pulled away immediately, straightening up to watch. Again Seishiro's body was rigid down to his curled toes, except for his hands pressed to his eyes, his thighs and his lower lip, which were trembling. Fuuma was upon him at once, his weight warm and grounding and breath slow and even. "Fuck!" Seishiro cried, after a moment, his body still too stiff to embrace Fuuma.

"Does it feel good, Seishiro?" Fuuma asked, yet again, in a soft murmur, nosing against his hair.

"Fuck," Seishiro repeated, this time with much less conviction.

"Does it feel good?" Seishiro shivered and finally allowed his hands to fall away from his face. He stared up at Fuuma with bleary eyes. "Does it feel good?" Fuuma asked, his eyes boring into Seishiro's, his tone soft but demanding as he smoothed his hair off his forehead. "Answer me, Seishiro." Just the hint of consequence was enough. Seishiro took a sharp breath in, and as he sighed it out, all the tension seemed to leave his body. He melted against the bed and a flush rushed up his neck and face. However, when he did speak, it wasn't pleading or needy, just matter of fact, if a little thick and shaky.

"Yes." A wide smile spread across Fuuma's face.

"Good," he replied, kissing him on the forehead. Seishiro wrapped his shaking arms around Fuuma.

"It hurts," he said, softly, and Fuuma closed his eyes against the shudder of arousal that gripped his body. He kissed Seishiro hard on the lips, thrusting his tongue into his mouth and shoving his hands up his shirt to feel his skin, his hard nipples and smooth muscles. Seishiro moaned, finally moaned, and the noise incensed Fuuma.

"I'm gonna fuck you, Seishiro," he told him, his voice heavy with lust, and Seishiro allowed them another moan. "Mmhmm," Fuuma assured him, before climbing off of him to completely undress. Seishiro's eyes immediately fixed upon his erection, and Fuuma made rather a show of sliding on a condom and lubing himself up. As he stroked himself, he momentarily dipped into his own pleasure again, savoring how arousing the situation was, how good he felt forcing Seishiro to let go and surrender to his body. Seishiro bent his knees and planted his feet on the bed, and Fuuma sat between them. He then seized Seishiro's thighs, pulled him towards him and wrapped one arm around his waist to lift his hips. Seishiro's eyes widened as he watched Fuuma take hold of his own erection with his other hand. "Ready?" he asked, softly. Seishiro swallowed and nodded, his desperate need all over his face.

Fuuma smiled and slowly began to press inside, pausing a few times to make sure Seishiro was okay, until at last he was completely sheathed in the glorious, tight heat. He let out a hard, primal moan and leaned his head back to relish it, giving into his own pleasure for another fraction of a second. He straightened up again to look down at Seishiro, who was shaking all over, his eyes glazed and lips parted.

"Good?" Fuuma asked. Seishiro nodded, every movement seeming to cost him. "You want it?" Fuuma asked, drawing his hips back teasingly. Seishiro moaned hard through clenched teeth, but Fuuma remained still, poised to give it to him. "You want it?" he asked again, digging his fingers into Seishiro's shivering thighs. Seishiro screwed up his eyes for a moment, and when he did speak, his voice was thick and shaky, but still matter of fact.

"I want it." Fuuma took a sharp breath in through his nose and thrust deep inside on his exhale. Seishiro moaned hard and grabbed onto the bed sheets on either side of him. Fuuma smirked, the action, coupled with the friction and pressure, fueled him, made his excitement and desire all the more intoxicating.

"You can touch yourself," Fuuma breathed, fucking Seishiro faster. "You can do whatever feels good…" He fell forward, his face very close to his. "But don't come until I say so." He withdrew and thrust back inside, hard and deep, and stayed there, grinding his hips at the perfect angle; like his fingers, only so much better. Seishiro moaned and pulled in tight around Fuuma, who bit back a moan of his own as the sensation radiated out through his body. "Good?" he asked, and it took Seishiro a moment before he was able to nod. He shut his eyes tight and turned away from Fuuma as he reached between them to take hold of his erection.

Fuuma pressed his hands into the bed, lifting up so he could see the full picture, and it was glorious. Seishiro's arousal, obvious and visceral, contrasting so perfectly with the suit jacket, dress shirt and tie he was wearing. Fuuma knew another surge of power and desire; he wanted to push Seishiro further, crack him open and spill his insides.

He drew his hips back and thrust inside a few more times for good measure, then wrapped his arms around Seishiro and rolled them over so he was on top. Seishiro cried out in surprise, his entire body tensing. "Sit up," said Fuuma. Seishiro buried his face in his neck.

"Fuuma…"

"Sit up."

"I…"

"Sit up, Seishiro." Seishiro let out a shuddering moan and shook his head minutely. "Does it feel shameful, getting yourself off on my dick like that?" Seishiro's breath was shallow and ragged in Fuuma's ear. "Show me all your shame, Seishiro," he whispered.

Seishiro's erection twitched against Fuuma's belly, and after a moment he pressed his hands into his chest and lifted himself up to properly straddle his hips. He gasped softly as Fuuma's erection moved inside him, the new position allowing him even deeper. Fuuma moaned appreciatively, once again taking in the absolutely glorious picture before him. Seishiro wouldn't look him in the eye, and his face was so flushed he could practically feel the heat coming from him. "Move," Fuuma said, reaching once more for the lube and squeezing some into his palm. "Make yourself feel good." Keeping his eyes shut tight, Seishiro began to rock his hips in a deliberate and delicious rhythm. "Oh fuck yeah," Fuuma moaned, and though the heat and pressure felt incredible, he was too focused on Seishiro to really notice. He took hold of Seishiro's erection with his lubed up hand and began to stroke him forcefully. Seishiro cried out and moved his hips even faster, his face contorted with pleasure, until,

"Fuuma stop!" He obeyed at once, and though Seishiro's erection throbbed with need, he didn't come. Seishiro pressed the heel of his hand between his eyes with a frustrated cry and violent shudder. Fuuma breathed hard through his nose, his eyes fixed upon Seishiro's face, doing his utmost to not get impatient as he waited for him to recover. After what felt like hours, Seishiro took his hand away from his face and opened his eyes. Fuuma sat up at once, and Seishiro cried out at the change of position. Fuuma wrapped his arms around Seishiro, pulling him close, his dress shirt damp with sweat. Seishiro shuddered and pressed his forehead to Fuuma's, breathing hard.

"Good?" Seishiro nodded. Fuuma held him steady with one hand, then took hold of his erection with the other. He drew his hand up, but then let go and took hold of the base again.

"Are you serious?" Seishiro groaned, but Fuuma just smirked and kept going, making only upward strokes, nosing against Seishiro's chest and kissing along his breastbone. "Fuuma!"

"Close?" Seishiro swallowed and Fuuma pressed his lips to the left side of his chest, feeling his breath and his racing heart.

"No, I," he swallowed again and shook his head. "I can't, I-"

"You wanna come?" Fuuma asked. Seishiro shivered in his arms and started rocking his hips back and forth, grinding teasingly against Fuuma's erection. However, he was not to be distracted. "Do you wanna come, Seishiro?" Seishiro moaned as if in protest and Fuuma's erection throbbed inside him. He held Seishiro steady, and though it took him a moment and he kept his gaze averted,

"Yes." Arousal bubbled inside Fuuma like magma about to erupt. However,

"How bad do you want it?" Seishiro fell forward against Fuuma's shoulder and bit down hard with a frustrated groan. Quick as a flash, Fuuma seized a fistfull of Seishiro's hair and yanked him backwards, his throat stretched and exposed. He cried out and shuddered, but didn't struggle. Fuuma's lip curled as his eyes fixed predatorily upon Seishiro's Adam's apple. "How bad do you want it?"

"Fuck…"

"Seishiro."

"I…"

"How bad do you want it, Seishiro?"

"It hurts, I don't…" Fuuma pulled him forward again, his knuckles white around his sweet smelling hair.

"Tell me how bad you want it," he breathed, right in his ear. Seishiro let out the smallest of desperate moans and sagged against Fuuma, his chest heaving.

"I need to come," he whispered. "I need it, Fuuma, please…" Fuuma took a deep breath in and sighed it out, slackening his grip on Seishiro's hair.

"Me too." And with that, Fuuma flipped them over so he was back on top. Seishiro cried out in surprise, but was immediately relieved to have their positions reversed again. He wrapped his legs around his waist and dug his heels into his lower back. "Come for me, Seishiro," Fuuma told him in a powerful tone, staring him almost painfully hard in the face. "Give me all your pleasure." Fuuma pulled out and thrust back inside, over and over again, hard and fast and deep. Seishiro moaned unashamedly and took hold of his erection again, pleasing himself in quick, deliberate strokes. "Fuck yes," Fuuma groaned, watching the ecstasy twist Seishiro's features, make his thighs shake and erection stiffen. In almost no time, he cried,

"I'm gonna come!"

"Good!" Fuuma replied, halfway between a moan and a growl. His own erection throbbed almost painfully hard as he watched and felt and heard Seishiro come. His entire body seized up, gripped by pleasure, then released in an unmistakably powerful orgasm. He came all over his hand and belly and dress shirt, moaning fluently, an incoherent mess of sounds, though Fuuma heard his own name as he fucked him through it, wanting to drain him dry. However, soon it was too much for him too.

He pulled out, ripped off the condom and began to stroke himself to the perfect picture before him. Seishiro barely seemed aware of what was going on, but he managed to open his eyes blearily. "Fuck!" Fuuma cried, the heat and pressure inside him too much. With a hard, satisfied cry, he came all over Seishiro, his orgasm reverberating through his body in intense, pleasurable waves. He stroked himself until he was completely drained, then sat back on his heels, feeling a little weak and shaky but so, so satisfied.

For a long time they just sat still and silent, drained dry and awash in each other's pleasure. Eventually, though, Seishiro began to stir, blinking and swallowing and shifting against the bed. He propped himself up on his elbows and looked down between his legs. His eyes widened, and his lips parted in a trembling inhale.

Immediately, Fuuma took Seishiro protectively into his arms and rolled him onto his side. Seishiro clutched at Fuuma's back, gasping and shuddering.

"I'm disgusting," he whispered.

"It's okay, I've got you, you're fine," Fuuma said, quietly.

"I'm disgusting," Seishiro contradicted him. "Disgusting…"

Fuuma said nothing, just held him close and let him talk it out as always, feeling the emotions raw and sharp in his own body. In this state, Seishiro sometimes told stories, other times just cried, but tonight he just repeated the phrase, over and over until, eventually, he began to slow down, then stop. "You aren't disgusting, Seishiro." Seishiro started and looked up at Fuuma as though he'd only just realized he was there. "Hey," he said, softly. They stared at each other a while longer, and it was as if shades had closed behind Seishiro's eyes. He made an impatient noise, and Fuuma knew he was coming back. He kissed him on the cheek and rolled onto his back, stretching luxuriously but keeping his eyes on Seishiro as he sat up on the edge of the bed and lit a cigarette from his pack on the bedside table. He still wouldn't look down, keeping his eyes fixed straight ahead instead. Fuuma stayed quiet, giving him space, letting his mind settle, until he was nearly done with his cigarette. He quietly got up and sat beside him on the edge of the bed. "Hey," he said again.

"Hi," Seishiro replied. Fuuma took hold of his wrist and brought his cigarette to his mouth to steal a drag. Seishiro said nothing, just watched as though only mildly interested.

"You wanna shower?" Seishiro nodded. He finished his cigarette, then got undressed, leaving his messy clothes at the end of the bed. Fuuma stayed close but didn't touch as he followed him down the hall, past Setsuka's old room to the bathroom. Seishiro fumbled for the light switch, but Fuuma placed his hand on the back of his. "Let's leave the lights off," he said, softly, shutting the door behind them with his foot. Now the room was all shadows and starlight. Fuuma slid his hand up Seishiro's arm and across his upper back as he stepped around him to turn on the water. "Warm or cold?"

"I don't care." Fuuma sighed softly, waiting for the water to warm up before they stepped into the clawfoot tub. Fuuma embraced Seishiro under the water, holding him steady in the darkness. Seishiro took one last, deep breath in and sighed it out, any remaining tension, along with any clarity about what he was feeling, washed away with the water, and all of his satisfaction and self-disgust mixed together and drained away into the house's old copper pipes. For a long time, neither of them spoke, the running water the only sound, until Seishiro pulled away and leaned his head back into the shower stream. Fuuma continued to hold him steady, watching his face catch the starlight, until he straightened up and reached for the soap.

"I'll take all that stuff to the dry cleaner before rehearsal tomorrow," said Fuuma.

"Thank you." Seishiro's voice was back to normal. He handed Fuuma the soap. "Are you in a ten out of twelve tomorrow?"

"Yeah, kill me where I stand," he replied, lathering himself up. Seishiro let out a soft, contemptuous laugh.

"Should I come and see?"

"You can if you want, I'm sure they'd all be excited to meet you." Seishiro made an impatient noise as Fuuma stepped under the water to rinse off. "You plan any dinners for us to schmooze?" he asked. He could feel Seishiro's eyes all over his body even though he could barely see.

"Yes, unfortunately."

"Ah well, it can't be helped, I guess." Fuuma pulled Seishiro back into his arms and kissed him on the neck. "I'm glad you're here." Seishiro didn't reply.

They shut off the water, dried themselves and returned to the bedroom. Fuuma jumped right back into bed, and Seishiro hesitated for a moment before shutting off the light and following suit. He lay on his side, facing away from Fuuma, who immediately moved in to spoon him. He was suddenly aware of just how tired he was, but he waited until Seishiro had fallen asleep before allowing himself to drift off.

Chapter Text

Kusanagi picked a tomato, breaking the stem with a wet crunch, and brought it up to his nose. As he inhaled its warm, summery smell and the dewy morning air, he knew a flood of memories of his mother and his childhood home. His parents had always grown berries, herbs and vegetables, though his mother insisted it was impossible to get enough light in Clow. Kusanagi smiled, picked a few more tomatoes and some basil and returned to his cool, shady kitchen, panelled in dark wood that matched the blades of the whirring ceiling fan. He rinsed the tomatoes in the sink, then began to slice them. As juice oozed from the deep red fruit, he remembered his mother again, calling the pale insides of the tomatoes at the grocery store anemic. Kusanagi had repeated the word, but hadn't actually learned what it meant until he was much older and under much sadder circumstances.

He picked up a slice of tomato and bit into it. "Mm…" He liked to think he'd done his mother proud as he chopped the rest of the tomatoes and basil and threw everything into a mixing bowl. He then doused it all with olive oil, salt and pepper and spices before covering the bowl with a wet cloth to let everything marinate. Immediately he looked forward to eating the sauce over pasta during his dinner break. It was his father's recipe, though the story of where it came from originally changed every time he'd told it.

Kusanagi washed his hands and picked up his cellphone from where it was charging on the counter to ask Hokuto if she wanted more tomatoes. He didn't expect a reply; she'd probably be busy, like everyone was in the summer. It sometimes occurred to him that he could easily get by on his construction business alone, but his relationship with Babylon Theatre Company ran deeper than extra cash.

Before Kusanagi was born, Setsuka Sakurazuka and the other five founding members of Babylon Theatre Company had hired his father to restore the building that would ultimately become the Igarashi, and they'd kept up their professional relationship as the company and its reputation grew. During school vacations, Kusanagi had gone to work with his father, learning both about construction and theater, techniques for building and breathing, physical and narrative structure. He'd loved being able to help, even if it was just painting a set piece no one would really see or playing a small role on alternate nights. He hadn't believed any of the actors when they'd told him he had a good eye for design until he was in high school, shortly before his father had gotten sick.

His mother had told Setsuka the diagnosis in the off season, and she and her colleagues had immediately stepped up and provided financial and emotional support until his death, when Kusanagi was a year into college. It had been an enormous gift, so naturally Kusanagi had tried to do the same for Seishiro after Setsuka's sudden death two years later. Unfortunately, that proved challenging because he was only twenty one and had few resources, but mostly because Seishiro was Seishiro.

They hadn't ever been friends necessarily, but they'd grown up together and had hung out when Seishiro was on set during school vacations and had always respected each other. They'd recognized quickly in each other a preference to be alone, though Kusanagi was quiet and content while Seishiro was cold and withdrawn, even as a kid. After Setsuki died, it had gotten worse, and even though he took over her position on BTC's Board of Directors, for nearly fifteen years he only did his part when it was absolutely necessary.

However, something had shifted after he'd met Fuuma. My Name No One Shall Know was the first show Seishiro had actually seemed invested in, and he'd stepped up and done his part to support Fuuma and the company, and the results had been explosive. Unfortunately, Fuuma had also driven everyone crazy, walking in supremely confident and sure of his vision and incredibly demanding of everyone who was to help him achieve it. Kusanagi hadn't trusted him (he still didn't, if he were honest) because he'd immediately reminded him of the man who'd directed the production of Macbeth whose poster still hung in the Igarashi's lobby, another BTC who Setsuka had met doing The Importance of Being Earnest in their high school's drama club (they loved to tell the story at parties and fundraising events). Other board members had noticed it too, and whispered behind their hands when Seishiro had his back turned.

Seishiro and Kusanagi had both played small roles in that Macbeth, when they'd been fifteen and had nothing else to do on summer break. "Did your mom shove you on stage again?" Kusanagi had asked, sympathetically.

"No, he asked me," Seishiro had replied, evasively, referring to the director, and Kusanagi hadn't pressed the issue. However, he could still remember the grueling tech, the screaming matches the director got into with everyone but mostly with Setsuka, the on and offstage drama, but also the applause, the encores, the press coverage. Kusanagi hadn't really understood the appeal, and Seishiro didn't seem to be enjoying it either, though the rest of the cast had basked in it.

After the show had wrapped, the director went to work in London, returning periodically to see Setsuka perform, and then of course for her funeral, which was the last time Kusanagi had seen him in person.

Kusanagi often wondered when Fuuma would leave (and sometimes hoped it would be soon). It was never a question of if: it had been clear from the start that no matter how good a gig this was, how much people here liked him and his work, he'd love it and leave it like anything else. He was curious if Seishiro also knew this, though he doubted he'd ever ask him.

Kusanagi stared out of his kitchen window at the tomatoes he'd started growing from seeds back in February, when Clow had been covered in three feet of snow and empty of everyone except those who lived up here full time and BTI students doing winter intensives. He'd look to see if Yuzuriha was there, though he was secretly pleased when she wasn't: she'd do better to be out working, preferably somewhere visible and profitable. He'd liked her energy and her attitude and her smile from the moment he'd met her as a BTI student, but he hadn't let anything besides platonic affection take root. Not when she was so much younger and her career was just beginning and he was so good at staying out of BTC gossip.

With a heavy sigh, Kusanagi checked the time, then gathered his keys and wallet and headed out the door, still thinking of Seishiro and Yuzuriha.

"No, he asked me."

'Sometimes it really is that simple, isn't it?' Kusanagi thought. He himself had stepped up to play Dr. Grant after a drop out because Seishiro had asked him to. Kakyo had come up here with Hokuto when she'd asked him to, then played Lieutenant Transeau when Fuuma had asked him to. That decision had caused something of a stir around all three theaters, though no one said it to his face.

"Hokuto's new project got a role in Fuuma Monou's show!"

"When there's how many people who actually auditioned?! That's bullshit!"

"Yeah he's getting all those special voice and movement classes too. I bet he's not even good…"

Kusanagi found their envy tiresome and thought it was deeply unfair for them to call Kakyo "Hokuto's new project." Yes Kakyo wasn't the first person going through hard times she'd brought with her to Babylon to assist her, but she was actively trying to help people, why was this a bad thing and what business was it of theirs anyway? Hokuto was just one of those people, and as far as Kusanagi was concerned the world could use more of them. Setsuka had always done things like that too: outreach for young people, scholarships for arts education, donation based performances and the like. However, to hear people talk about her, it seemed her mere presence was sometimes enough. People like Karen and Kanoe would see her perform and be inspired to act or study theater themselves. Kusanagi could still remember Q&A sessions after shows, parties, or just around town, when people would tell her such. She would reply with kindness and grace, though Seishiro would glare and roll his eyes. Kusanagi didn't think either of them were doing it for show. He himself had always liked Setsuka, admired all that she'd accomplished and been grateful to her for how kind she was to his parents.

He climbed up into his truck, and as he plugged in his cellphone to play music, he noticed a text from Fuuma. Immediately annoyed, Kusanagi ignored the text and put his truck in gear. Very few people could get under Kusanagi's skin the way Fuuma did, and he was sure that'd be true even if he didn't spend so much of his professional life trying to understand him. Kusanagi had often discussed this with Satsuki, Nataku and Hokuto, those other people who spent so much time untangling Fuuma's knotted sentences and mixed messages. They'd all wondered if this had always been a problem for Fuuma, if it was part of why he was so good at hearing and seeing other people.

The drive into town was quick, leafy and breezy, and he spotted Yuzuriha, Arashi, Karen and Kakyo on their way to the Igarashi as he pulled into BTC's parking lot. He honked, and they waved. Yuzuriha gave him an extra smile over her shoulder, but then Fuuma skidded into the parking space right beside him, sending gravel and dust flying.

"You get my text?" he asked, the moment they were both out of their cars.

"Yeah but I didn't read it," Kusanagi replied. Fuuma burst out laughing. Kusanagi rolled his eyes, but then smiled. "What's up?"

"Nothing too pertinent," replied Fuuma, gesturing airily with his water bottle. As they made their way into the lobby together, Kusanagi noticed the dark shadows beneath Fuuma's slightly dazed eyes.

"You look exhausted," said Kusanagi, concernedly.

"Seishiro's finally got his ass up here," said Fuuma, rather smugly. Kusanagi nodded, his interest immediately sparked. "He'll show up today at some point, probably."

"At some point?"

"Yeah he's got shit to do, plus you know how he gets."

"I do know." Fuuma smirked.

"Yeah just don't tell anyone else though, please. I don't need them getting over excited." Kusanagi understood "them" to mean Kanoe.

"That's no problem." The lobby door opened at that moment, and Satsuki entered, a muscle relief patch on her upper back visible under her tank top.

"Morning," she said, coolly.

"What happened to your shoulder?" Kusanagi asked at once. Satsuki rolled her eyes.

"Being cramped up over a switchboard all day, obviously," she replied, with a sideways glance at Fuuma.

"I'm sorry," he said, sipping from his water bottle.

"You look like death," she replied, with a sarcastic smile.

"I've got weed in my truck," Kusanagi offered, and Satsuki's smile lost some of its edge.

"Talk to me after we're done," she said. She was supposed to meet briefly with Yuuto and Kanoe to finalize their plans for the weekend and an intoxicant would be welcome. "Are we starting from Act One today?"

"Yup," replied Fuuma, "let's get to it!" Kusanagi and Satsuki exchanged an eye roll behind Fuuma's back as he strolled into the theater, still swinging his water bottle. Kusanagi followed him inside while Satsuki went right up to the lighting booth. "Good morning!" Fuuma called, extravagantly.

"Good morning!" Keiichi called back, and though a few people waved, Fuuma could tell everyone was simultaneously wound up and tired.

"Already? We've got the whole play to get through today!"

"Your ability to run at full speed all the time is kind of astounding, honestly," said Yuuto, and Kanoe gave him a glowing smile. Up in the lighting booth, Satsuki pressed the pain relief patch into her shoulder, trying to massage more of its artificial heat into her muscles.

"Hey, someone's gotta," Fuuma replied, even as his body was begging him to sit down. "All right, let's set up for Act One, get into costume if you haven't already." The cast dispersed, some people running backstage to change, others grabbing set pieces and props.

"Here," Nataku said, appearing suddenly with coffee.

"Where did you come from?" Fuuma asked, accepting the cup.

"Thin air, obviously."

"Ha ha…"

"I was in the office starting to get previews organized-"

"Already?" Nataku just stared at Fuuma, as though in the silence he'd realize how ridiculous his surprise was. "Sorry, my brain is like, not connected to reality in any meaningful way right now, talk to me about previews after tech."

"That doesn't leave me a lot of time."

"You say that like it's my problem." Nataku rolled his eyes, and Fuuma slid his phone out of his pocket. "I don't really see how it's your problem either, let the adminisphere handle that." Fuuma smirked as he thought of Seishiro and all of the meetings he'd be stuck in and administrative bullshit he'd be sucked into while he was here. However, his smirk softened into an affectionate smile when he saw a text from him.

'have a good day' He'd left Seishiro at his kitchen counter with coffee he'd made for him and a kiss goodbye and had received the promise to stop by later in return.

'you too'

"Or get Seishiro to help you once he gets here." Nataku's eyes widened as much as they ever did and the corners of his mouth tightened, but he said nothing and went to help set up for Act One. Fuuma fell back into his usual seat, set the mug of coffee on the armrest and dug his script out of his bag. On stage, Kusanagi, Yuuto, Sorata and Kamui were carrying the dining table to its mark while Arashi, Subaru, Karen and Yuzuriha followed with chairs. "Easy, easy!" called Kusanagi. "Pick up a little more on your side, Yuuto? There we are." The set the table down, and Kusanagi almost walked into Yuzuriha just behind him. "Oh I'm sorry! Are you all right?" She grinned.

"I'm fine!"

"Here, you can hand that to me," Sorata said to Arashi, who passed him the dining chair with the smallest of smiles.

"Okay, places for the top of Act One, please!" Fuuma called, once the set was ready, before turning in his seat to address Satsuki. "Yes?"

"Yes," she snapped. Fuuma checked his phone one more time, but found no new messages.

"All right, let me see it." Everyone took their places, and Satsuki shut off all the lights. The screen glowed, and the scene began. Fuuma felt his focus close in on the stage, and as though he'd gotten new eyes since he'd last seen Act One, every tiny flaw and detail seemed magnified. He'd known this was going to happen, or he should have, which was no less frustrating. However, maybe it was left over satisfaction or exhaustion from last night, because rather than stop and nit pick, he stopped only at glaring problems, of which there were very few, and made notes of other things to fix later.

They transitioned smoothly into Act Two, and the lack of music to complete the mood was even clearer and more annoying. He watched the act with the same microscopic gaze, making notes, pausing only as Sorata and Arashi were kissing passionately on the dining table to exaggerate the lights and shadows. Karen took center stage to sing, then Satsuki killed all the lights.

"Take ten!" called Fuuma. He tried and failed to distract himself with his phone and coffee and ended up fidgeting in his seat, bouncing his knee and desperate to get back in. When they finally began Act Three, everything was okay, until they got to Kusanagi's entrance, to the lighting cue he'd agnozined over the day before. Now, with fresh eyes, the decision to keep both spotlights over the stairs on for the whole act seemed like the stupidest thing anyone had ever done in the history of theater. "Sorry, everyone, I just… Something isn't right and I'm not sure what's going on." Nataku rolled his eyes while Subaru, Yuzuriha, Yuuto and Kusanagi all exchanged looks.

"Is it the lights themselves?" Satsuki asked, already sounding exhausted.

"I don't know," replied Fuuma, doing his utmost not to snap. "Can I just see it again, please? From the top?" Kanoe sighed heavily and Fuuma bit back a retort as everyone returned to their marks. They ran the first part of the scene, and Fuuma called for the lights to be warmer and cooler, brighter and dimmer, sharper and softer, but even after almost a half hour of this he was still undecided. He actually got to his feet, his arms folded in front of his chest, brows knitted and eyes narrowed. He felt his focus like metal bands around his struggling brain, getting tighter and tighter.

"Maybe step away for a second?" Nataku suggested, quietly. Fuuma closed his eyes and took a deep breath in through his nose, willing himself not to raise his voice.

"I'll tell you when I need a break, thank you. Again! With the cooler tone! Wait, does that make it harder to see the screen?"

"No, like I pointed out, it sharpens the contrast, look," replied Satsuki, impatiently. She warmed the tone, and Fuuma made a noise of frustrated disgust.

"Yeah the other one."

"Fuuma."

"Okay if the lights stay on that's what I want. That looks better than yesterday."

"It's the same lights you had yesterday, but all right," replied Satsuki, before she could stop herself.

"Fuuma."

"No it isn't!" Fuuma argued with Satsuki, though she was probably right. "Okay, start now!"

"Fuuma."

"Yes?!" he snapped, not looking at Nataku, who replied, sardonically,

"We have a visitor."

"The fuck are you talking about?"

"Seishiro's here." The constricting bands of focus and irritation around Fuuma's brain snapped off, allowing it to fill all of the space in his skull again, receptive and gooey. He spun around to find Seishiro framed in the doorway, looking about with a kind of vague interest.

"Hold up!" called Fuuma, loudly, yanking everyone out of the stagnant numbness in the room. "Satsuki can you bring up the house lights, please?" She did so, and Fuuma sprinted to the door, ignoring the soft gasps of those people in the room who knew Seishiro. "Hi!" Fuuma exclaimed, coming to stand in front of him, the stage lights creating a strange halo around him from behind.

"Hello," he replied, and the tiniest of smiles ghosted his mouth. Fuuma smiled back, turned around and led him to the stage, catching himself before he put his hand on his lower back.

"Everyone come here a sec," Fuuma said, though it was entirely unnecessary: everyone had already gathered in a curious huddle in front of the stage. Seishiro shook hands with Kusanagi and nodded Yuuto and Kanoe, who had her eyes glued to his face; Satsuki as she hurried towards them from the lighting booth and finally Nataku, who had rushed to Fuuma's side and was now standing far closer than he would normally have done. "So for those of you who don't know," Fuuma said, loudly, smiling reassuringly at Nataku. "This is Seishiro Sakurazuka." Eight pairs of eyes widened as the name clicked into place. Karen placed her hand on her chest while Sorata, Keiichi, Kamui, Yuzuriha, Subaru and Arashi all exchanged eager looks. Seishiro inclined his head to them and Fuuma smirked. "Indeed. Head of BTC's Board of Directors and mastermind behind this show, coming to check up on us."

"Ooh, mastermind," Seishiro said, the sarcasm under the appreciation just loud enough for Fuuma to catch. Everyone else laughed.

"But is that not accurate?" Fuuma countered, raising his eyebrows. Seishiro shrugged. "Anyway, I've been stuck on this one thing for mad long, help me."

"My timing has never been better," Seishiro replied over a noise of disgust from Nataku. Fuuma grinned and addressed his cast again.

"Places for the top of Act Three. We'll run it with the lights on then off one more time."

"One more time?" Subaru and Kanoe asked together before catching each other's eye and laughing. Fuuma replied with a sweet, ingratiating smile, then threw himself into his front row seat.

"Come sit!" Nataku and Seishiro sat down on either side of him. "Let me see it!" The theater went completely dark, and Satsuki allowed a beat before the screen came on, emitting its red, smoky blackness, followed by the barely visible lights on the sides of the stage. Although Fuuma was paying attention, he kept watch on Seishiro out of the corner of his eye, eager for his reaction.

"Hm," Seishiro said, approvingly, and Fuuma's stomach turned over. The would-be emergency vehicle light swept across the stage and over the audience, and Seishiro leaned forward in his seat, his expression impassive except for his eyes, which were sharply focused straight ahead. Kanoe and Subaru entered from the stairs and, apparently reinvigorated by Seishiro's presence, gave their best performances of the day. Yuzuriha and Yuuto joined them, fueling the energy, and they took the scene until Kusanagi sat down at the edge of the stairs, the light above him coming on to illuminate him. He waited a moment, then looked expectantly at Fuuma.

"So that's one version," he told Seishiro, who nodded. "Now let's see the other one." They ran the whole thing again, this time with the lights over the stairs on the entire time. Again, Kusanagi waited a moment, then looked to Fuuma, clearly begging for a decision.

"This is what you've been agonizing over?" Seishiro asked, incredulously.

"Yes," replied Fuuma, shamelessly.

"How much time have you wasted on this? Truly?"

"I thought my commitment to quality control and standards was what you liked about my work!" Fuuma replied, outraged and avoiding the question. Seishiro blinked, and his gaze hardened.

"Yes but not to the point of wasting time on meticulous details only you notice," he replied, sneering. Fuuma was taken aback by something menacing in his tone that went beyond their usual bickering.

"I'm sorry," he replied, calmly, confused but choosing not to engage. "Should I just drop the bar I so graciously raised at Babylon back into the Mariana Trench where I found it?" They held each other's gaze for a moment's tense silence.

"Keep the lights on the whole time."

"Thanks," replied Fuuma, impatiently. "You heard that, Satsuki?!"

"Yes, thank god."

"Anyway!" Fuuma checked the time on his phone. "Let's take ten, I need to get out of this room." And with that, he returned to the lobby, Nataku at his heels. Seishiro followed a little ways behind, but Fuuma ignored him until they were all beside the bar and he'd poured himself more coffee. The bitterness and sunlight seemed to reset his brain, reminding him that he shouldn't take Seishiro's attitude personally: it was probably just from being back here and objectified by the cast and board members. 'Fucking tech's got me thinking that shit is my problem,' he thought, irritably.

"I like what I see," came Seishiro's voice from behind him. Fuuma turned and met his gaze over the rim of his mug.

"Oh yeah?"

"Yes."

"You mean that?"

"I do."

"Good." They were still staring hard at each other, but Fuuma allowed him a smile.

There was a sudden flurry of activity from the entrance to the theater as Subaru and Kamui exited together, talking playfully. However, they stopped the moment they caught sight of Fuuma, Seishiro and Nataku. "You two, come here," commanded Fuuma. Subaru and Kamui looked at each other, then approached, eyeing Seishiro rather nervously. Seishiro shifted against the bar, his shoulders pulling back and head tilting to the side. "I told you Hokuto's brother was fucking great," Fuuma said, loudly. Subaru looked completely taken aback, though very pleased, while Kamui gave him an admiring smile. Although Seishiro smiled too, he was clearly still observing as he extended his hand. Looking more surprised and pleased than ever, Subaru took it.

"I'm Subaru."

"I know. Your sister has a lot to say."

"Oh god," replied Subaru, horrified. However, the other three laughed.

"And you?" Seishiro asked, extending his hand to Kamui now. "You're our lead but I don't know you."

"I'm Kamui," he said, shaking Seishiro's hand. His eyes darted for a second to Fuuma as though hoping for praise too. "Kamui Shirou." Seishiro nodded.

"You'll see how good he is if we actually get through the rest of this act before our dinner break," Fuuma told Seishiro, and Kamui looked very pleased as he let go of his hand. "Don't let us keep you from your nicotine," Fuuma added to Subaru.

"I appreciate that," he replied with an ironic bow.

"See you in a few minutes," Fuuma said, and as they turned to go Kamui placed his hand on Subaru's lower back. "Aren't they sweet?" Fuuma muttered to Seishiro, shifting closer to him. However, before he could reply,

"You're finally here!" Kanoe rushed up to them with Yuuto in tow.

"I am," Seishiro agreed, crossing his arms in front of his chest. Fuuma was never sure what exactly it was about Kanoe that stressed Seishiro out, whether it was her general ability to discompose, her hero worship of his mother or her and Yuuto's circumstances for one reason or another.

"You have to come over for dinner," she continued, addressing both of them in a low voice as though trying to block off Nataku and other potential eavesdroppers. Seishiro's expression remained impassive as Yuuto and Fuuma exchanged a look. "The four of us and Mr. and Mrs. Aoki! It'll be really intimate and nice." Fuuma knew there was no getting out of this and decided to save Seishiro the humiliation of agreeing.

"When?" he asked, smiling. Kanoe's face glowed, and Fuuma could suddenly imagine her as the small girl who had been so transformed by Setsuka's performance, who had wanted to be just like the lead actress even though she could never quite pull it off.

"Are we working another ten out of twelve on Saturday?" she asked.

"Maybe."

"Fuuma…"

"No seriously, I'm not sure," he replied, placatingly. "It depends on how much we get done today. Let's just say Sunday instead. We have Monday off anyway."

"That's true," Kanoe agreed, nodding.

"All right, Sunday it is then," Fuuma said, shifting closer to Seishiro. Kanoe smiled and took Yuuto's hand.

"You know it's been like, fifteen minutes already, right?" Nataku interjected impatiently.

"See, this is why I need you here," Fuuma told him with a smile, before addressing the group at large. "We'll see you in there." Yuuto and Kanoe exchanged a satisfied smile and returned to the theater at once, while Nataku went outside to yell for Subaru and Kamui. Once everyone was distracted, Seishiro turned to face Fuuma. "Sorry," he said, quietly, and he meant it.

"It was going to happen," Seishiro replied, indifferently.

"Truth." Fuuma sighed and gazed at Seishiro thoughtfully. "Are you gonna stay and watch?"

"I'll have to won't I? To see your stars?" Seishiro's antagonism sharpened as his eyes followed Kamui, Subaru and Nataku's retreating backs.

"Don't be fucking rude," Fuuma replied. However, once they were alone, he nosed playfully at Seishiro's hair. "Seriously, I'm glad you're here. Stay." Seishiro gave him a grudging look and led him back into the theater. The house lights were already off, and Kusanagi was sitting on the stairs stage right while Yuzuriha, Yuuto and Subaru were downstage left, all illuminated by the lighting they'd finally decided upon. "We're finally moving on, are you guys excited?" Fuuma asked as he and Seishiro took their seats beside Nataku.

"Here's hoping!" Keiichi cried.

"Yeah yeah," Fuuma said, over his cast's laughter. "Let's take it from your monologue, Dr. Grant." Everyone fell silent at once and the collective focus locked on Kusanagi. He took a deep breath in and sighed it out, his eyes suddenly out of focus as he hunched over his knees. The action rippled out through everyone watching, and Seishiro shifted in his seat and narrowed his eyes at the stage.

"Fuck them all," Kusanagi said, his voice low and gravelly. Subaru, Yuuto and Yuzuriha all exchanged worried looks. "Last Thursday I treated a woman at the hospital… She died. And it's my fault she died." He paused. "Maybe twenty five years ago I could have been different, but now I can't remember a goddamn fucking thing."

"Hm," muttered Seishiro.

"My head is empty. My soul is empty. All I do is eat, walk and sleep." Kusanagi stopped abruptly and stared blankly over the audience. Subaru and Yuzuriha took their exit upstage left while Yuuto stayed put, watching Kusanagi warily. "Who the hell knows?" he continued, picking himself up and swaying slightly as he made his way upstage to the bed. "Day before yesterday I was hanging around with the other doctors, and everyone's name dropping Shakespeare, Voltaire… I've never read them! I've never read them but I act like I have and so did everyone else! Shabby fuckers."

"Indeed," Fuuma muttered to Seishiro, who replied with a small noise of agreement. Kusanagi sank onto the bed, his face in his hands, while Kakyo, Karen and Sorata took their marks downstage left. In the audience, Yuzuriha was staring fixedly at Kusanagi, her eyes huge and throat visibly tight.

"And then I remembered that woman who died on Thursday, and I went out and started drinking." Karen waited a moment, then, from the bottom of the stairs,

"They'll leave us alone here." She looked and sounded absolutely exhausted, and the lines continued. Like Yuzuriha, Kanoe, Subaru and Kamui, everyone was boosted by Seishiro's presence, so even though they'd started the day tired, their delivery was sharp and focused and fast. As they got closer and closer to the clock smashing, Fuuma actually turned in his seat to watch for Seishiro's reaction.

"They're already talking about organizing a concert on behalf of the victims of the fire," said Kakyo, trying bravely for a normal tone despite everyone's exhaustion and shell shock.

"Already?" Karen asked, wearily.

"I'll help," Kakyo continued, decisively, with a sideways look at Sorata, who was sitting silently on the bed now Kusanagi had meandered upstage. "Maudie plays piano, she could help too."

"And she plays so well!" interjected Yuuto, proudly, distracted for a moment from keeping track of Kusanagi.

"She hasn't played in like, three years, she's probably forgotten," said Karen, regretfully. "It might even be four."

"No one here understands music, but I do," Kakyo countered, with enough irony that Seishiro's lip curled and Fuuma's heart swelled. "Maudie plays very well, I assure you." Karen actually smiled at him.

"That's right! I love her, my Maudie," Yuuto interjected again, though no one paid him any attention.

"To be able to play so well even knowing no one around you understands you," said Kakyo, still with that little ironic zest. At last, Sorata looked up and seemed to realize there were other people in the room, while behind him Kusanagi picked up the clock on the bedside table.

"I got covered in ash and god knows what else in that fire," said Sorata, bleakly. Everyone turned to look at him, but he swallowed and said, "Yesterday I heard something about the brigade being transferred to another base. Somewhere far away."

"I heard that too," replied Kakyo, on a more serious note. "This town's gonna be desolate."

"And we'll be gone!" exclaimed Karen, loudly but hopefully. Behind them, Kusanagi let go of the clock, which smashed to pieces on the floor that caught the smokey light of the screen as they scattered. Everyone jumped, even Seishiro, and Fuuma returned his gaze gluttonously to the stage.

"Smithereens," said Kusanagi, and a moment passed in stunned silence.

"F-minus, Doctor!" Yuuto chided, though the joke was ruined by his clear worry and embarrassment.

"That clock was Mom's," Karen said, her exhaustion coming across way ahead of her sadness. Kusanagi stepped awkwardly around them, steadying himself against the wardrobe as he made his way downstage to stand under the spotlight above the stairs stage right, casting a bleary look at Sorata, who was now watching Karen, Yuuto and Kakyo clear up the clock with pained detachment.

"It could be," Kusanagi said, turning to the audience and adopting a sarcastic parody of the tone he used while philosophizing in previous scenes. "If it's Mom's, it's Mom's. Could be I didn't actually break it, it just seems like it. Maybe it only seems like we exist." He reverted to matter-of-fact drunkenness. "Maybe someone's made all this shit up. I don't know anything. No one knows shit." He switched to an obnoxious sing song voice. "Natalie's fucking Nathan and you all act like you don't see it!" Karen, Kakyo and Yuuto ignored him, still preoccupied with the clock. "Really? You really don't see it?" When he received no answer, Kusanagi heaved a heavy sigh and trudged down the stairs, singing softly to himself. "I know your wife, and she wouldn't mind…" He slouched back into the audience and sank into the seat beside Kanoe, looking suddenly exhausted. Both Seishiro and Yuzuriha were staring at him.

"Yeah," Sorata said, as though suddenly jolted to alertness. "God this is fucking bizarre. When the fire broke out, I rushed home, and when I got there my little girls were outside in nothing but their pajamas, their mother was missing, our neighbor's horses were running, alarms were going off, and I saw their faces and-" His voice broke and he pressed his fingers to his mouth. "I don't know," he said, and his eyes filled with tears. "All I could think of was oh my god what else will they go through, they have so much time ahead of them!" He stopped again and cleared his throat. When he next spoke, his tone was utterly disgusted. "Then I find their mother throwing a fucking tantrum."

"Hm," muttered Seishiro. Sorata buried his face in his hands as Arashi slowly entered from the stairs stage left, staring hard at Sorata and completely ignoring Yuuto trying to catch her eye.

"When," Sorata began again, after a moment, dropping his hands into his lap and speaking to them rather than anyone on stage. "When my little girls were standing on the doorstep in nothing but their pajamas, barefoot, and the air was smokey and the sky was red and it was so loud, I remembered missions, invasions, infiltrations." He shuddered, and the deadened exhaustion in his eyes became suddenly more pronounced. "It's completely different, obviously, from back then, but in two hundred, three hundred years, people will look back on all of this and be horrified and disgusted, everything we think is normal now will be awkward and fucked up and strange." He looked out over the audience, the utter horror in his voice contrasting creepily with his glazed eyes.

"Hm," muttered Seishiro again.

"Fuck, life is so weird!" Sorata exclaimed, reverting jarringly back to an almost normal tone and manner. Karen, Yuuto and Kakyo all jumped and exchanged looks, and Sorata finally seemed to register that there were other people in the room. "Sorry, I didn't mean to start spinning out like that," he said with rather an awkward laugh. He spotted Arashi across the stage and managed to smile at her, but as she came to sit beside him he cast a guilty look at Yuuto out of the corner of his eye. "Imagine though," he persisted, trying for a galvanizing tone that just made him sound uncomfortable. "Now there's only three people like you, but later on there will be more, and then everything will change to be like your way, and that'll become obsolete. People will evolve to be even more superior to you!" He paused, and everyone, including Arashi, stared at him with rapt attention. "This is so weird, all I can think right now is how much I want to live." Arashi smiled a tight smile that didn't match the tenderness in her eyes. "Come on baby, let's ride," he sang softly to her. "We can escape to the great sunshine…"

"I know your wife," Arashi sang back.

"And she wouldn't mind…"

In the lighting booth, the pain in Satsuki's shoulder throbbed and she pressed against the muscle relief patch, willing it to work better than it was. She thought longingly of the weed Kusanagi had promised her, how while high her shoulder didn't hurt and she wouldn't hate the conversation she, Yuuto and Kanoe were to have after rehearsal. 'I know your wife and she wouldn't mind indeed,' thought Satsuki, spitefully. As she watched the scene continue, she wondered for nowhere near the first time what would happen if she told Kanoe about her and Yuuto. Well no, she didn't wonder, because she knew immediately both possible outcomes and had from the start: Kanoe wouldn't believe her but would keep Yuuto away from her anyway or their relationship would deteriorate and it would be all her fault. Either way, she'd never get to fuck Yuuto again.

"Satsuki, can you saturate the lights over the bed just a touch?" Fuuma called, and Satsuki did so, further illuminating Yuuto fussing over Arashi despite her clearly wanting nothing to do with him.

"That's perfect! Okay keep going." The lines and lights continued until it was just Arashi, Subaru and Karen on stage. Just like yesterday, Fuuma was impressed by Arashi, and muttered to Seishiro, "Maudie had a hard time in the beginning, but she's doing fucking great now, right?"

"I see," replied Seishiro.

"You think I was joking? Fuck outta here," Arashi countered. Subaru just shook his head and put his arm around Karen. Arashi hesitated a moment, then, "I need to tell you guys something, and I'm only going to say it once so pay attention." Subaru let go of Karen and the two of them turned to face her, looking rather like disapproving school teachers. Arashi sat up straight and stared at her siblings with eyes full of meaning. "I'm, I'm in love with Colonel Young." Subaru did an about face and strode across the stage to exit, muttering,

"Oh fuck me…"

"It's not my fault!" Arashi cried, outraged, springing to her feet and pulling Subaru back by the arm. "At first I just felt sorry for him, but now I'm in love!" Her voice broke as, unconsciously it seemed, her eyes darted to Sorata in the audience.

"Focus," Fuuma said, warningly. Kamui shoved Sorata playfully, then got up to take his cue.

"Another ten years off my life, I swear to god," said Subaru wearily, wrenching his arm out of Arashi's grip.

"You're such a prick, you know that?" Arashi snapped. "I love him, and he loves me and it's fucking terrible." Subaru tried to catch Karen's eye, to exchange an exasperated look, but she just embraced her sister. Arashi stiffened, but then shuddered and sagged against Karen, her hands scrabbling at the back of her dress. "What happened?!" she demanded, her furious horror loud and clear though her face was buried in Karen's neck. "When you read about love in novels or see it on TV it seems so simple, but then you actually fall in love and realize no one knows anything about relationships at all and we're all just making shit up as we go along!" Her voice suddenly broke and she pushed Karen away, her eyes huge as if she'd only just realized what she was saying. "Fuck," she said, softly. Her tone had shifted completely, going from the horror Fuuma always told her to play up to something almost relieved, or empowered, or excited, and Karen and Subaru both shivered. Again, Arashi's eyes darted to Sorata, who smiled at her from the audience.

"What was that?" Nataku muttered as Subaru and Karen ushered Arashi back onto the bed.

"Shh," Fuuma said, smirking.

"Jackson?!" demanded Kamui, striding up the stairs downstage right. His siblings all jumped, then fixed him with a venomous look. "There you are! I need the keys to the bookcase, I can't find mine!" No one said anything, and Kamui realized embarrassedly how bad his timing was. However, Subaru extracted his keys from his back pocket and handed them over, his expression still openly hostile. "That fire was fucking crazy, right?" Kamui asked in a purposefully jockular tone that did nothing to lighten the mood. Seishiro made a disgusted noise in his throat, echoing the expressions on Subaru, Arashi and Karen's faces.

"Right?" muttered Fuuma, still smirking, and the scene continued. Fuuma watched for Seishiro's reaction. Seishiro crossed his arms and tilted his head to the side, looking almost suspicious of Kamui's performance, but his eyebrows raised in what Fuuma took to be surprised excitement as the whole cast walked around the stage like a chaotic whirlpool, out of which Karen and Subaru eventually emerged.

"Jackson?" Karen asked, sitting beside Subaru on the bed. "Did you hear? The brigade is leaving. They're going somewhere far away." Subaru turned to look at her.

"That's just a rumor."

"We'll be all alone here, Jackson!" she cried, trying and failing to laugh.

"Yeah," Subaru replied, with a smile that made him look like he had lockjaw. A moment's silence passed, then,

"Transeau's a good guy, right?" Karen cried, taking hold of Subaru's upper arm and squeezing it. "I'll tell him, we'll get together! But please, promise me we'll go back to New York!" Subaru hugged Karen and the theater went completely black. Immediately Fuuma looked to Seishiro, and through the sudden darkness, saw him nod.

"Take that transition and we'll start from the top of Act Four after break!" Fuuma called, and immediately everyone got to work. "So?" Fuuma asked Seishiro under the cover of the noise and sudden brightness as Satsuki turned on the house lights. "Better than last year, right?" Seishiro rolled his eyes, but nodded again, watching Subaru, Yuuto, Keiichi and Sorata pick up the bed and carry it backstage.

"I like it," Seishiro said, simply. "You're ridiculous about tech." Fuuma felt Seishiro had some nerve calling him ridiculous about anything, but knew better than to say so.

"I have to be, especially if it's my last show here." Seishiro's eyes narrowed. "I just hope I can get everything done before that fucking party on Sunday." Seishiro replied with a disgusted noise. "I'll be there, you won't have to do anything," Fuuma reminded him.

"You cast this show well," Seishiro said, fairly, ignoring the last comment.

"Yeah all my plans come to fruition in the end," Fuuma snorted.

"I thought you never plan anything."

"That's also part of my plan!" He waggled his eyebrows at Seishiro, and though he looked annoyed for a moment, he actually allowed him a laugh.

"Shut your mouth."

"I'll remember you said that later."

"Can we get the fuck out of here now, please?" Satsuki asked. Everyone laughed, even Fuuma.

"Yeah sure, rest and recover so we can come back for more torture in two hours."

"Ooh it hurts so good!" Keiichi interjected in a high pitched moan. Everyone dissolved into fits of hysterical laughter, except Seishiro and Nataku, who exchanged an exasperated look behind Fuuma's back.

"Listen, what you get up to on your own time is not my fucking problem," Fuuma said, grinning. "All right, I'll see you all later." The cast broke into chatter and immediately hurried backstage to get out of costume. "Let's go, I don't feel like talking to anyone," Fuuma muttered to Seishiro, who nodded gratefully and got to his feet. "Take care of closing up for me?" he added to Nataku, who nodded, though he could practically feel his resentful glare on the back of his neck as he left the theater with Seishiro. However, he didn't care at that moment, not when he could finally interrogate Seishiro about what he thought of the show.

In the dressing room, Arashi was changing out of her costume so quickly and inattentively it wasn't until Yuzuriha offered to help her that she realized half her shirt buttons were in the wrong holes. "Oh," she replied, distractedly, shaking her head and fixing them. "Thank you."

"Are you all right?" Karen asked. "Today's been long already, I know."

"Yes," Arashi agreed, both because she could tell Karen wasn't being condescending and because she had no intention of sharing what was on her mind.

"Act Three is exhausting!" Kanoe said, dramatically, throwing her purse over her shoulder. "I'm going to go home and pass out."

"That sounds amazing right now," Yuzuriha agreed. She and Karen fell into an easy conversation and Arashi just nodded distractedly, desperate to get out of the room but not wanting to arouse suspicion.

Eventually, the four of them left the dressing room together, and in the lobby ran into Sorata, Yuuto and Kusanagi chatting by the bar. The three of them turned and smiled, and Arashi waited until Yuuto and Kanoe were sufficiently distracted by each other before, "Sorata?"

"What's up?" he asked. Kusanagi and Yuzuriha caught each other's eye behind both of their backs.

"Nothing," Arashi said, her eyes wide. "I just, I hope this isn't weird to say, but-"

"You realized something and wanna run it by me?" he asked, kindly, a sudden warmth in his chest. Arashi raised her eyebrows, but she nodded, blushing. "Not weird at all," he assured her. "I love when shit clunks into place on stage. You wanna go grab food in town or something?"

"No no, we can just go back to the dorm, that's okay," she replied, realizing a split second too late the implication and choosing to ignore it.

"Okay, cool," Sorata replied, carefully keeping his tone casual.

"Yuzuriha, you aren't hungry, are you?" asked Kusanagi, suddenly inspired to save her from being third wheeled.

"What? Oh, yeah I could definitely eat!" she cried, latching into the words before she could even think about what they meant.

"I made way too much tomato sauce this morning, you're more than welcome to share," he continued, and as the prospect of sharing a meal one on one with Kusanagi hit her, she experienced almost a head rush.

"That sounds great," she replied, praying she wasn't giving herself away and hating how high pitched her voice sounded.

"Let's go," he said, smiling, and Yuzuriha felt as if she were floating as they left the theater together.

"I want fresh tomato sauce, what the fuck," Sorata said, indignantly. Arashi let out the softest of giggles that made the warmth in Sorata's chest spread outwards. "Anyway, let's go."

They walked back to their dorm side by side in silence, the campus warm and sunny and smelling of fresh cut grass. In the distance, a class from BTI was out working, their shouts and cries carried over on the soft summer breeze.

"I'll make coffee," said Arashi as they entered their kitchen. "Do you want some?"

"Sure!" Sorata had no clue what Arashi wanted to talk about, so he stayed quiet as she fussed with the old and battered coffee maker, trying not to watch her long hair sway about her waist, her back arch gracefully and her ass and thighs in her pants.

"How far away is your house?" Yuzuriha asked, her nose pressed up against the passenger window of Kusanagi's truck and stomach twisting in nervous excitement. She still wasn't sure of his intentions, or if she cared. It was their first time hanging out just the two of them and outside of work, she wasn't going to complain.

"Haven't you come over before?" Kusanagi asked, surprised. "I hosted all the cast parties last year."

"No," Yuzuriha replied, regretfully. "I was too busy with all my BTI stuff."

"Ahh right, that timing would have been off." They drove up into the winding, wooded hills, and Yuzuriha bit her lip as Kusanai's bungalow came into view.

"Your house is beautiful!" she exclaimed.

"Thank you," he replied, and even though he'd heard it countless times before, he felt rather touched when it came from her. They parked and headed inside, smelling flowers and warm grass. As the screen door clattered shut behind her, Yuzuriha beamed around at the interior, her heart swelling in her chest. It reminded her of her grandmother's apartment back in New York, all the plush surfaces and dark woods, but it was so clearly Kusanagi, and she loved it.

"You can leave your stuff anywhere," he said, and she deposited her bag on the old, faded couch.

"You didn't build this house, did you?" she asked, joining him in the kitchen where he was putting a pot of water on to boil.

"Oh no," he replied, though he did appreciate the question. "I just renovated it." Yuzuriha grinned and leaned against the counter, her sweaty palms behind her. Kusanagi added salt to the water and tossed some over his left shoulder before pulling the bowl of tomatoes he'd left covered there that morning towards him. "Here," he said, peeling back the cloth. A pungent smell of tomatoes and basil filled the room.

"Oh my god that smells amazing!"

"Try some," Kusanagi said, retrieving a fork from a drawer. He hesitated a moment, then stuck it into the bowl, speared a piece of tomato and held it out to her. Yuzuriha's breath caught in her chest and her eyes darted back and forth between the fork and Kusanagi's face. Something shifted in his expression, but he kept the fork where it was, letting her decide what to do. He'd meant all of this completely innocently, but his heart began to beat faster anyway. Yuzuriha placed her hand on the back of his, drew it closer and swallowed the forkful.

"Mm!" she exclaimed, her eyes widening as she let go. "That's amazing!" Kusanagi laughed and took a forkful for himself, ignoring her blush.

"Thank you kindly. I grew the tomatoes out back."

"No way!"

"Yes way!" Kusanagi nodded out the window towards his garden. "Hokuto usually steals most of them, but my plants have been bearing really well this year."

"That's so cool!" Yuzuriha said earnestly, and warmth flooded Kusanagi's chest. "I'm terrible at growing things." Kusanagi tried to dissuade her, but she just stared back at him incredulously. "No seriously, plants get suicidal around me!"

"Ha! You sure it's not just you being in New York?"

"No way! People grow shit on their fire escapes and stuff," she scoffed. "But seriously, is that what tomatoes are supposed to taste like?! My mind is blown!" Again, Kusanagi laughted and Yuzuriha's heart swelled in her chest. It was better than she could have hoped for, being in Kusanagi's home, eating his food and making him laugh.

Behind them, the water on the stove began to boil.

"So what's up?" Sorata asked, blowing on his coffee and taking a sip. He and Arashi were out on their dorm's porch, sitting around the old wicker table. They could hear birds singing, insects humming and woodchucks scurrying about under the house. Arashi curled her legs up under her and held her mug in both hands.

"That line about no one knowing anything about relationships," Arashi began, without preamble. "When you read about love in novels or see it on TV it seems so simple, but then you actually fall in love and realize no one knows anything about relationships at all and we're all just making shit up as we go along." Sorata nodded. Arashi swallowed. "That's, that's true, isn't it?" she asked, almost cautiously. It was strange to be this forthcoming, but for some reason it was exciting rather than nerve wracking.

"What, that no one knows shit?" Sorata asked, completely seriously.

"Well…?" Sorata took a sip of coffee.

"I mean, I don't disagree," he said, remembering his and Fuuma's conversation a million years ago. "But I'm also not the best person to ask." Arashi sipped coffee and gazed at him over the rim of her cup, her wide eyes catching the light beautifully. "I grew up with my grandfather and I've never seen my parents together, they split up when I was really little, shit was fucked up."

"Oh," replied Arashi, her eyes softening concernedly.

"Nah don't worry about it, it was for the best, trust me," he assured her, and though he didn't usually like sympathy, he appreciated it from her. "But yeah, I had no example growing up except for movies and books and stuff, then my friends and all their," he paused and waved his hand around as though batting away midges. Arashi giggled against her cup. "Yeah so 'no one knows shit' makes sense to me, if that helps?"

"It does, I think," she replied with another giggle, and as she sipped more coffee she realized it was true. Maybe she hadn't been doing things wrong for years, maybe all the things she'd been criticized for her whole life weren't actually that bad? Dare she hope? "What we see in media's also so limited," she continued, bravely.

"Yeah for sure," Sorata said, eagerly, picking up the new thread at once. "And if you don't identify with them or they just don't make sense it's really painful." Arashi nodded vigorously. "In retrospect it seems mad obvious," he pressed on. "If you don't identify with the same story you're shown day in and day out, it might not actually be your fault, but," he broke off, shrugging.

"I wish I'd heard that in high school," Arashi said, a sudden bitterness in her voice. "That wasn't really what I meant, though."

"No?"

"No." Arashi took another sip of coffee. "It actually… I felt better for saying all of that."

"How so?" Sorata asked, leaning closer. She blushed again as she looked into his eager face, his eyes wide and clear in the soft evening light. She knew the look, she'd seen it whenever they'd been on stage together.

"Well," she began, doing her utmost to stay focused. "Just that, when you realize that everyone else is just as clueless as you are. It just made me feel less… I'm not sure, less-"

"Fucked up?" Sorata offered. Arashi burst into laughter, and Sorata joined in, a sudden heat rushing up between them.

"Does that make sense?" she asked, hesitantly, through her giggles.

"Yeah!" Sorata replied, totally unabashed. He understood completely, or at least as completely as he was able, where she was coming from. He was also thrilled to see her this forthcoming and comfortable.

"I've never," Arashi started to say, but then stopped abruptly. She shifted in her seat and drank more coffee. Sorata's breath caught in his chest, but he said nothing. "I don't really have an example either," she said instead, changing tact. "I grew up with my aunt, and she was never married. Then I went to this really old fashioned private school." She looked at Sorata curiously to see how he'd take this, whether he'd be put off or intrigued or want to fix her. However, all he said as,

"So you get it."

"I suppose so," she replied, appreciatively. "I had a hard time understanding where Maudie was coming from, getting married so young and then actually falling in love with someone, but… It seems like I keep finding more things we have in common."

"Makes sense to me," Sorata said with yet another encouraging smile. "I could feel it." Arashi's blush deepened, but she held his gaze determinedly.

"Was it helpful?" she asked, quietly. She had a fleeting memory of kissing him without being given the direction, of the chemistry and intensity that had followed. She felt so connected to him on stage, even though he never instigated anything. He'd just let her be.

Sorata could feel something shifting, and he was aware of his stomach twisting in a confused mix of feelings he wasn't sure were his own or Arashi's. "Very much so," he replied, just as quietly. Arashi let out a soft cry, relief and excitement and all other unnamable things suddenly rushing out through her body as though bursting a dam in her chest.

"It also makes me less, I don't know." She didn't want to say freaked out, even though that was the best way she knew to describe it. She stared Sorata hard in the face, hoping he'd supply the word. However, he wasn't sure what she was getting at and didn't want to be presumptuous. He finished his coffee and set the mug down on the old wicker table, then offered a few options.

"Confused?" Arashi swallowed. "Worried?" Arashi's blush deepened still further and she nodded.

"About this."

"About… You mean the show?"

"No! Well, I suppose in part, but I meant," she gestured back and forth, stirring the space between them.

"How do you mean?" Sorata asked. Arashi felt her stomach disappear and goosebumps rose up and down her arms despite the warm day. However, she held Sorata's gaze steady.

"Just that, if no one knows anything anyway, then, is it so wrong?" she asked, in just above a whisper.

"I dunno," Sorata replied, his voice also lowering. He wished more than anything that he had a better answer for her, but he was still unsure of her implication and, in any case, he was suddenly way too distracted by her eyes, by the pale skin of her chest visible through the few undone buttons of her shirt, by doing his utmost not to look down.

"Sorata," she said, quietly, and he shivered as she said his name. "I…"

"It's all right," he said, his entire being focused on Arashi. "Whatever's going on, or you're feeling, or…" Arashi bit back the softest of longing moans, but his words and his smile were finally enough. She took his hand, and before he could stop and think, he kissed her knuckles, so much smaller and smoother than his own. Arashi's belly pulled in and up and she bit back another moan. Sorata got to his feet, still holding tight to her hand, and she followed, moving in closer, heat and nerves and excitement rushing up between them.

"I… Is this okay?" she whispered. It was like on stage, but so many times more intense. Her body was hot all over in anticipation, but instead of Maudie's feverish energy it was her own, softer and quieter desperation.

"Mmhmm," Sorata breathed, warmth flooding his chest and belly. He was already getting hard. He leaned in closer, inviting but still just out of reach.

"Mm," she echoed, before finally kissing him on the lips. It only lasted a second, but a shiver ran through both of them and the space between them throbbed as they broke apart. Arashi's chest heaved and heat rushed between her legs as she squeezed Sorata's hand almost painfully tight. "It's okay, right?" she breathed.

"Yeah," he whispered. He felt dizzy with desire for her, but he had to keep himself in check, let her come to him, not just kiss her with all the passion coming to a boil inside him. "It's okay." Arashi moaned softly and kissed him hard on the lips again, letting go of his hand to wrap both arms around his neck. Sorata groaned into the kiss, holding tight to her waist with one hand and entwining the other in her hair.

Arashi melted against him, every sensation electric. She half expected him to pick her up as usual before it occurred to her they weren't on stage, they were themselves, and she would experience Sorata, and he'd be with her, Arashi. It was both intoxicating and terrifying.

"Is this okay?" Sorata asked, dragging his hand down her back to grip her ass, and Arashi arched into the touch.

"Yes…" Sorata gasped and gave her another sound kiss on the lips, breathing hard through his nose and relishing the feel of her for a few more glorious seconds. He pulled out of their kiss and rested his forehead gently against hers.

"No pressure, but," he swallowed. "You wanna go upstairs?" The words seized Arashi's body in a vice grip, fogging her brain and searing her nerves. She closed her eyes and leaned her head back, then, when she was able to think more clearly,

"Yes…" Sorata nodded and kissed her on the forehead before pulling away reluctantly. Arashi's eyes darted immediately to his erection, pressing out against his slim fitting jeans at a weird angle. She swallowed, a need deeper than any of her lust or confused feelings rising up from inside her. She bit her lip, took his hand and led him back inside. Downstairs was still empty, but they both blushed and looked away from each other as they snuck upstairs, the creaking of the old wood simultaneously exciting and terrifying. At the top of the stairs, Arashi paused, but,

"Let's go to my room," Sorata said, quietly, climbing the last few stairs to stand behind her. With his free hand, he brushed her hair away from the back of her neck and kissed the soft, smooth skin there. The kiss radiated out through Arashi's body in a deeply pleasurable wave, squeezing her chest, her belly, her inner walls. Sorata breathed in deeply, smelling her hair and doing his utmost not to bite down on her neck, ear or shoulder before she squeezed his hand and pulled him into his bedroom. It was warm and bright, and his unmade bed was covered in pillows and soft blankets. The door fell shut, and Arashi whirled around to face Sorata again. He smiled a hesitant smile, though his eyes blazed with desire as they caught the light filtering in through the windows.

"You wanna lie down?" he asked, after a moment. Arashi blushed, but did so, brushing her hair out of her eyes.

Sorata surveyed her for a moment, laid out before him, legs spreading slowly, chest rising and falling, shimmering dark hair and pale skin. He took a deep breath in and sighed it out, venting some of his need before slowly coming to lie down on top of her. Arashi gasped softly, his warm weight simultaneously comforting and arousing. "This okay?" Sorata asked, and Arashi took hold of the sides of his face before coaxing him into a deep kiss. He gently pressed his tongue into her mouth, and she melted into the bed, wrapping her arms around his neck and squeezing his hips with her thighs.

Sorata groaned low in his throat and kissed her deeper still. The pressure around his waist and between his legs was deliciously teasing and he loved it. He began to grind his hips up against her, relishing the heat building in the quiet sensuality. He moved his kisses to her neck, breathing deeply against her skin and hair.

Arashi swallowed a soft cry, shut her eyes tight and held onto him tighter. She had expected him to be like on stage: intense and passionate and hard, and whether he was nervous or holding back or actually like this or what, it didn't matter, because the gentle kisses on her neck and thrusting of his hips made her inner walls throb with longing. Gathering her courage, she wrapped one leg around his waist, pulling him even closer.

"Oh fuck," Sorata moaned softly in her ear, and they shared a delicious shiver of arousal. His need gave her such a rush, and she leaned her head to the side, giving him more of her neck to explore. "Oh fuck," he breathed again, disentangling his hand from her hair to drag it up her thigh, her waist, to finally cup her breast through her shirt.

"Oh," Arashi moaned, softly, arching up into the warmth and the pressure.

"Good?"

"Mmhmm…" Sorata nodded, squeezing her ever so gently before beginning to undo the buttons on her shirt. His hand shook slightly and he kissed her neck more insistently, licking and sucking but nowhere near hard enough to leave marks. Once he had all the buttons undone he pulled away, wanting to see, but was immediately distracted by her face, by her flush, her parted lips, her needy, lustful expression and her hair pooling softly around her. An intense wave of arousal rose up inside Sorata and crashed outwards through his body, searing his nerves and making his erection throb. "What?" Arashi asked, rather breathlessly.

"You're beautiful," Sorata replied, simply, managing a smile when he'd recovered himself. Arashi flushed deeper and her chest constricted, suddenly and painfully, around her throbbing heart. She'd heard it plenty of times before, in this context and in others, and though she knew it to be true in some unbiased part of her brain, when Sorata said it, and with that look on his face…

"Do you," she started to say, though she had no idea where she was going with the question. She swallowed. "Do you feel good?" She asked, lamely, the tightness in her chest moving up to her throat. Sorata nodded vigorously.

"I feel amazing," he assured her. "Do you?" Arashi flushed more deeply still as her inner walls throbbed and her belly pulled in and up in answer.

"Yes," she replied, breathlessly.

"You okay to keep going?" Sorata asked, his expression close to desperate. Arashi shivered, wondering exactly what he meant but wanting more too badly to care.

"Yes." Sorata exhaled gratefully and was back to kissing her neck, dragging his hands up her belly and pressing them up under her bra. Arashi moaned and arched up into the touch, into the kiss. His hands were warm and soft against her nipples, now gloriously hard in her arousal, making her stomach twist and her inner walls spasm pleadingly. Sorata felt dizzy, so caught up in the feel of her, wanting more than anything to undress her and explore her fully with his hands, lips and tongue. He thrust his hips softly up against her, looking desperately for more stimulation as he cupped her breasts with both hands and rubbed his thumbs in teasing circles against her nipples. Arashi gave a soft cry and Sorata pulled away to kiss her hard on the mouth again. Arashi moaned gratefully and seized the sides of his face to pull him closer, thrusting her hips up against him and groaning low in her throat as she found the best angle.

"Oh fuck," Sorata gasped, between kisses, grinding back against her, pleasure radiating out through his body, twisting his stomach and squeezing his heart. "That's-" He shuddered, but managed to look her in the face. "You feel so good," he told her in a constricted voice, his whole body shivering. Arashi gasped, feeling the shiver in her own body, radiating out from his hands still holding her breasts so reverently.

"Really?" she asked, before she could stop herself. Sorata's heart squeezed and his gaze softened as he nodded. He leaned in closer, withdrawing his hands from under her bra to wrap around her. Arashi shivered, both at the sensation and the sudden tenderness. Suddenly she wanted to explore him too, touch him all over, keep going.

She wrapped her arms tight around him and cautiously pressed her hands up the back of his shirt. Sorata closed his eyes in a soft gasp as the touch rushed out through his body like an electric charge. Arashi's eyes widened, but then Sorata kissed her hard on the mouth and rolled them over onto their sides so they faced each other, tangled up in their arms and legs. He tenderly held the sides of her face and rested his forehead against hers.

"I could kiss you forever," he groaned, truthfully, heat creeping up his neck and flooding his face. Arashi's breath caught in her chest.

"I, likewise," she said, eventually, also blushing. Sorata smiled. "But, um," she allowed her gaze to travel down his body to fix longingly upon his erection. Sorata followed and his blush deepened.

"Yeah, I," he began, almost apologetically, but then Arashi pressed her hand between his legs and anything he might have said dissolved in a needy, strangled cry.

"Is that all right?" she asked at once, knowing more of that deep, visceral excitement at how hard he was.

"Yeah," Sorata replied, breathlessly. However, before she could really begin exploring, Sorata reached forward and carefully teased the button of her pants with his first two fingers. "Can I-"

"Yes!" Arashi cried at once, her entire body begging for it. She squeezed Sorata's erection through his jeans and he moaned and kissed her deeply again. Arashi groaned softly too, feeling so alive with anticipation as she kissed him back, as he slowly and carefully began to undo her pants and slip his hand inside.

"Oh god," Sorata moaned, a sudden spasm of arousal gripping and releasing his body as he felt how hot and wet she was. Arashi closed her eyes and threw her head back in a soft, needy cry, her face glowing at the intimate touch. "Oh god," Sorata said again, kissing her soulfully as he rubbed his fingers against her, teasing and exploring, spreading her apart but not pressing inside yet. Arashi's stomach pulled in and up and her clit pulsed, begging to be touched. Her thighs shook slightly as she rubbed him through his pants, but then, "Don't worry about me," Sorata told her, pulling out of their kiss to rub his nose tenderly against hers.

"W-what?" she asked, dazedly, still distracted by his fingers. Sorata smiled, his heart and erection both throbbing.

"Don't worry about me," he said again, looking her very seriously in the face. "Just let me take care of you." Arashi shivered. In some mistrustful part of her brain, it might have occurred to her to doubt his words, but as she looked into his face, his lips parted and eyes shining with sincerity, she couldn't even begin to muster the energy to contradict him. Instead, she just asked,

"How?" and blushed furiously. Sorata took a deep breath in and sighed it out, debating for a moment even though he'd known from the start at least one thing he wanted.

"Can I use my mouth?" he asked, in just above a whisper. Arashi's inner walls throbbed almost painfully as her entire body shuddered in arousal.

"Are you sure?" she asked, when she found her voice. In answer Sorata just moaned and kissed her soundly, moving his fingers a little faster, loving the way she pulsed against them.

"I wanna please you so bad," he breathed, between kisses. Arashi's mind was spinning, and though that small, suspicious part of her brain was still trying to interject,

"You can," she whispered, blushing.

"You sure?" he asked, his voice heavy with need. She nodded, rocking her hips gently against his fingers. Sorata groaned gratefully and kissed her again, carefully taking his fingers away. She moaned, missing the touch already, but then immediately brought her hands to the waistband of her pants and slid them down. Her underwear was plain, not that it mattered because she didn't own anything fancier, but before she could think too much about that, Sorata pulled her pants the rest of the way off and placed them carefully on the bed beside her. His eyes widened as she shifted her hips and allowed her legs to fall open. She shivered, both from the cool air on her hot, wet skin and Sorata's expression, as though he'd never seen anything more enthralling in his life.

Sorata felt a powerful swell of emotion and desire rise up in his belly and chest, then crash out through his body. His eyes fixed between her legs and he licked his lips subconsciously, his heart and erection both aching. "You're beautiful," he told her softly, and though he was thinking longingly of her completely naked, of them gloriously wrapped up in each other, he stayed focused, leaning forward to kiss her slowly and reverently on the lips instead. Arashi moaned hard into the kiss, fueling their arousal. "Ready?" Sorata breathed against her lips.

"Mmhmm…" Sorata swallowed another groan and kissed all the way down her neck, chest, belly and thighs, finally settling between her legs. He took a deep breath in and sighed it out as he tenderly spread her apart with his thumbs. "Oh god," she whispered, pulsing at further exposure, but then his mouth was on her and she knew only a tidal wave of pleasure as it rose up and crashed over her. Her toes curled and her thighs seized up, but then Sorata took his mouth away. She couldn't hold back her cry as she looked down at him in disbelief.

"Good?" he asked.

"Yes!" she cried, unable to hide her frustration. Sorata smiled and was right back for more, heartened and aroused by her enthusiasm. He repeated the move, drawing the tip of his tongue up her slit before carefully exploring further. He moaned softly as he tasted her, as her hot, full labia twitched against his tongue. Arashi bit back a moan of her own, gripping hard on the bed sheets. It was all so simple and so soft, but it was enough to make her head spin. He dragged his tongue upwards and paused to circle her clit without touching it, and her entire body seized up, so honed in on the pleasure that was just out of reach, and then he took his tongue away again. Arashi let out another cry, the tension in her body tautening and her inner walls throbbing in frustration. She looked down at Sorata again, her eyes wide and disbelieving.

Sorata met her gaze, a deep flush in his face, and smiled. He moved his thumbs almost playfully against her, and she shifted her hips forward and back and side to side, desperate for more and totally confused why he was teasing her so badly and unsure if she liked it or not. However, she did know she wanted more, that was painfully obvious. She reached out and threaded her fingers through his hair, gently urging him closer. Sorata gasped, but his smile widened and he dove back in, lovingly exploring with his tongue for a moment before finally taking her labia between his lips. He closed his eyes and gently began to suck. Arashi cried out hard and held tight to Sorata's hair, leaning her head back and arching up into the sensation, adoring the gentle pull contrasting with how gentle his lips and tongue felt.

Sorata closed his eyes, feeling the tug at his hair hot down his spine. He let go, then repeated the move on the other side, relishing her taste as he swallowed. He sucked her a moment longer, then pulled away again to look her in the face. A violent shiver ran through his entire body as they locked eyes, from how beautiful she looked, how badly he wanted her pleasure and how arousing he found it all. He hesitated a fraction of a second, then carefully took hold of her thighs and eased them over his shoulders. Arashi cried out in surprise and blushed as her lower back curled upwards, leaving her open and ready and receptive. "Still okay?" Sorata asked, and the desperate need in his voice made Arashi's toes curl.

"Mmhmm," she replied, not trusting herself to find words. Sorata nodded and, with a grateful sigh, dove forward and thrust his tongue inside her. Arashi couldn't hold back her cry; his tongue was so deep and curved at a truly glorious angle, but he was still soft, still reverent, and it was intoxicating. Arashi's thighs began to shake against his shoulders and she moaned fluently, both hands in Sorata's hair, urging him deeper. It all felt so good, but just when she started to wonder if he'd try and make her come this way, he pulled out. She stared down at him, her hands still in his hair, but he just smiled reassuringly and leaned forward to finally wrap his lips around her clit. "Oh GOD!" Arashi moaned, unable to keep her voice down.

Her toes curled and her thighs shook violently. All the easy, soft heat and pleasure that had built so slowly and deliciously had now condensed into a white hot, desperate pressure. She couldn't think, she couldn't move, the sensations had her in such a tight grip. All she could do was moan, shiver and ride the waves of pleasure as they rose and crashed through her body.

Sorata felt the shift immediately and loved it. He dug his fingers into her thighs, his head swimming in a contact high from her pleasure, his own toes curling as he swirled his tongue around her clit faster and sucked even harder.

Intensely and unexpectedly, Arashi realized how close she was and her face burned and contorted with pleasure. She wanted to tell him, but her mind was spinning too fast and she seemed to have lost control of her voice, until-

"OH!" Arashi came suddenly, taking both of them by surprise, the pressure inside her releasing gloriously out through her body in intense, pleasurable shockwaves. Her clit pulsed almost painfully hard in Sorata's mouth and her inner walls throbbed as she shuddered and gasped, continually gripped and released by pleasure.

Sorata moaned appreciatively and pleased her through it until at last he felt her begin to relax. He pulled away, breathing hard through his open mouth for a moment before placing a gentle kiss on her pubic bone. He then sat up, allowing her thighs to fall gracefully onto the bed, and let out another soft moan of longing. She looked amazing, totally blissed out and spent, and a warmth spread throughout his body, almost like gratitude at being able to make her feel that good. He let her rest and recover until she opened her eyes blearily and smiled at up at him. "Come here," she breathed, and Sorata slid up her body so they were nose to nose. He hesitated, but then Arashi summoned all the strength in her body to wrap her arms around him and kiss him deeply on the lips. Sorata let out the smallest of throaty moans and kissed her deeper, the sensation jumpstarting his own arousal, reminding him of how desperate he was.

Arashi shivered as she held him close, her body empty of all except warm, satisfied space. She kissed him slowly but deeply, feeling satisfied as she hadn't been in a long time. She could still taste on herself on his lips and tongue that had pleased her so eagerly, and it was erotic. However, the longer they kissed, the more aware she became of how hard he still was, of how he was grinding gently up against her. She wanted to say something, but she couldn't bear to break their kiss. Eventually, Sorata did pull away, but remained nose to nose with her, the space between them warm and slow.

"Hey," he said, quietly, smiling.

"That was incredible," Arashi breathed, smiling a rather stunned smile back. Sorata flushed with pleasure and kissed her on the lips.

"Good." Arashi let out the smallest of playful giggles and stroked his hair.

"You're still…" She shifted against him, teasing his erection. Sorata closed his eyes and leaned his head back in a soft gasp that made Arashi shiver.

"I know," he replied, feeling the sensation all through his body. "No pressure, but-"

"Let me," she interrupted, the need in his voice killing her.

"What do you wanna do?" he asked, his entire body immediately on edge. Arashi's breath caught in her chest as she considered this. She was positive anything would feel good and that he'd be happy whatever her choice. She swallowed, staring him hard in the face as she bravely wrapped one leg around his waist. Sorata exhaled slowly, his eyes glazing over as he understood.

"Inside," she breathed, "please?" Sorata nodded and kissed her hard on the lips,his hands suddenly everywhere: her thighs, her waist, her belly and up under her shirt. Arashi moaned and arched up into his hands, her inner walls already throbbing hopefully again.

"You have condoms?" Sorata breathed. Arashi flushed, but shook her head. "Fuck, me neither," Sorata replied, cursing this oversight. He pulled away with a sigh, fully prepared to spring to the nearest drugstore, but then, "Wait hold up, I can borrow some from Kamui, give me one second." Arashi's flush deepened, but she nodded.

Sorata gave her one last kiss and got to his feet, swaying slightly as all the blood that might have been in his head was in his erection. He looked down, blushing as he adjusted it, trying and failing to make it less obvious. Arashi pressed her fingers to her mouth, suppressing another soft laugh. Sorata smiled in an "it can't be helped" sort of way and backed out of the room. Arashi sat up, wrapped her arms around her bent knees and rested her chin upon them. As she shifted against the blankets and felt her own smooth skin, she became truly aware for the first time of being undressed from the waist down. She wondered briefly if that was weird, but then heard the knock on Kamui's door.

"What?" came Kamui's voice, grumpily.

"It's Sorata, can I come in for a second?"

"Yeah, what the fuck do you want?" Arashi's senses seemed to sharpen and she listened as hard as she could. The door creaked open. "What?"

"You have condoms I can use?"

"The fuck…?" Arashi's face burned. "You don't need protection from your hand."

"Can I have some or no?"

"Yeah, all I've got's the numbing kind though."

"I could have lived a happier life not knowing that."

"I'm joking, relax." A drawer scraped open.

"Hmm?" Subaru's very sleepy voice.

"Go back to sleep, it's cool," Kamui said, soothingly.

"Mmmhmm…"

"Here, now get the fuck out of my room."

"Thanks," Sorata said, grudgingly, before hurrying back into his own room. He faced Arashi, but as the door fell closed behind him he was instantly aware that something had changed. "Hey," he said, softly, eyes full of concern as he hurried to the bed to sit beside her. "What happened, are you okay?" His heart was pounding.

Arashi's throat burned at his concern and her stomach gave an anxious lurch. She hugged her knees tighter, having no idea how to answer him and hating herself for it. All she knew was the moment the tension had broken, the moment she'd heard a castmate's voice, their secluded, pleasurable bubble had burst, and reality stung her. She'd hooked up with one of her castmates, and people would find out and talk. "Tasteless" was her aunt's word. Arashi hated gossip.

"Arashi's a quiet girl, she keeps to herself too much," her aunt would say to her friends and teachers, whether Arashi was there or not. And yet here she was, shattering her rule about staying out of cast drama into pieces.

"Arashi?" Sorata asked, making her jump. Her throat burned again and she couldn't look at Sorata. It had all felt so good in the moment, but now she was away from her confused mess of feelings for him and back where people thought they had a stake in her life and threw their opinions around like it was nothing. "Did I do something wrong?" Sorata asked, terrified. She shook her head, her throat burning. "Are you sure?" She nodded and forced herself to look at him.

"You're fine, I just," but she broke off, an unpleasant heat in her chest, neck and face. Sorata hesitated a moment, then placed his hand on her upper back. She shuddered and pressed her fingertips to her mouth, the simple, supportive gesture seeming to unlock her.

"You don't have to explain, it's okay," he told her, quietly, rubbing gentle circles on her back. "But can you tell me if you want space? Obviously it's fine if you do, I'll-"

"Stay?" Arashi asked, in a small voice. "Or, let me stay?" she amended, remembering she was in his room.

"Of course!" He looked cautiously relieved and wrapped his arm around her shoulders. Still curled around herself, Arashi leaned against his chest, allowing him to pull her closer. He felt so good, so grounding and stable, so unlike the feverish passion they shared together on stage, and she had no idea which was real or which she liked better or what any of this even was or what people would say. The force of it all was welled up inside her, but she wouldn't cry, she wouldn't.

Sorata felt totally blindsided by her distress and wanted more than anything to help her feel better, but had no idea what to do aside from stick by her. He had the sense that she had been forced to handle herself and her feelings completely on her own for a long time, though whether that was by choice or due to other people's neglect was harder to figure out. Regardless, his heart ached for her.

"I'm sorry," Arashi said, eventually.

"Huh? What for?"

"For stopping like that," she replied, when she'd gathered her courage.

"What?" Sorata asked, bemusedly. "Come on, you never have to apologize for that." A lump rose up in Arashi's throat, but she swallowed it determinedly.

"I, but still, you-"

"I'll live," Sorata assured her. He was positive that wasn't actually what was bothering her, but as always, the last thing he wanted was to pressure her. "I'm tougher than I look," he continued, smiling. Arashi let out a rather miserable giggle, her stomach still squirming guiltily. "Surprising, I know, but-"

"No," Arashi interrupted. "Not surprising." She tucked her hair behind her ears, and another moment's silence passed.

"Do you wanna get dressed?" Sorata asked, kindly. Arashi nodded.

"What time is it?" she asked, pulling away from Sorata regretfully.

"Uh…" He looked over his shoulder at the old alarm clock on his nightstand. "Just after five, we got time." Arashi nodded again. She wanted to stay with Sorata, but she didn't want people to see her coming out of his room or the two of them arriving late like Subaru and Kamui. They were so blatant about it, and everyone talked.

"I'm going to go shower," she said, very quietly, getting to her feet. She kept her back to Sorata as she pulled her pants and underwear back on. Sorata just watched her sadly, his heart aching as her hair fell gracefully around her. "Um, don't take this the wrong way," Arashi said, turning around to face him again, her hands combing nervously through her hair. "But don't tell anyone?" It hurt her to say it, but she had to. She bit her lip, watching anxiously for his reaction. However, he looked more surprised than anything.

"I wasn't gonna," he said, as though it were obvious. Was that what this was about? "Who else needs to know?" Arashi had no answer, though gratitude filled her stomach, finally making it stop twisting.

"No one," she agreed, eventually. "Well, I'll, I'll see you later, I guess." Sorata nodded, his heart aching worse than ever, and Arashi left the room, closing the door quietly behind her.

Sorata fell back against his pillows, sighing as he stared up at his ceiling. He'd hooked up with castmates before (hadn't everyone?) but this was different. Unfortunately, he had no idea why. Were these just feelings from on stage boiling over because of Arashi's epiphany today? Or had these feelings actually been there the whole time, and they'd just been in denial?

He sighed and stretched. He could still smell her hair on his sheets.

"I'm gonna make coffee, if you guys want some," said Karen.

"That'd be great, thank you!" Keiichi replied, smiling warmly at her. They were relaxing on the back porch of Karen and Kakyo's dorm with leftovers for dinner. Karen had invited Keiichi over when she saw Subaru and Kamui, plus Sorata and Arashi, heading back to their dorm in twos. "Thank you," he'd said, gratefully, then, "she figured something out." Karen had nodded in fond agreement.

"Do you want coffee, Kakyo?" Karen asked, ruffling Keiichi's hair as she passed.

"Yes please," he replied, actually smiling at her as she headed into the kitchen.

"So how do you like your first tech week?" Keiichi asked, warmly. "Holding up all right?"

"It's not as bad as I thought it'd be," Kakyo replied, though of course he'd had no idea what to expect, never having done it before and only having his castmates' complaining to go on. "I guess repeating the same thing over and over gets tedious, but I don't really mind."

"This isn't that dynamic a show," Keiichi said, nodding in agreement.

"Dynamic?"

"Mmhmm, like, there's not tons of set changes and movement and stuff," Keiichi explained, enthusiastically. Even after being around him for weeks, Kakyo still found Keiichi's energy a little overwhelming. He wished Hokuto were there.

"I don't think I've ever seen a show like that," he said, shifting in his wicker chair and staring over towards the costume warehouse.

"Get Hokuto to take you after we get done here," replied Keiichi. "She'll show you something good, I'm positive!" Kakyo blushed.

"She's done more than enough for me already," he muttered, rather guiltily. However, even as he said it, he imagined being in the city with Hokuto, picking her up and going to see more theater, maybe even with dinner first… It was the first time he'd actually thought about his return to New York at the end of the summer in a positive light, or at least not as the cataclysmic end he'd been imagining. As he very hesitantly felt heartened by this, he remembered one of the first times they'd met up in person. She'd picked him up outside his building after dark, because he'd been too embarrassed to let her upstairs.

"Nice place!" she said, appreciatively, grinning. Kakyo just shrugged. He'd inherited the apartment from his mother's older sister, though he hardly felt he belonged there, especially considering how badly he treated it. "I love when people only wanna talk to you right before they die," Hokuto had said when he'd told her the story, and he hadn't been able to resist laughing. It felt like his first happy feeling in what might have been weeks.

"Are you hungry?" Hokuto asked, tilting her head to the side. She was dressed way too extravagantly just to see him, and he felt guilty that she'd gone out of her way.

"No," he replied, grateful he'd managed to at least dig up a clean shirt from somewhere.

"Well, I made cookies this morning if you change your mind," she said, patting her purse. "Anyway, let's go this way, I haven't been to Carl Shurz Park in forever!" They headed east towards Lexington Avenue, Hokuto's skin moon bright even in the orange streetlights. They always met up at night, because going out during the day was too much at first. Kakyo felt terrible about his schedule being opposite to normal people's, particularly when Hokuto was visibly tired when she came to see him. "Don't worry about it," she'd always assure him. "As long as I keep going it's okay. It's when I stop that I feel how tired I am." Kakyo had been struck by the words. Hadn't he stopped months ago and been exhausted ever since?

"Is it that simple?" he asked. Hokuto smiled kindly.

"For me. For you it's more complicated, but that's all right." That had also been the first time he'd noticed how green her eyes were.

"I guess she wouldn't mind, though," Kakyo told Keiichi, hesitantly, his heart speeding up.

"For sure!" Keiichi said, encouragingly, clapping Kakyo on the shoulder. Kakyo didn't shrug him away, his mind still full of Hokuto, of her smile and her energy.

"Here," Karen said, the floorboards creaking as she reappeared with two mugs of coffee.

"You're the best!" Keiichi exclaimed, taking one from her and blowing on it.

"Thank you," Kakyo said, quietly, taking the other. Karen smiled and went back inside for her own mug. Kakyo watched her go, reflecting that her smile, while beautiful, didn't affect him the same way as Hokuto's, even on stage, and that while he appreciated the care she showed him, he didn't feel it as deeply. Transeau was in love with Irene, though, wasn't he?

"Someone you actually care about. Hokuto."

Kakyo took a sharp breath in as Fuuma's words from what felt like a million years ago came back to him, loud and clear but confusing as ever. Was that what he'd meant? Now those feelings that always rose up inside him watching Sorata and Arashi kiss on stage were back in full force, confusing and powerful and overwhelming.

'Is it that simple?' he thought, simultaneously heartened and terrified. Fortunately, at that moment Karen returned and he refocused his attention to her, their coffee and the conversation.

"What do you think they're working on?" she asked, sitting down and gazing over at a cluster BTI students working in the distance.

"Hard to say," Keiichi replied, squinting over. "It brings me back, though!"

"You did a few summers up here, right?" Karen asked, sipping coffee.

"Yup!" Keiichi replied, his chest swelling. "I'd love to teach here someday, once I'm actually experienced enough to do it. That'd make me really happy."

"And it'd make your father proud too, I'm sure," Karen said, and Keiichi gave her a glowing smile. Kakyo doubted any of his own family would care that he was up here or what he was doing, but then reflected that he'd never been able to make them proud anyway, so why would this be different? However, this wasn't as sad a thought as it might have been as his mind jumped right back to Hokuto. If he wanted to make anyone proud, it was her. What was more, he actually could make her proud, couldn't he? Hadn't he been earning her praise all summer?

"Oh no, my parents have no idea what I do, it's been way too long since I've seen them," Karen told Keiichi in answer to a question Kakyo hadn't heard. However, at her words he felt his attention sharpen while Keiichi looked suddenly horrified.

"I'm sorry! I didn't-"

"No no, it's nothing to apologize for," Karen interrupted, waving the words aside. "It is what it is, don't worry about it." Keiichi nodded and drank more coffee, still looking rather awkward. However, Karen reflected that it was actually sort of true. It wasn't as though her story was unique: many people came into this line of work from fucked up backgrounds, most worse than hers. She could remember being much younger, thinking she was being strong and helping herself and recovering by not talking, by suppressing memories and ignoring feelings while losing herself in her roles.

"You're so closed off," a castmate had said, shortly after her nineteenth birthday.

'Better that than talking constantly about your damage without actually saying anything,' Karen thought, spitefully. However, it had made her stomach clench painfully and she hadn't had the courage to reply. In time, though, with the right roles and the right people and the right distance, she had started talking, though that specific interaction had never really left her. She didn't ever want to talk without saying anything, and in any case she didn't feel her story was one to be held up as an example of recovery and moving on to greater things. However, not talking as a choice, rather than because she just couldn't, felt much better. She gave Keiichi another reassuring smile and ruffled his hair again.

"You should do that on stage," he said, playfully. "Every time Jepsen starts acting up." Karen raised her eyebrows while Kakyo suppressed a laugh.

"Jepsen would probably get off on it, I don't think that's a good idea."

"Ah, that is a good point," Keiichi replied, and Kakyo swallowed another laugh in a sip of coffee.

"I mean, suggest it to Fuuma anyway, he might like it," Karen said, fairly. Keiichi's eyes widened and he held his hands up in front of him as though surrendering.

"Oh no, I'm not risking him deciding to change everything to accommodate it!" Both Karen and Kakyo burst into laughter, but Keiichi muttered, "I'm so serious, don't even," into his coffee.

"That's very considerate of you!" Everyone started and turned to find Hokuto on the threshold, grinning broadly and covered head to toe in glitter.

"Why are you all sparkly?" Keiichi asked, looking her up and down.

"Why wouldn't I be sparkly?" Hokuto countered, making them all laugh.

"Fair point!" Keiichi conceded.

"I just got done at the kids' summer camp," Hokuto explained, pulling a chair up to join them. "My other other other gig, helping everybody put finishing touches on their costumes for their show next Saturday." She ran her fingers through her hair, sending glitter everywhere.

"What show were you working on?" Karen asked with great interest. She'd have loved a theater summer camp when she was a kid.

"The Tempest," Hokuto replied, fondly. "The boy playing Ariel is killing it." She brushed more glitter off her arms with an affectionate sigh and Kakyo blushed. He didn't know the play and wasn't sure what she was talking about, but it didn't bother him. He was just pleased to have her there. "But yes, that's why I haven't been around: making sure children and teenagers don't stab themselves with needles or burn themselves with hot glue."

"Hot glue burns aren't so bad, ask cosplayers!" Keiichi interrupted, amid another burst of laughter. Again, Kakyo wasn't sure what they were talking about, but he loved watching Hokuto laugh, loved how her eyes would light up and her hair would bounce about her shoulders.

"So fill me in! How's tech? Scale of one to," Hokuto paused. "Pretending my brother and Kamui aren't banging, how annoying is Fuuma being?" Kakyo sputtered into his coffee, Keiichi looked thoughtful and Karen just smiled and asked,

"Is that annoying? I thought that was just courtesy!" Hokuto snorted.

"Yeah that's not really a good metric," Keiichi added, apologetically. "But Fuuma's been okay. He freaked out about the same lighting cue yesterday and today, but then Seishiro showed up and he got over it." Hokuto snorted again.

"Yeah that tends to happen." She reclined in her chair, staring out over the lawn. "Or it just makes it worse. That's what happened last year."

"I keep hearing about last year's show," Karen said, sitting up a little straighter as though seizing a chance. "Are you allowed to say exactly why it was so awful?" Hokuto let out a sharp burst of laughter.

"Oh please, nobody here signed a damn NDA, you guys can tell, I'm sure." Karen, Keiichi and Kakyo all exchanged looks before staring avidly at Hokuto. "I think it was a bunch of things," she said, adopting a more serious tone despite her obvious pleasure at her audience. "Did any of you actually see In Your Silence?" Keiichi and Karen both nodded.

"I thought it was good," Karen said. "But to hear him talk about it, it was a disaster."

"The show wasn't a disaster," Hokuto agreed. "Like I said, I think it was several things, but the show itself wasn't one of them. It was just easier to say it was, you know how that goes." She ran her fingers through her hair again, shaking more glitter onto the cracked and warped floorboards. "Fuuma got super confident coming off Yoru the season before, but I mean, who wouldn't? That whole production was brilliant."

"I could hardly stand to watch it, to be honest," Karen said. "In a good way, but still."

"It's very that," Hokuto agreed. "Anyway, last summer he tried to do something completely different that was much bigger and looser, and it got away from him a little bit." Karen and Keiichi both nodded and leaned in closer to hear more. "Don't tell anyone I said this, but I think truly? If Seishiro had been there? It would have been fine," Hokuto said, crossing her arms in front of her chest and tilting her head to the side. "I don't know what was going on between them last year so I don't want to make assumptions, but Seishiro was never here, or at least, I hardly ever saw him." She didn't know Seishiro well and had never pretended they were anything more than colleagues. It wasn't enough for her to ask what was going on between him and Fuuma, but it was enough for her to be keen to keep Subaru away her first few years here. Until of course he'd started bringing Fuuma around. "Anyway, something got fucked up somewhere, that much was obvious," she finished. Even though she'd never asked, she couldn't help but feel curious about the ins and outs of Fuuma and Seishiro's relationship: how two fiercely independent (or commitmentphobic, depending on who asked) people stayed in each other's orbit without killing each other. She supposed having the theater in the center of it made it easier, but that was it.

"Seishiro isn't at all how I pictured," Karen said, thoughtfully, sipping coffee.

"Everyone always says that," Hokuto replied, smiling almost fondly. "Especially if they knew Setsuka." Karen nodded, remembering again her first time seeing her on stage, her presence and power. Seishiro had it too, but it was somehow deeper and darker. It hadn't surprised Karen at all that he wasn't a performer.

"Did you guys eat?" Hokuto asked, suddenly stern. Although she was addressing everyone, she was only looking at Kakyo.

"We did," he assured her, smiling, and she reached out and gave his arm a squeeze.

"Cool. I'll try and come visit later, make sure Fuuma and Seishiro are behaving themselves." Everyone laughed, and Hokuto gave Kakyo's arm another squeeze, then trailed her fingertips across his shoulders as she returned to the kitchen. As Kakyo turned to watch her go, Karen and Keiichi started talking resignedly about getting back to work. However, the words missed Kakyo completely; his attention was too focused on Hokuto's hips and how they swayed as she walked.

"Thanks again for having me over," Yuzuriha told Kusanagi, smiling at him across the gearshift. She was perched once again in the passenger seat of his truck, a container of pasta and sauce in her lap.

"Anytime," Kusanagi replied, not taking his eyes off the road but returning her smile. Yuzuriha blushed softly and looked down at the container, still warm against her thighs.

"You've seriously spoiled me for tomatoes now," she said. Kusanagi laughed his booming laugh that always made her heart skip.

"You can take some with you next time, you saw I've got tons."

"Oh no, I wouldn't know what to do with them!" Yuzuriha replied in a hurry, her blush deepening. Kusanagi pulled up to a red light on the outskirts of Clow and finally turned to face her, his expression soft. "Well that's not entirely true," Yuzuriha amended, her heart speeding up. "But I'm pretty sure whatever you make would be better. Sorry, is that weird to say?" Kusanagi considered her, knowing full well she wasn't actually talking about tomatoes, and therefore proceeded cautiously.

"You give me too much credit," he replied, quietly. "But you're always welcome to come and try more." Yuzuriha's eyes widened and her breath caught in her chest as the space between them tautened. Did he mean what she thought he meant? No, there was no way, except…

The light changed. Kusanagi broke their gaze to shift gears and drive them into Clow, the main street already livening up as the sun sank lower and lower behind the trees. Yuzuriha stared about, her face burning and a warm glow in her chest, feeling once more like she was floating. It was a beautiful evening, and Kusanagi's music filled the car and his words continued to echo in her ears.

Their whole evening had felt so easy and so good, though of course she'd been unable to stop herself picturing the situation escalating. She imagined leaning into him and kissing up against the counter, or a wall, or even him lifting her into his arms, or, she bit down on the inside of her lip, riding him on his couch as hard as she could, how he'd feel inside and out, his faces and noises. She shook herself and forced her mind back to the present just as she had done before, to the situation in front of her, far away from that other scenario which still felt so heart achingly unattainable.

A car horn sounded right behind them, making them both jump. "Excuse me?" Kusanagi asked, sounding more confused than annoyed as his eyes flitted upward to his rearview mirror. However, he just laughed and waved. Yuzuriha turned around in her seat to see Yuuto and Kanoe waving from the car behind them. She giggled as Kusanagi shifted gears and drove them through the intersection. "So rude," he said, despairingly, guiding the car down the hill, past the brooding Victorian house and finally pulling into BTC's crunchy gravel driveway. As Kusanagi parked his truck, Yuzuriha felt that same twinge of regret that always came with not making at least some kind of move. She tried to assuage the feeling by reminding herself how well everything had gone, but then wondered if she'd always be content with this, what she'd even do if he showed signs of reciprocating, if the "you're always welcome to come try more" had actually been an invitation or a delusional hope. However, she pushed the thoughts away. She didn't need to go there right now. Not before rehearsal.

"I had an awesome time with you today," she told Kusanagi, smiling as Yuuto and Kanoe crunched into the parking spot beside them.

"So did I," Kusanagi replied, giving her a warm smile that she returned, feeling again that insane urge to just lean in and kiss him. Her lips parted, but then her brain caught up with her body.

"I'm gonna go put these in my fridge," she said, her voice quiet all of a sudden as she unbuckled her seatbelt. "But I'll see you in a little bit!"

"You will," Kusanagi agreed, also rather quietly. With that, Yuzuriha opened the door, jumped down from the truck and slammed it shut behind her. Kusanagi took a deep breath in and exhaled slowly as he watched her run towards her dorm, then got out of his truck too, slammed the door and locked it.

"Where were you all afternoon?" Yuuto asked from right behind him. He started and turned to see him and Kanoe apparently waiting for him.

"My house. I had some tomato sauce I wanted to share," Kusanagi replied, warning in his voice. He knew if he were anyone else the pair of them would immediately start needling and gossiping, but they let him be, just as they always did. They'd learned quickly from the first time they'd propositioned him.

"That's sweet!" Kanoe said, and the three of them set off together towards the Igarashi.

Kusanagi looked once more over his shoulder at Yuzuriha's dorm. He wondered if Sorata and Arashi had talked about whatever they'd needed to, if whatever he'd helped Yuzuriha escape had resolved itself or if she'd come home to a warzone. Either way, he did feel that he'd done the right thing. As he entered the lobby, Yuuto and Kanoe's chatter swirling around him, he caught sight of the Macbeth poster and of the director's name. He suddenly remembered Setsuka's funeral, another time he'd removed someone from a volatile situation. He supposed if that was about as deep as he involved himself with the interpersonal drama that went on around here, it wasn't so bad.

"You're back!" Kanoe cried, suddenly, as they entered the theater to find Fuuma and Seishiro side by side in the front row again.

"I am," Seishiro agreed, resignedly, but he seemed far less tense than he had been earlier.

"Mr. and Mrs. Aoki said Sunday night works for them," Kanoe said, before eagerly waxing on about her plans for the dinner party.

Behind her, Kusanagi caught Seishiro's eye. He nodded, and Kusanagi smiled before heading into the dressing room.

Yuzuriha scribbled "Yuzuriha's! Touch it and face my wrath! (there's exactly 33 chunks of tomato in here do NOT think I'm playing)" on a post-it, stuck it to the container of leftovers and tucked it safely into the fridge. She straightened up and turned to pick up her bag again, but then jumped and let out a squeal of surprise.

"Oh my god you scared the hell out of me!" she exclaimed, clutching her chest. Arashi stood frozen at the bottom of the stairs, looking mortified.

"I'm sorry! I didn't think anyone else was here!" she cried, flustered.

"Me neither, it's okay," Yuzuriha assured her, catching her breath. "Sorry to startle you."

"It's fine," Arashi said, running her fingers through her long hair. Yuzuriha thought for a split second of asking Arashi how her afternoon went, but that seemed insensitive. However, Arashi saved her the trouble of thinking of something else to say by asking the question herself.

"Good!" Yuzuriha said, surprised but grinning. "I hung out with Kusanagi, he made me pasta." She couldn't help but feel rather pleased with herself as she said it.

"That sounds really nice," Arashi said, earnestly, smiling as she approached her.

"It was," Yuzuriha agreed, wanting to keep the conversation going. "Kusanagi has this amazing garden, and I'm horrible at growing things so it was like, extra impressive. Animals I'm cool with, but plants? Not so much." Arashi giggled softly. It was a relief to have Yuzuriha around, her energy and positive attitude and receptivity. She probably felt closest to her of all the people here, right? But how did Yuzuriha feel? Did she agree? Arashi could still feel her own afternoon simmering inside her, all over her skin despite scrubbing herself clean earlier. Did Yuzuriha know? Could she tell? Arashi didn't want anyone to know, but an insane desire to fess up was suddenly gnawing at the inside of her chest and throat. "Hey, are you okay?" Yuzuriha asked, and Arashi hated the concern in her expression and voice.

"What? Oh I'm fine just," she cast wildly about for an excuse. "Just thinking about going back to work." Yuzuriha nodded glumly.

"Yeah I feel that. Speaking of, we should probably go."

"Right." Yuzuriha and Arashi set off together for the Igarashi, not speaking, but somehow intensely aware of each other in the warm evening light. Yuzuriha pulled open the heavy lobby door, and Arashi wondered if it would look more or less suspicious if they arrived together. If anything, Yuzuriha tended to distract everyone, so Arashi could probably sneak in unnoticed. At the same time though, she couldn't help but feel that her afternoon with Sorata had robbed her of her ability to stay invisible, that she was now under a spotlight, except that she wasn't on stage, she wasn't playing a character. She was just there as her freaked out and confused self.

"Arashi?" She stopped halfway through the lobby and faced Yuzuriha, who looked more concerned than ever. Arashi suddenly became aware of how shallowly she was breathing, of how fast her heart was beating. "Are you sure you're all right?" Arashi held her gaze in the suddenly airless lobby for a moment that dragged painfully. "Hey," Yuzuriha said, rushing forward and gently taking hold of Arashi's upper arm. She was positive it had something to do with Sorata and whatever they'd talked about that afternoon, but she didn't dare say so should it come out the wrong way. However, the touch on the arm seemed to dislodge something, and Arashi's eyes filled with tears in the ensuing landslide of emotion. Yuzuriha gasped and Arashi pressed her lips tightly together and shook her head vigorously.

"Oh god, I'm sorry!" she cried, mortified, clapping her hand to her mouth.

"It's okay, it's okay," Yuzuriha said at once, low and soothing, giving Arashi's arm a squeeze. "Here," she continued, gently guiding her to the bathrooms on the other side of the lobby which were thankfully empty. Arashi leaned against a sink, trying valiantly to stop crying though her efforts only seemed to make it worse. Yuzuriha seized a fistful of tissues from one of the boxes between the sinks and handed them to her. She took them and wiped her eyes impatiently.

"Sorry," she said, thickly. "Sorry, don't worry about me, go back to rehearsal, it's fine!" Yuzuriha's expression tightened.

"Arashi," she said, very seriously. "If you actually don't wanna talk about it, that's cool, but you can't seriously think I'd just leave you like this." Arashi's lip trembled and she pressed the tissues to her mouth, her eyes huge and fearful. She could practically feel the words bubbling in her chest again, and knew instinctively that trying to suppress them would be pointless, but she'd never really been in this position before and the pain in her chest was sharp and real and Yuzuriha was there, had always been there. She took a great, shuddering breath.

"Promise you won't tell anyone?" she asked, and she hated how childish she sounded. However, Yuzuriha just nodded earnestly, her expression still tight.

"Of course!" Arashi had no idea whether or not to believe her, but in that moment she didn't care. Her heart swelled in her chest and it seemed to push the words out of her burning, tight throat.

"Sorata and I, um," she blushed, at saying his name and because she wasn't even sure exactly how to phrase what had happened. Again, she hated how childish she sounded. Yuzuriha's eyes widened.

"Hooked up?" she offered, quietly. Arashi nodded, and so did Yuzuriha, because she was scared of saying the wrong thing. Unfortunately, Arashi had no idea what to make of her silence. Surely she must be judging her, right?

"It, I don't know, it was-" but she broke off and crossed her arms in front of her chest defensively. She hated the searching look Yuzuriha was now wearing and she didn't want to give her the wrong idea, particularly since she seemed to have an opinion already. She closed her eyes, but before she could turn away Yuzuriha carefully pulled her into a hug. Completely taken aback, Arashi shuddered in her arms, and then began to cry in earnest in a deeply confusing mix of gratitude and paralyzing fear. Yuzuriha closed her eyes and rubbed up and down her back. Although she felt ready to cry herself, she managed to stay present and focused, wanting more than anything to be there for her friend.

"It's all right," she breathed, over and over. "Whatever you're feeling, it's all right." Arashi shuddered again. Truthfully she had no idea what she was feeling, only that some part of her she'd never thought to tap into was suddenly in high gear and had released a tidal wave of entangled, unnamable things. She only half believed Yuzuriha when she said it was okay just to feel it, but it was such a relief that she was still there and wasn't judging, it seemed half was better than no belief. Arashi cried and cried, until eventually she was able to get some semblance of control over herself.

"Sorry," she said, thickly, pulling away, but before she could wipe her eyes, Yuzuriha tenderly held the sides of her face in both hands and rubbed her thumbs under her eyes, catching the last of her tears.

"Nothing to apologize for," she told her, quietly but sincerely. "We've all been there, don't worry." Arashi's lip trembled. Yuzuriha gave her a reassuring smile. "No pressure, obviously, but, do you wanna talk about what's freaking you out?" Arashi just stared back at her helplessly.

"It's nothing bad, just…" She swallowed and stared around hopelessly. Nothing? Everything?

"It's always weird your first time with someone new," Yuzuriha prompted, understandingly.

"Is it?!" Arashi burst out, completely without meaning to, blushing furiously.

"Totally!" Yuzuriha replied, her eyes widening as though it were obvious. "Plus him being a castmate and all, it makes you think." Arashi's eyes filled with tears again. Yuzuriha just smiled and handed her another fistfull of tissues. She understood completely what Arashi was going through, it reminded her of herself when she was first starting out and learning how to navigate working together and feelings and personalities. It surprised her that Arashi seemed so vulnerable and caught off guard by this, but then again, maybe she actually liked Sorata. Arashi blew her nose and wiped her fresh tears away.

"Have you ever…?" she asked, in a small voice.

"Hooked up with a castmate? Of course," Yuzuriha replied, kindly. Arashi pressed the soaked tissues to her mouth, her eyes widening in childlike curiosity. "You wanna hear a story about that? I promise you it's way worse than yours!" Arashi just swallowed, and Yuzuriha smiled and began. "So I was dating this guy my junior year of high school, and we ended up in the spring show together, of course as romantic leads." Arashi was already waiting for the "but," and couldn't understand why Yuzuriha was still smiling. "Everything was going great until he broke up with me halfway through rehearsal for the girl playing my mother."

"What?!" Arashi cried, mortified on Yuzuriha's behalf despite the fact that she was still smiling.

"Right? The worst part was-"

"It gets worse?!"

"It was high school, of course it does!" Arashi let out a snort of laughter in spite of herself, and Yuzuriha beamed. "They started smearing my name, going on about how much they loved each other and how much better he had it now and all that other bullshit."

"What did you do?" Arashi asked, breathlessly, her eyes huge but finally dry. Personally, she felt she'd have just died of embarrassment.

"Cried a lot," replied Yuzuriha, shrugging. "I didn't drop out of the show or anything, but I kept to myself way more after that. Of course that sucked because then I had everyone and their best friend suddenly interested in my life." Arashi made a disgusted noise, feeling the words deep inside.

"That's horrible, I'm so sorry," Arashi said, and she meant it. Weirdly enough, as awful as the story was, it did make her feel better to hear it, to be feeling something on behalf of someone else. Yuzuriha took her hand and gave it a squeeze.

"Thank you. It's all right though. I survived, then it was summer vacation so I got some distance."

"How?" Arashi asked, before she could stop herself. Yuzuriha laughed and ran her fingers through her hair.

"Did I survive? Well I won't lie, at the time it was all pretty traumatic, but," she paused, trying to think of the best way to say this. "People are gonna say what they're gonna say, but just because they say it doesn't make it true." For the briefest moment, her mind flashed to Kusanagi and how many people had seen them leave together. "Kamui also punched my ex, that helped," she said, shrugging.

"He what?!"

"Well that wasn't all he did, he stuck by me and took really good care of me the whole time, but he kept threatening to go kick his ass, because, you know, that would have helped." She smiled as she remembered him with his hands balled into fists, only managing to control his frustration for her.

"It'll make me feel better!" he'd insisted.

"But he got his chance during rehearsal, because his character had to punch my ex's character, so he 'accidentally' clocked him in the face instead of," Yuzuriha turned, threw a punch with her right hand and slapped her chest with her left. Arashi looked horrified.

"That wasn't immediately obvious to everyone?!" she asked, incredulously, and Yuzuriha burst out laughing.

"Oh it totally was, are you kidding?! And he wants to stand there like," she held up her hands and put on an expression of exaggerated surprise, then, adopting her best Kamui impression, "Oh shit, I'm sorry, I mean we knew that had to happen, ahh jeez, you all right, dude?" Arashi giggled, still in total disbelief but able to imagine it perfectly. "So if you need one of us to have words or-"

"No no," Arashi interrupted, holding her hands up in front of her as though pushing the suggestion away. "It's nothing bad, I promise. We were talking, and it just kind of happened, and… I guess it just caught up with me all of a sudden?" Yes, that sounded right. "Is that weird?" she asked, her voice lowering.

"Nah, we've all been there too," Yuzuriha replied, confidentially. "Especially considering you guys' parts and that Sorata's really cute, I don't blame you." Arashi wiped her eyes one last time, but managed another laugh, and Yuzuriha was delighted.

"Sorry about this," Arashi said again, but then before Yuzuriha could counter, "Or, thanks for being there, I suppose. Sorry…" She blushed, but Yuzuriha beamed.

"Any time! And like I said, your secret's safe with me." Arashi sighed, but she was either too tired to not take her seriously or she actually sort of believed her. Either way, she turned on the nearest sink, stuck her hands under the jet and splashed the cool water on her face. She felt strangely serene in the aftermath of her tears. She hadn't cried like that in a very long time, not even on stage, and although her sinuses hurt and her head was full and heavy, the rest of her body felt strangely light. She shut off the water and dried her face. Even though she still had no idea what was coming next, now she was at least confident she wouldn't burst into tears during rehearsal, which was very comforting.

"Better?" Yuzuriha asked. Arashi nodded. "You want water or anything?"

"No no, I'm fine, let's just-" but at that moment the door creaked open. Yuzuriha and Arashi whirled around and found themselves face to face with Satsuki. Her eyes widened for a moment, but then narrowed into her usual disdainful stare.

"Skipping rehearsal?" she asked.

"Yup," Yuzuriha replied at once, grinning. "You want in?"

"No." Satsuki stepped into a stall. Yuzuriha rolled her eyes ostentatiously at Arashi, who hastily suppressed a giggle.

"Why, you guys miss us?" Yuzuriha asked. Satsuki didn't reply until she reemerged from the bathroom stall, fixing them both with a deeply mistrustful look as she washed her hands.

"No, but Fuuma's getting antsy." Arashi's heart gave a sudden, nervous skip, but Yuzuriha just rolled her eyes again.

"Are you even allowed to be out here? I figure he'd wanna keep track of the rest of you." Satsuki shut off the water and dried her hands, and the disdain in her expression sharpened as she looked Yuzuriha in the face. However, as she spoke, the corner of her mouth twitched as though she were about to smile.

"Let him try." Yuzuriha grinned appreciatively.

"All right, all right, back to tech hell!" she cried, despairingly, and the three of them left the bathroom together, Satsuki in the lead.

The rest of the cast was already waiting for them, on stage and in costume. Arashi immediately spotted Sorata and his sigh of relief at her arrival.

"Sorry!" Yuzuriha called to Fuuma, looking and sounding convincingly exasperated. "It's my fault, I kept Arashi, we'll be right out!" And the pair of them sprinted into the dressing room. Sorata watched them go, his heart aching and stomach twisting despite the fact that she'd turned up safely. He'd talk to her later, if she was willing and able.

"Yeah yeah," replied Fuuma, his eyes darting between their retreating backs and Sorata. "We can just start without them. Places for the top of Act Four!" His cast obeyed, and he sat down between Nataku and Seishiro. "Let me see it."

The screen glowed its springy yellow green, and Satsuki brought up the rest of the lights. "The brigade's leaving today, it's the end of an era!" Kakyo began.

"This place will finally get some peace and quiet," said Kusanagi.

"And crippling boredom," added Karen, while Yuzuriha and Arashi snuck back into the audience. As was his MO today, Fuuma didn't stop for small adjustments, but made notes about them so he could address them later. Fortunately, Act Four was far simpler than Act Three, so there wasn't really much to address anyway. Instead, he kept watching Seishiro out of the corner of his eye for any nods or eyerolls and listening for any scoffs or affirmations. They'd talked a little over dinner back at the house, but then gotten distracted. However, Fuuma found he wanted Seishiro's opinion on his work far more than he wanted the orgasms.

"Hey, is Arashi all right?" Kamui asked, quietly, leaning across Keiichi to address Yuzuriha as Arashi left to take her cue.

"Hmm? Oh yeah, just tech stress."

"Okay," Kamui replied, not satisfied at all but understanding he was to ask nothing else. "Sorry," he added to Keiichi as he sat up straight again. "I wasn't trying to feel you up, I swear."

"I understand, it's no problem!" Keiichi replied, breezily, though he blew an ostentatious kiss to Kamui, who waggled his tongue appreciatively. Sorata heard the exchange from his seat on Kamui's other side and wondered if "tech stress" had been what Arashi had told Yuzuriha, if she'd told her anything at all. He shifted uncomfortably in his seat. He didn't like all the secrecy and talking around things. Why shouldn't they just be open and honest and speak plainly?

Or at least, that was how he'd felt before he learned just how difficult that truly was for people. He'd always taken it for granted that people knew what they were feeling and were always able to express it, so if they didn't, it was their choice. It had never occurred to him that his forthrightness might pressure people, or that there really were times and places not to say things, even if those things were both positive and truthful. "That doesn't make it necessary!" his last girlfriend had shouted at him, exasperatedly, during their final big argument. He shifted uncomfortably again. The last thing he wanted was to pressure Arashi, but if they were both holding back, wouldn't that just leave them with nothing?

"People keep telling me I'm a bitch," Arashi said, from her seat at the table with Kusanagi. "But when you only get scraps of happiness you have to snatch at them, and it toughens you up."

"I'm going to step out for a minute," Seishiro muttered to Fuuma.

"Mmhmm." Seishiro got to his feet and left in rather a hurry. Satsuki watched him go with narrowed eyes, massaging her new muscle relief patch into her still sore back.

Seishiro sighed as he emerged into the lobby, silent and peaceful and full of golden evening light. However, as he reached into the inside pocket of his suit jacket for his cigarettes, "Sei-chan!" He stared about confusedly, but then spotted Hokuto at the bar and headed towards her.

"Hello," he said, pleasantly.

"Long time no see, how've you been?" she asked, grinning.

"Well enough. Yourself?"

"Good good. Happy to be here even though it means I'm stuck out in the middle of nowhere for three months." Seishiro allowed her a small smile.

"I like your costumes." Hokuto bowed her head graciously, though she knew that was high praise coming from him and truly did appreciate it.

"You should see what I did for my kids today, it was way more interesting."

"I'll take your word for it," Seishiro replied with distaste. Hokuto just laughed and shoved his shoulder playfully. "What brings you to rehearsal, catching up on this year's project?" Hokuto's expression tightened for a second.

"What are you doing here, making sure Fuuma's not sleeping with his lead again?" Seishiro held her gaze in tense silence, but then laughed in grudging respect.

"Making sure he doesn't get himself murdered during tech, but now I'm just out for a cigarette."

"That's bad for you." Seishiro shrugged. "I was hoping to run into you, actually," Hokuto continued. "But now I have, I can go check on everyone else." Though of course, by everyone else she just meant Kakyo and Subaru.

"You can," Seishiro replied, lightly.

"I'll see you later, don't ghost me," Hokuto said, dire warning in her voice. Seishiro just laughed quietly and turned to go. As he left the lobby, his eyes travelled over the Macbeth and Yoru posters. The door swung shut, and Hokuto shook her head to clear it and entered the theater to find Karen and Kakyo alone downstage center.

"Don't bullshit me, you've been acting weird all day," Karen said, her arms also crossed. Kakyo said nothing. "What happened yesterday?" she asked, furtively. Kakyo sighed heavily and averted his gaze. Hokuto remained in the doorway, watching but without drawing attention.

"Just give me an hour, okay?" he said. Karen immediately made to protest, but Kakyo forestalled her.

"I fell in love with you when I met you, five years ago today, and you look more and more beautiful every day, it kills me." Karen's face fell and she bit her lip. As if he knew exactly what she was thinking, Kakyo continued, "I swear I'll make you happy, even though I know you don't love me back." His voice trailed away, and though he was clearly saddened to say it, he was confident, and it was that more than anything that caused Hokuto's heart to squeeze painfully. She knew people lied to each other's faces all the time, and to themselves even more, but something about the way he said the line made her think… Was this just Kakyo's natural ability Fuuma had so quickly spotted even when she hadn't, or was this something he really related to?

"I can't force it," Karen told Kakyo, quietly, reaching forward and taking his hand. He smiled tenderly at the gesture and Hokuto's heart throbbed. "I'll be a good wife to you," Karen pressed on earnestly. "I'll take care of you always, it's the least I can do!" Kakyo nodded, still wearing his tender, knowing smile. "I've never been in love, I don't think I ever will be, it's just never going to happen for me." Kakyo sighed and let go of her hand, allowing her to wipe her eyes. "Why are you in such a weird mood today?" Hokuto rolled her eyes.

'Maybe because he's your husband and you've told him you've never been in love?' she thought, impatiently. Really, how stupid was this character?

"I got no sleep last night," Kakyo said, evasively. Hokuto immediately remembered Kakyo using the same line on her, out of character and even less happy. She didn't like how he'd be up all hours of the night and sleep away the day.

"You need a job with a regular schedule," she'd tell him sternly, over and over.

"I can't, nowhere will hire me," he'd reply, over and over.

Hokuto sighed softly as Fuuma stopped the scene to enter into a back and forth with Satsuki about lights. She was of course thrilled that Kakyo had been able to make friends with his castmates, that they'd accepted him so willingly. It was also helpful that Fuuma prefered casting new people whenever possible. With a few exceptions from the standing company, almost everyone was in the same boat. It was the refreshing opposite of high school drama, where it was always the same people playing the same characters each semester. It had all seemed so impenetrable to Subaru, and she'd offered to help him, but,

"I don't need your help!" he'd snapped at her.

Her focus on Kakyo seemed to sharpen as Fuuma and Satsuki's words kept everything else an irritated blur. Subaru had been right, of course; he'd auditioned for A Midsummer Night's Dream their sophomore year and gotten Puck over the person who'd seemed a shoe in, but she'd be lying if she said it hadn't been hard to hear. However, she was usually the one who made the effort to separate, to remind him that they were different people. She had no patience for that kind of codependency in any relationship. Her lip curled softly at Seishiro having the nerve to call Kakyo her project when he'd spent the last four years trying to corral Fuuma and keep him close. Talk about a project…

"Yeah, that'll work," Fuuma said, loudly, from his front row seat, before turning, probably to look for Seishiro. However, he smiled when he spotted Hokuto. "Hey! The fuck are you doing here?"

"Just visiting," Hokuto replied, brightly, waving at the cast. Kakyo's chest swelled and his face lit up.

"Is Seishiro still outside? We're almost at the part I want him to see!" Fuuma asked impatiently. Hokuto rolled her eyes, but then, as if on cue, Seishiro appeared behind her, bringing a strong smell of cigarettes into the room.

"Speak of the devil!" Kanoe said, loudly.

"I'll tell him you called," Seishiro replied as he sat back down.

"Yeah yeah, come on, I wanna get this done," Fuuma said irritably. "Transeau, let's have your line, please?" Hokuto flashed Kakyo a smile and a peace sign as he and his castmates got back into position. She wondered if Fuuma's irritation with other people was impatience or feeling unheard. If her life's experience had taught her anything, it was that not being heard was devastating, even if the people talking had no idea what they wanted to say or how to say it. Although she herself was a good listener, it was hard to empathize: communication had never been an issue for her.

"Communication… That's a nice way of saying 'never being quiet,'" Subaru had told her, playfully, back in college, and she'd smacked him with a pillow. However, shortly after that conversation he'd told her, "No! You don't know, so don't tell me you understand!" A flush burned between her collar bones. She couldn't place the exact fight, they'd had the same one many times throughout high school and college; that was when he started arguing back with her rather than just heeding her advice. His words always stuck with her, like a fragmented splinter that would periodically expel pieces. The last piece had come out at Yoru's final night, when she'd overheard Yuuto and Kanoe telling some audience member about communication being the key to their successful relationship.

"Is it actually communication when they just toss their dogma back and forth without actually saying anything?" Hokuto had muttered to Camellia, who had also paused to eavesdrop. She shrugged. "Not that I'm judging…"

"Not that any of us judge," she replied, smiling almost wistfully.

"It's crazy, what suddenly matters to you," Kakyo said from on stage, jerking Hokuto back to the present. "Even when you know it's trivial petty bullshit it feels important, and you can't stop." The flush between Hokuto's collar bones spread and she crossed her arms in front of her chest. "Fuck, sorry, let me not," Kakyo continued, holding his hands up in front of him and shaking his head rather sadly. "It's beautiful out today!" Karen raised her eyebrows at his abrupt shift to a would-be encouraging tone. "The grass is finally green, the trees have leaves again!" He smiled bravely, stepped forward and kissed Karen tenderly on the cheek. Hokuto smiled despite the burning flush travelling up to her throat. "I've gotta go, I'll see you later." He turned, but Karen caught him by the arm.

"I'll go with you!"

"No!" Kakyo cried, apparently more loudly than he'd intended because he closed his eyes for a moment to collect himself before continuing in a calmer tone. "No." He gave her another brave smile that made Hokuto's throat constrict. "Irene?"

"What?" Kakyo hesitated, and for a fraction of a second his eyes darted to Hokuto, making her heart squeeze painfully.

"I haven't had coffee yet today," he continued, his gaze snapping back to Karen. "Will you make me some?" Karen just stared back at him, nonplused, but before she could reply Kakyo gave her another brave smile and hurried off stage through the audience. He caught Hokuto's eye again, and she beamed. He smiled back, and for a split second he seemed ready to approach her, but sat down in the audience instead. Taking that as her cue to leave, Hokuto backed slowly out of the theater, her chest still flushed.

"Good shit!" Fuuma called, loudly. "Keep going!" The lines continued, and in the audience Arashi was already thinking ahead, to when Maudie and Colonel Young had to say their last goodbye. Obviously she'd have to perform being in love with Sorata again, and she could do it, but what if something was different? What if people could tell what had happened between them? She swallowed, her heart pounding violently against her ribs. On stage, Karen and Kanoe took their exit, leaving Subaru and Sorata alone on stage. Although Sorata hadn't tried to talk to her, she knew he was worried about her, and she felt weirdly grateful for his concern despite not wanting him to be concerned in the first place.

"Are you okay?" Karen asked, taking the seat beside Arashi and making her jump.

"What? Oh no, I'm fine," she replied, shaking her head, her hair swaying about her. Karen tilted her head to the side.

"Tired?" she asked, sympathetically. Arashi nodded again. Immediately her mind showed her Karen asking a leading question or making some knowing comment and she felt her body tense in preparation, but all Karen said was,

"Me too."

"Nothing ever works out the way you want it to, does it?" Subaru asked Sorata, ironically. "I never wanted to be headmaster, but here I am, which means I'm stuck here. I'll never get back to New York."

"Thank you for everything, seriously," said Sorata in a constricted voice. Arashi got up to take her mark as Subaru cried,

"Where's Maudie?" and wiped his eyes.

"I have no idea what else to say, I used up all my philosophy, I guess," said Sorata.

"Hm," muttered Seishiro.

"I've gotta go," Sorata said, though he made no effort to actually get going. "What if hard work were always supplemented by education? And education by hard work?" he tried, but then laughed defeatedly. "Fuck, I gotta go." However, at that moment, Arashi entered from downstage left, and Sorata's entire aspect was suddenly heavy with sadness. "I wanted to say goodbye," he said, his voice still constricted. Arashi kept her eyes fixed upon his handsome face, his expression so genuine even under the stage lights. Subaru drew away, and Sorata whispered, "Are you okay?" so quietly that she could barely hear it. However, the words seemed to unblock her somehow, and with the tiniest of nods, she kissed him full on the lips.

"Oh," said Seishiro, and a satisfied smile spread across Fuuma's face, while in the lighting booth Satsuki opened a metal drawer, took out a new pen and slammed it shut with undue force.

The rest of the act was a blur after that, so in no time Kusanagi was telling Subaru, Karen and Arashi what had happened to Transeau. Fuuma was very pleased with the lighting and made no further comment as Subaru delivered his last line and the whole theater went black.

"Awesome!" Fuuma called through the darkness. "Take fifteen and then let's run Acts Two and Three again, please!" Satsuki brought up the lights, and Fuuma turned expectantly to Seishiro.

"Good," he said, simply, and Fuuma could tell he meant it. "I think I've seen my fill for now, though." Fuuma had expected this, but,

"Until opening night, right?" Seishiro stared back at him for a moment, his head tilted slightly to the side and eyes catching the house lights.

"Most likely." Fuuma smiled.

"I'll see you at home, then?"

"Most likely."

"Most likely," Fuuma repeated in a mocking tone. Seishiro rolled his eyes, but then got to his feet and gathered his things. He left without saying goodbye to anyone except Kusanagi and Satsuki. Fuuma thought about walking him out, but knew ultimately that was stupid. He turned instead to Nataku, looking like the ignored older sibling of a problematic child. "Will you please get me more coffee?" Nataku sighed softly, but obliged, and Fuuma stretched luxuriously in his seat.

They wrapped up at almost exactly 10 pm, and Fuuma sent them all on their way. He didn't want to hang around, eager as he was to get back to Seishiro, but, "You need help closing up?" he asked Nataku.

"No thank you," he replied, coldly, and Fuuma just rolled his eyes and exited through the lobby. However, he ran into Satsuki waiting by the bar, looking haughty and impatient.

"You trying to sneak away too?" Fuuma asked her.

"Yes, but I ran into you anyway. Plan ruined."

"Sorry." Fuuma hung his head, and the corner of Satsuki's mouth twitched as she shifted her bag to her other shoulder. Her chest constricted suddenly, squeezing her heart up into her throat and down into her stomach. Did Fuuma know she was waiting for Yuuto and Kanoe? He couldn't, but either way she didn't want to talk to him about anything. A moment's silence passed. "You've been fucking great this week," Fuuma told her, smiling, and with that, he left the lobby and was immediately swallowed by the pitch darkness.

Satsuki just watched him go, her chest still constricted. She remembered suddenly that Fuuma had also… She shuddered, suddenly hating his praise. Even though she knew in the rational part of her brain that the two had nothing to do with each other, she felt her skin crawl at the very idea.

'Whatever, let him go fuck Seishiro,' she thought, spitefully. She leaned against the bar, her bag's strap cutting into her shoulder and making the pain in her upper back worse.

In the dressing room, Sorata hung up his costume in silence while his castmates' wound up energy and conversation swirled around him. Now he was off stage, Arashi and all the questions she posed were free to fill his head. Although she'd told him she was all right, he still felt unsure. He pulled on his jeans and t-shirt and made to leave the dressing room, but, "Sorata, hold up a second?" Kamui called across the room. Sorata paused as Kamui told Subaru, "You go ahead." Subaru gave his hand a squeeze and headed out the door with Keiichi, both of them brofisting Sorata as they passed.

"What's up?" he asked as Kamui approached, but he just shook his head and gave the tiniest nod to Kusanagi, Yuuto and Kakyo, who were still getting dressed. Sorata hastily started talking about something random until the other three wished them goodnight and left. Once the door shut behind them, Kamui faced Sorata.

"Did I dream you coming into my room and-"

"No," Sorata forestalled him, feeling suddenly hot around the ears. "No, that definitely happened. Sorry to wake you up."

"Pfft, I don't care." Sorata laughed. "Everything's good though?" Kamui asked next, his tone either playfully leading or checking in, depending on how you were listening.

"Yeah definitely," he replied, grateful Kamui hadn't asked with whom he'd been fooling around, though he supposed it was obvious.

"Cool," Kamui replied with a shrug, then a wide smile spread across his face. "I wanna throw an End of Tech party Sunday night. Yuzuriha and Keiichi are cool with it as long as you and Arashi are too." Sorata's heart skipped at the words.

You and Arashi. You and Arashi. You and Arashi, before it occurred to him that they lived in the dorm too and therefore asking the before throwing a party was just common courtesy. 'He's not trying to say nothing, relax.'

"I'll ask her about it tomorrow," said Kamui. "She seems like she doesn't wanna be bothered tonight."

"What? Oh yeah, sorry, I'm totally down," Sorata replied, hurriedly, heat creeping up his neck. "Splitting bottles of wine after rehearsal ain't cutting it."

"That's what I'm saying!" Kamui exclaimed, clapping him on the shoulder. Sorata couldn't help but laugh, and they left the dressing room together.

"They're gone," Yuzuriha told Arashi over her shoulder. Arashi flushed, but nodded. She knew it was stupid to avoid Sorata, especially when they were going to the same place anyway, but it made her feel better in the short term.

"Sorry about this," she said, but Yuzuriha waved the words aside.

"I totally understand, don't worry."

"I'm glad someone does," replied Arashi, without meaning to, and her blush deepened. When had she completely lost the ability to control her words? Yuzuriha giggled, but then her expression saddened.

"It's all still new," she reminded Arashi. "Just let the feelings settle for a second, you know?" Arashi raised her eyebrows. It seemed impossible that her feelings would ever settle for longer than a few seconds now she was off stage, but at that moment she was way too tired to argue the point. "It will, don't worry," Yuzuriha persisted, her eyes shining earnestly. Arashi just ran her fingers through her hair.

"I hope so." Yuzuriha smiled encouragingly.

"Let's get out of here, shall we?"

"Mm."

They picked up their bags, shut off the lights in the dressing room and proceeded down the dark hallway. Backstage, they ran into Nataku, who was organizing all of the props. "Will you be here much longer?" Yuzuriha asked him. He fixed them with his usual deadpan stare, looking as suspicious as he always did whenever she, or indeed anyone besides Fuuma, Hokuto, Satsuki or Kusanagi tried to make conversation with him.

"Yes, I've still got some things to take care of," he replied. Yuzuriha smiled but didn't receive one in return. However, it didn't bother her, and she thought for a moment of telling him to make sure he got enough sleep too, though she was pretty sure he wouldn't appreciate it. Instead, she said,

"See you tomorrow!" And she and Arashi headed back out through the now empty theater and into the lobby. They expected it to be empty too, but they found Satsuki, Yuuto and Kanoe deep in conversation, though they stopped abruptly when they realized they were no longer alone. "Don't mind us, we're just leaving!" Yuzuriha called, hurriedly, smiling and waving over her shoulder as she led Arashi out the door, which swung shut behind them on a waft of summer air.

Satsuki's jaw clenched as the pain in her upper back throbbed yet again. "So Sunday night will work!" Yuuto said, cajolingly, and Kanoe squeezed his upper arm and kissed him on the cheek. Satsuki managed not to roll her eyes, but it was a close thing.

"Yeah," she said, wrenching her teeth apart. "Anyway I'm fucking exhausted, I'll see you both tomorrow." Without waiting for a reply, she left the lobby, the warmth jarring after so long in the air conditioning. Her throat constricted as she crunched around the parking lot to where she'd chained up her bike. Her mind was full of Yuzuriha's smile, of Kanoe's satisfaction, Arashi's awkwardness and of Yuuto's… Of Yuuto. She shook her head, wanting desperately to clear it, but knowing that wouldn't be possible until she was at home, doped up on the weed Kusanagi had given her.

Chapter Text

"Off to more shmooz hell?" Fuuma asked, playfully, rolling over into his side in bed. Seishiro kept his back to him as he selected a tie and looped it around his neck.

"Brunch," he replied, coldly, without turning around, and Fuuma's playfulness evaporated to be replaced by a flood of frustration. Over the course of the week, Seishiro had withdrawn and become even stiffer and less communicative than usual, so that by the time Fuuma came home from rehearsal the night before, he barely said anything. Aside from a snarky comment about the porch screens still not being fixed. Despite his increasing frustration, Fuuma hadn't said anything, because Seishiro was just like that sometimes and being up here for an extended period didn't help and asking him directly what was wrong was a waste of time anyway. However, it was unusual that cigarettes and orgasms didn't soften him up at all, and though Fuuma usually would have just left him to his own devices, with the last day of tech and a dinner party looming ahead of him, he wanted them to be at least somewhat on the same page.

"I'll pick you up here before we go to Yuuto and Kanoe hell?" Fuuma offered. Seishiro finally turned to face him, and though his mouth twitched promisingly, when he spoke he sounded rather menacing.

"That makes the most sense." He made to turn away again, but Fuuma caught him by the wrist, brought his hand to his lips and kissed it. Seishiro tilted his head to the side.

"I'll see you later then," Fuuma said, quietly. Seishiro nodded and left the room. Fuuma waited until he heard his car pull out of the driveway before getting out of bed.

He strode down the carpeted hallway, dark and gloomy as always despite the sunlight pouring in through all the bedroom windows. He found himself in a little square of light just outside the door of Setsuka's room, and paused to look inside. It was as tidy and organized as the rest of the house, but… Fuuma shivered. He wasn't sure if it was the lack of circulation, the extra thick dust or the weird energy that seemed to permeate the room, but the air seemed denser, heavier. As he stared about and smelled the dust, he wondered, actually wondered rather than thought about it in some disconnected, abstract way, how Setsuka would feel about his work.

It had come up among board and company members, naturally, and though he'd heard "Setsuka would have adored this!" and "oh this is like our most famous Macbeth!" and "you're like the second coming of that director!" so many times, he wasn't sure if it was true or if he believed it or even if he cared. However, there were times when Seishiro had brought it up, when he was coming down and too far gone and delirious to really know what he was saying. Then Fuuma listened. "My mother would have loved you. Maybe if she'd met you she wouldn't have been so disappointed in me!" Fuuma still had no idea what to make of that, especially when he didn't know if Seishiro were talking about him as a director or as a lover. Not that his director self and his lover self were that different, but he still trusted Seishiro knew the difference.

Another shiver ran down Fuuma's spine, but he shook himself and headed into the bathroom. His brain shifted gears abruptly and he remembered meeting other people's parents in highschool. Every parent, whether they'd known him ten years or ten seconds, seemed to have reservations about him spending time with their child, until he was polite and made a joke at his own expense. "I can sit still now. Sort of," was his favorite. However, he doubted someone like Setsuka would relax and laugh indulgently like those parents had. From what he knew about her, she would have seen right through it. Indeed, she probably would have seen through all those people.

Fuuma undressed and stepped into the shower, his mind changing lanes. He didn't speak to anyone from the world he'd escaped anymore and no one had tried to follow him. However, he was curious from time to time if anyone knew what he did and, if so, what they said about it. Not that he actually cared, but it was interesting to imagine his old schoolmates all grown up, married to each other and having the same conversations at the same cocktail parties their parents had, filling roles as their previous occupants became unable. Sometimes he thought Seishiro would have done better in that scripted, conventional world, but no, not when someone like Setsuka was your mother.

Fuuma finished his shower, got dressed and picked up coffee in town on the way to rehearsal rather than make it himself. It was clear immediately upon his arrival that it was the last day of tech. Everyone, including himself, was distracted and, for better or worse, rehearsal flew by because of it.

"Are we gonna do curtain call stuff today?" asked Nataku, after Subaru delivered his ending line and the theater went black for the last time. He'd been far less surly since Seishiro had stopped coming to rehearsals, though he'd still stuck closer to Fuuma than was strictly necessary.

"Nah, it seems like everyone's got places to be tonight," Fuuma muttered, running his fingers through his hair.

"Hm," muttered Nataku.

The lights came back on, revealing the cast looking at Fuuma expectantly. He got to his feet and hitched a satisfied smile back onto his face. "How's everybody feeling? Good?"

"That's rather a loaded question," Yuuto replied.

"I know, I know, I'm sorry," said Fuuma, hanging his head. "You've all done fucking fantastic though, seriously, I really appreciate it." His cast smiled tight smiles, and Fuuma wondered if they believed him. He wouldn't have. "Do I still sound sarcastic when expressing positivity?" was another of his favorite self-deprecating comments. 'Whatever, at least I mean it when I say it,' he thought, which really ought to be enough. "Anyway, go blow off steam and enjoy your day off tomorrow, all right?"

"All right!" Keiichi exclaimed, punching the air and causing an outpouring of giggles. Fuuma felt another rush of affection coupled with an intense desire to be out of the theater immediately.

"Yeah yeah, get the fuck out of here." There were more giggles and chatter as everyone scrambled backstage to get out of costume. Fuuma seized his bag and dug out his cellphone to text Seishiro.

"Getting ready for your dinner party?" Nataku asked, delicately.

"Getting ready? I've been ready," Fuuma replied, throwing his bag over his shoulder. "You wanna come? There's always room."

"We all know that's true," Nataku muttered, coldly, and Fuuma snorted. "But in all seriousness, I'd rather-"

"I know, I know," Fuuma assured him, pacifingly. "I'd never subject you to that, I value our relationship too much." Nataku rolled his eyes, but said nothing, clutching his script and pens to his chest as they set off together. "Do you have any plans for tonight?"

"I was thinking of going to the prop warehouse and doing more inventory. I've got this whole backlog of work and it's driving me crazy." Fuuma stopped dead in his tracks, and Nataku continued a few paces before realizing it. He did an incredulous about face, and Fuuma's heart swelled as he saw distinctly Nataku as a kid, wide eyed in fearful challenge. "What?" he asked, shifting the folders in his arms. Fuuma's smile widened.

"If the Board let you take over all the behind the scenes stuff and gave you all the control and decision making power you deserve, this place would be inway better shape." Nataku narrowed his eyes and two vertical grooves appeared between his eyebrows from the uncharacteristic expressiveness of the gesture. "I'm serious," Fuuma persisted, closing the gap between them. "They could do that, or just let you take Seishiro's place." Nataku's frown lines deepened. "Anyone who's worked with you knows you're the best stage manager you could ask for. They'd fucking do well to keep you around." Nataku said nothing, but again Fuuma saw him as a kid, trying not to look too pleased with himself. "Unless you wanna come with me when I leave, that is." Something tightened in Nataku's expression, freezing any pleasure or excitement. "For real though," Fuuma continued, taken aback, but,

"I'll see you Tuesday." Nataku did another about face and left the lobby, the door swinging shut behind him with a clatter.

'Weird,' Fuuma thought, watching him through the glass. 'Whatever, not my problem.'

"So what time is all of this getting started?" asked Sorata, back in the dressing room.

"I dunno, in a few hours," Kamui replied, breezily, playfully throwing punches at Kusanagi, who caught them lazily in his right palm. "You can come if you want," he added to him, but Kusanagi laughed and shook his head.

"I'm conserving all my party energy for all the events around opening night."

"Yeah I feel that," replied Kamui, though he knew a pang in his chest for Yuzuriha.

"I wish I could go," Yuuto called from across the room.

"You'd rather come to some ratchet house party than your nice dinner?" Keiichi asked, politely incredulous.

"You know what, sometimes a ratchet house party is just what you need," Yuuto replied. Underneath his dignified tone, however, was an intense smugness at his plans for later on that evening. It had been a long time since he and Kanoe had had a third. Plus it was Satsuki, who was especially fun in these situations: her intense passion and desire under her cold exterior was always such a delicious surprise, and she knew how to make his toes curl… Yuuto swallowed and banished the thoughts to the back of his mind. Satsuki was fun, but that had been a lapse. It wouldn't happen again. She could be their third, though, that was allowed.

"Well don't make other plans next time!" Keiichi reproached, and Yuuto turned away to hide his flush.

"I won't!"

"Do you wanna get dinner before this party, Arashi?" Yuzuriha asked as she did up her shorts.

"Yes please," replied Arashi, with a small smile. The two of them had spent the last few nights hanging out away from their dorm, either in town or at the other dorm with Hokuto, Karen and Kakyo. At first it had simply been a means of avoiding Sorata (not that he'd bothered her; they'd remained entirely civil to each other and he hadn't pushed her one way or the other) but she'd come to really appreciate Yuzuriha's company.

"Cool. Karen, you want in?"

"That's sweet of you!" Yuzuriha rolled her eyes.

"Don't act like it's charity!" Karen laughed and waved the words aside.

"I know, I know. Sure, I'd love to."

"Yay! Kanoe I'd invite you too, but I figure you have to go set up for your party?"

"You figured correctly, honey, but I appreciate that," she replied, smiling at her.

"Next time then!" cried Yuzuriha, clapping her hands together. She then seized Karen and Arashi by the elbows and dragged them back outside.

Despite telling himself that Nataku had some issue that wasn't his problem, Fuuma found himself reliving their conversation his entire drive home. What had made him turn so cold so quickly? And why? Fuuma didn't get it, which bothered him far more than Nataku being upset. Usually when Fuuma did something to piss Nataku off, he would tell him so explicitly. Fuuma's music changed, shifting to a loud opening note from an electric guitar. He turned up the volume. First Seishiro, then Nataku. What was wrong with today?

Fuuma sped up, winding through the mountains and carefully avoiding people on racing bikes in lurid spandex outfits. 'Whatever, maybe they'll both chill out with some time off,' he thought, as the song swelled to its chorus. You're poison running though my veins, you're poison… I don't wanna break these chains…

Fuuma snorted, and a short time later he pulled into the driveway, trying and failing to get his wits about him. He'd expected to see Seishiro on the porch or in the kitchen, but both were empty. He shivered. "Seishiro?" No answer. He kicked off his shoes, the tile cool under his bare feet. "Honey, I'm home!" he tried next. Still no answer. His annoyance at both Seishiro and Nataku began to itch more insistently. "Where are you?" Fuuma muttered, tramping through the living room and catching sight of the photo of Setsuka and Seishiro on the mantelpiece. He stomped up the stairs, and was about to call out again when he got to the top, but paused. The bedroom door was ajar, and Seishiro's bored voice was issuing from it, clearly in the middle of a phone call. "And I'm a fucking dipshit," Fuuma sighed, impatiently, stomping down the hall.

Seishiro was at the desk where he'd set up his laptop, his cellphone pressed to his ear and a look of distracted contempt on his face. He gave Fuuma a limp wave over his shoulder, and Fuuma smiled affectionately and flopped backwards onto the bed. He closed his eyes and stretched, yawning with his entire body. It felt so good to lie down, but it seemed that as his body relaxed his mind sped up, releasing a slew of thoughts and images he couldn't even begin to make sense of. He saw clearly his altercation with Nataku, Kusanagi's frustration, whatever the fuck was going on with Arashi and Sorata, Karen and Keiichi's back and forth, Kakyo and Hokuto ignoring feelings and Subaru and Kamui doing the exact adorable opposite, Satsuki's anger towards him and Yuuto and Kanoe…

"Yes, let me know when it's done. All right, thank you. Goodbye." Fuuma opened his eyes blearily, his brain feeling like a wrung sponge, and patted the bed beside him, his hand feeling rather heavy. Seishiro put his phone back on the desk and closed his eyes for a moment as though gathering resolve. "We don't have time," he sighed. Fuuma snorted.

"To what, relax for ten minutes?" Seishiro rolled his eyes and Fuuma tilted his head to the side. "Today suck?" he offered. Seishiro just stared back impassively, still not moving, and Fuuma knew a stab of impatience. "You wanna go shower?" he offered instead. A moment's silence passed.

"You go," Seishiro said. Another pause, but Fuuma didn't have the energy or time to argue. He heaved himself off the bed and planted a kiss on the top of Seishiro's head before heading back down that hall.

Kamui carefully removed the large metal bowl from the fridge and stared into it with an intensity that suggested he could prevent the contents from spilling by sheer force of will.

"Dude, relax, it's not that serious," said Sorata, grinning over his slice of pizza.

"I'll let you tell Yuzuriha you spilled it, then," Kamui replied in sarcastic cheerfulness. He set the bowl on the counter and peeled back the plastic wrap covering it. A powerful smell of alcohol and citrus filled the room and Kamui smiled in satisfaction.

"Holy shit," Sorata said, in wonderment, coming over to investigate. "What's even in that?"

"I can't tell you," Kamui answered, regretfully but seriously. "Yuzuriha's rule is you can't know until you've had some." Sorata snorted, but contented himself with taking another bite of the less than satisfying pizza.

"I miss dollar pizza," he said, ruefully, swallowing.

"God, me too," Kamui agreed, setting up stacks of solo cups next to the punch bowl. "And places being open late."

"And not needing a car."

"Yeah. It was sort of cool being up here at first but now it's like the last two weeks of summer camp."

"Yo for real," replied Sorata.

"And I fucking hated summer camp." Sorata burst out laughing and accidentally swallowed his bite of pizza the wrong way. "Yo, be easy!" Kamui cried, grinning and thumping him on the back.

"I didn't realize this was going to be that type of party," Keiichi exclaimed as he descended the stairs. Sorata straightened up, his eyes streaming.

"The fuck kind of parties you go to?!" he choked. Kamui snorted and took a slice of pizza for himself while Keiichi waggled his eyebrows before following suit.

"Keiichi's on some next shit," Kamui said, sagely. However, Keiichi nodded earnestly.

"It's true! All in the name of inspiration though. Have you read Sandman?" There was a sudden loud knocking on the front door and Kamui rushed off to let Subaru, Hokuto and Kakyo in.

"No, what is that?" Sorata asked. Keiichi's eyes widened.

"Oh it's this comic, it's so good! I can tell you more later, but there's this waitress character and everyone's like, 'oh wow you're so friendly and talkative, you must really love your job!' but inside she holds everyone in total contempt and is like, 'hardly, I'm just observing and gathering material for all the novels I plan to write.' I feel like that a lot."

"Right…"

"And in her story, she'll make him happy!" said Hokuto, grinning. Keiichi beamed at her.

"I should have known you'd like that series!"

"Naturally, Subaru and I cosplayed Death and Dream to New York ComicCon way too many times," said Hokuto, placing the six packs and bottles of liquor she'd brought onto the counter.

"You would," Kamui cried, throwing an arm around Subaru's waist and pulling him close.

"Yeah, fits us better than Sokka and Katara," Subaru replied, wearily, though he was clearly pleased.

"What about Lelouch and Nunnally?" countered Keiichi.

"Suzaku was always my boy," replied Subaru composedly.

"You would," said Kamui again. "I dressed up as Lelouch once for Halloween though, people say we look alike." Subaru gazed at him critically for a moment.

"I could see it."

"So this is a comic?" Kakyo asked Hokuto, quietly, under the cover of the other conversation.

"Yes! But that line, 'and in her story, she'll make him happy,' Camellia used to say that all the time," Hokuto explained, before adding, cuttingly, "which is hilarious given how Yoru ended."

"That ending wasn't unhappy," Keiichi interjected, fairly. Subaru and Hokuto exchanged a look while Sorata and Kamui watched Keiichi interestedly. "No no, hear me out! The protagonist has already been through so much, right? But he keeps going, keeps looking for something to hope for. Personally I think that's brave."

"Bravery, delusion, it can be a fine line," Subaru said, and everyone laughed, even Keiichi.

"See that's totally fair too!"

"Mm, did Fuuma say anything about that?" Subaru asked Hokuto, who just shrugged.

"I'm sure he did and I just can't remember. Honestly though it was probably just," she put on her best imitation of Fuuma's most enigmatic tone, "people will see what they wanna see." Everyone burst into gales of laughter, stopping only when Yuzuriha, Arashi and Karen arrived.

"You guys didn't start without us, right?" Yuzuriha demanded, her hands on her hips as she glared suspiciously into the room. Kamui held up the arm that wasn't still wrapped around Subaru in mock surrender.

"I made sure!"

"Good, I'd hope so!" She pulled Arashi and Karen up to the punch bowl. "Now remember, the first rule of punch is-"

"Don't talk about punch?" Sorata offered.

"You're better than that," Yuzuriha snorted, filling up a solo cup and thrusting it at him. He took it with a smile, but his eyes narrowed when he saw it was only half full.

"That's all I get?"

"Sorata can take a lot," Kamui muttered.

"Because you would know," he shot back, grinning, and Kamui stuck out his tongue and helped Yuzuriha serve everyone else punch.

"I didn't know it was that type of party," Keiichi said again, amid more laughter.

"To that point!" Yuzuriha said. "The number one most important rule of punch: DON'T CHUG IT!"

"I'm having flashbacks to cast parties ten years ago," Karen said, dryly, accepting a cup from Kamui.

"I'm so sorry," he said, but she just laughed.

"Oh please, I'm thrilled to be here rather than the only single person at a dinner party." Kamui looked horrified at the very idea and returned to Subaru's side at once.

"You mean Yuuto and Kanoe's party?" Kakyo asked under his breath.

"Mmhmm."

"Rigt…" Yuzuriha and Kamui raised their cups.

"To being done with tech!" Yuzuriha cried. "Opening night cannot come fast enough!" Their castmates cheered.

"No one's gonna touch that?" Kamui asked, grinning. "All right then, let's get drunk!" Everyone took hearty swigs of their punch, then cried out in horror and outrage.

"Holy shit that goes down hard!" Sorata gasped, staring almost fearfully at his solo cup.

"Just like you like it, right?" Kamui asked, grinning.

"Because you would know!" Sorata shot back, shoving him playfully.

"It's definitely that type of party," muttered Keiichi.

"Hey, long time no see!" Yuuto exclaimed, clasping hands with Mr. Aoki over his threshold. "How are you?" He kissed Mrs. Aoki on the cheek before stepping aside to let them both in.

"Very well, thank you!" Mr. Aoki replied, smiling widely.

"Kanoe's just about done cooking, if you'd like drinks?" Mrs. Aoki held up two wine bottles wrapped in gauzy fabric.

"We couldn't decide between red and white, so we brought both."

"Oh my god you're the best!" Yuuto cried, opening his arms graciously. "Come in, come in!" He took the bottles from her and led them into the kitchen, where Kanoe was standing sentinel by the oven, eyes narrowed at the meat and vegetables sizzling within. However, she looked around when her husband and guests entered the room.

"Hello!" she exclaimed, kissing both Aokis on the cheek. "How are you? Good to see you!"

"You as well," Mrs. Aoki replied as Yuuto set the bottles of wine on the counter.

"Ooh and now I'm really happy to see you!" Kanoe laughed. "Honey do you want to take the salad into the dining room while I pour drinks?"

"Certainly!" Yuuto kissed Kanoe on the lips, picked up the large wooden salad bowl from the counter and carried it into the dining room.

"Shouldn't we wait for Fuuma and Seishiro?" Mr. Aoki asked, but Kanoe just rolled her eyes and unwrapped the bottles of wine.

"They should have been here on time. What does Fuuma say ad nauseum? That's their problem?" A loud burst of Yuuto's laughter echoed from the other room while Mr. and Mrs. Aoki chuckled appreciatively. "Oh, riesling?"

"It's from The Finger Lakes," said Mr. Aoki. "I've never had it before but I assumed it was a safe bet."

"We get it, keep it East Coast," his wife added, placing an affectionate hand on his lower back.

"And a syrah!" Kanoe exclaimed, unwrapping the other bottle. "You have excellent taste."

"Here's hoping," Mrs. Aoki replied. From the dining room, soft jazz music began to play and Yuuto reappeared in the doorway. As he watched his gorgeous wife pour their guests wine in their newly renovated kitchen full of the delicious smell of dinner with supplies for their second engagement waiting upstairs, he couldn't help but feel pleased with himself.

"Oh shit we probably should have brought wine or something, right?" Fuuma asked, steering the car carefully around a winding road overlooking the lush green valley below. The rosey gold of the sunset seemed to catch every leaf on every tree, illuminating the entire view beautifully. "Bad guests!"

"You're bringing me, aren't you? That's enough to keep them satisfied," said Seishiro dispassionately from the passenger's seat. He'd perked up a bit on the drive over, probably just to prepare for an evening of being social, but was still surly.

"True," replied Fuuma, "when you get sick of it just say so and we'll be out," he added on a more serious note.

"That's sweet of you." Fuuma flashed Seishiro a brief, winning smile before turning left onto the even smaller road that led up to Yuuto and Kanoe's house. He wondered what the rest of his cast was up to, if the party Kamui and Yuzuriha had been discussing incessantly was already underway. He couldn't help but feel a little jealous; that party would be way more fun, not to mention way easier to navigate. This party would be like those he got dragged to by his parents, except he couldn't abscond with a bottle of liquor and hide out with the other people his age. Eyeing Seishiro's profile on the edge of his vision, Fuuma imagined him in that position. Would he have done the same thing or just gone off by himself? There was no way he'd just stand around and let himself get interrogated by the adults.

A sudden rush of solidarity seemed to flow between them, and Fuuma took his hand off the gearshift to give Seishiro's thigh a quick squeeze before slowly guiding the car into Yuuto and Kanoe's driveway. He hadn't been here since last year, for In Your Silience's cast party even though celebrating was the last thing he'd felt like doing. He shut off the engine and faced Seishiro. "Ready?" Seishiro just rolled his eyes and unbuckled his seatbelt. However, before he could go anywhere, Fuuma caught him by the chin and kissed him on the lips. Seishiro kept his eyes closed for an extra second after Fuuma pulled away, and he smiled, more solidarity flooding the millimeter of space between them. "Let's go," he breathed, and they got out of the car and proceeded up to the front door. Seishiro stuck close to Fuuma, but put on a brave face as he rapped on the door. Laughter approached from within as though carried on high heels.

"Hello!" Kanoe exclaimed, pulling the door open and gazing thrilled at the pair of them.

"What's up?" Fuuma asked, kissing her on the cheek.

"I just finished tech and I'm ready to kill my director," she replied, shaking Seishiro's hand.

"Who, Fuuma Monou? Yeah fuck that guy," Fuuma replied. Kanoe rolled her eyes at Seishiro, who just smiled a tight smile.

"Come in, Mr. and Mrs. Aoki brought this really nice wine and dinner's nearly ready. Would you like red or white?"

"Red," said Seishiro, doing his utmost to sound pleasant.

"White," Fuuma said, placing his hand on Seishiro's lower back and following Kanoe into the kitchen where everyone had congregated. Yuuto exclaimed at the sight of them and clasped hands with them both.

"It's been ages! How are you?"

"The night is young, there's no need to be this drunk yet," Fuuma scolded, playfully, before addressing Mr. Aoki while Yuuto pulled a face of mock outrage. "Now you I actually haven't seen in a minute, how the hell are you?" They shook hands.

"Great! Working from home and spending time with my daughter, what could be better?" Fuuma smiled appreciatively. "This is my wife," he added, gently nudging her forward, and she smiled and shook Fuuma's hand too.

"Nice to finally meet you," he told her, kissing her on the cheek. "I know I missed you at that last party, I'm sorry." He could feel Seishiro's eyes on the back of his neck.

"I was very disappointed," Mrs. Aoki replied, sarcastically, and Fuuma snorted with laughter and immediate solidarity before getting them off the subject.

"These are new," he said, nodding at the countertops.

"They are! We had them installed in the winter," Yuuto said, proudly.

"Kusanagi did it," interjected Kanoe, handing Fuuma and Seishiro glasses of wine of which they immediately took grateful sips. "Kusanagi did a lot of construction at Setsuka's house too, right? You know how good a job he does."

"His father did," Seishiro replied. "Before he got sick, that is."

"Didn't I hear something about dinner almost being ready?" Fuuma asked, loudly, and Kanoe rolled her eyes.

"Yes yes, all of you get out of my way." Yuuto laughed heartily and led his guests into the living room.

"I'm tapping out," said Subaru, setting his half full cup of punch on the kitchen counter, his face glowing.

"Ha ha! No pressure!" Yuzuriha assured him. Music suddenly blared from the living room. "Oh I love this song!" she cried, downing the rest of her own punch and refilling her cup.

"I got you!" Kamui called to her as he reentered the room.

"You two are so sweet," said Subaru, grinning affectionately. Both of them stuck out their tongues, then dissolved into laughter.

"I get why you call this Death Punch," Sorata said, giving his own cup a look of grudging respect. "Because it tastes like literal death-" Everyone in the vicinity snorted and Yuzuriha and Kamui high fived. Sorata grinned, and actually caught Arashi's eye across the room. She smiled over the rim of her solo cup, and he couldn't help but feel pleased. "Yeah, but why Bad Decision Punch?"

"That's not self-explanatory?" Hokuto asked, raising an eyebrow.

"No, that's a fair question!" piped up Keiichi, and all eyes were suddenly upon him. "It seems possible, if not likely, that you'll make more bad decisions while drinking it, but it could be that drinking it in and of itself is a bad decision!"

"Always with the philosophy," laughed Karen, while Kakyo asked, under his breath,

"Don't those come to the same thing?" He'd been genuinely curious, but she burst out laughing and clapped him hard on the shoulder. The punch had kindled a warm, confident fire in his belly, and the gesture stoked it. He repeated the question to the room at large.

"They could both be true!" Yuzuriha conceded over the laughter.

"Why, surely you've never done anything crazy just because of punch!" Keiichi exclaimed in mock disbelief.

"Never!" Yuzuriha cried, clutching her chest with her solo cup free hand, but then added, confidentially, "Kamui though, that's another story."

"Ooh!"

"Oh word? It's like that?" Kamui demanded, though he'd clearly been expecting it.

"Isn't it always?"

"I hate you, Yuzuriha."

"Why, what did you do?" Subaru asked at once.

"Goddamn it," sighed Kamui. "Which story am I telling?"

"Literally anything from our junior year of college," replied Yuzuriha, after a moment's thought. Kamui toasted her, then finished his drink with a resigned grin.

"So junior year was fucking crazy for a whole bunch of reasons," Kamui began. "In like, March, me and Yuzuriha got invited to our friends Akira and Utako's housewarming party, so we're like, great! Let's blow off steam and see friends and have an awesome ratchet night!"

"How do you make a housewarming party ratchet?" demanded Hokuto.

"Listen, any party can be ratchet," Kamui said, his grin widening under his buzz and his audience. "Anyway, Yuzuriha and I made punch for the party, but we also were pregamming with it on the train ride over, because our friends are smart and bought a place at the ass end of Rockaway and fuck the A train."

"Seriously," muttered everyone who had ever lived in New York.

"Yeah so we're already pretty nice when we get there, but it was awesome because we got to see a whole bunch of people we hadn't seen in mad long-"

"Kentaro and Takeshi!" exclaimed Yuzuriha, clapping her hands together.

"Exactly! Friends from freshman year. We all used to live in the same dorm but then they got a place together and abandoned us like assholes. But yeah we see them, they're also already drunk, and Kentaro's immediately like, 'you guys wanna do shots?!' so of course we had to say yes-"

"Oh of course!" Karen exclaimed, laughing.

"Peer pressure's brutal, what can I say?" Kamui replied, shrugging.

"Just say no, kids!" added Keiichi.

"Exactly! Don't be like me. Anyway, we take shots with them then go and be social, eat some food because Akira's an amazing cook-"

"He made edibles too," Yuzuriha reminded him.

"Yeah but only you and Kentaro partook, I was not trying to get that fucked up!" Everyone laughed. "So them two went into space, Takeshi and I were chilling with Akira and Utako, but then fucking Nokoru-"

"Fucking Nokoru!" Sorata agreed among fresh gales of laughter.

"Do you know him?" Arashi asked by accident, spurred on by the punch and the energy. Sorata's heart leapt.

"Nah, but we all have that friend we talk about in that tone, right?"

"Right," Arashi replied, though she had no idea what exactly he meant. However, it didn't bother her at all at the moment.

"Dude, you already know!" Kamui said, grinning at Sorata. "So Nokoru comes up to us like, 'you guys wanna play beer pong?' Fuck yeah we wanna play beer pong! So I team up with Yuzuriha because she's fucking pro. Now this is where things get interesting."

"Oh, now is when things get interesting," laughed Subaru, stepping behind Kamui to get a beer from the fridge.

"Yeah, just wait! So Nokoru ends up getting the entire party into a legit, organized ass tournament because that's the type of shit he does, and me and Yuzuriha fucking dusted the prelims!" He paused so they could brofist each other. "Our heckling is on point."

"Hell yeah it is!"

"So you two aren't actually good, just obnoxiously distracting?" Sorata asked.

"Like Kakyo said, it comes to the same thing!" Kamui shot back, flashing Kakyo a smile and making him blush. "Kentaro and Takeshi gave us a run for our money in the semi-finals, though, I will say that."

"Oh my god I forgot about that!" Yuzuriha cried, running her fingers through her hair.

"We're down to like, two cups each, it's fucking serious," Kamui said, dropping his tone, and everyone moved in closer to listen. "Yuzuriha's lining up her shot, and Kentaro and Takeshi are doing the usual, 'don't fuck up!' 'careful careful!' whatever else, but of course Yuzuriha's ignoring it and they realize it's not working." He paused to take a sip of his drink and to build dramatic tension. "So out of nowhere, Kentaro just grabs Takeshi and they just start making out."

"OH SHIT!"

"HA HA!"

"That's amazing!"

"Is that an unusual occurrence?" Hokuto asked, giggling.

"Uh, not really, given that they'd been together since our freshman year, but Takeshi like, never does PDA so that was pretty shocking! Then of course Yuzuriha's thirsty ass was just there like," Kamui pulled a face, his eyes wide and glassy and mouth hanging open at a strange angle. Yuzuriha cuffed him on the back of the head while their castmates roared with laughter. "Ow! Don't be mad at me because it worked, damn!" Kamui cried, indignantly, rubbing the back of his head before adding, reminiscently, "completely fucked up her shot."

"Yeah, whatever, we still won!" Yuzuriha snapped. "Then we had to take on Nokoru and our friend Suoh."

"Did they make out too?" Keiichi asked.

"Nah," Kamui replied, grinning. "But Nokoru's conniving ass was like," he put on a sarcastically conspiratorial voice, "let's raise the stakes!"

"Oh god," said Subaru, resignedly. Kamui just grinned.

"Yeah, so instead of beer pong we started playing punch pong."

"You guys are stupid," Sorata declared.

"Stupid or living life?" Kamui countered, gesturing dramatically.

"Stupid," Arashi said, emphatically, and she and Sorata exchanged a smile while everyone else laughed.

"Either way! We started playing punch pong, and it was fucking serious, like every single person at the party was watching and cheering us on, so of course we start hardcore fucking with each other, like it was just straight belligerent." He gave Yuzuriha a wide smile to ask her permission to continue, and she stared back at him for a full ten seconds before sighing and nodding to the inevitable. "So it's down to the wire, they have two cups, we have one, and it's Nokoru's turn. He's lining up his shot and Yuzuriha's like, 'hey look!' and just pulls up her shirt and flashes him."

"Yuzuriha!" Karen and Hokuto cried out, dissolving into fits of hysterical laughter.

"Did it work?!" Keiichi asked.

"Of course!" Yuzuriha replied, grinning. "But I think it was shock more than anything!"

"What was it he said?" asked Kamui, and Yuzuriha covered her eyes dramatically and arched her back.

"Even with your consent, I can't!"

"Aww!"

"Yeah Nokoru's great," Kamui said, approvingly. "Suoh and I just kept our eyes averted, but then Nokoru missed his shot, and I gotta give him credit, it was close, but it didn't matter because Yuzuriha and I got our last two shots and it was dope."

"Congratulations!" several people cried, and Yuzuriha and Kamui bowed.

"Is there more?" asked Hokuto, grinning. "I thought this was about you doing crazy shit on punch!"

"Oh there's more!" Kamui assured her. "At that point Nokoru turned off all the lights and put on music and we started dancing. I remember, like…" He squinted and waved his hand vaguely in front of him. "Some of that, but I know it was awesome because the next day I found all these videos of it on my phone that I don't remember taking."

"Well done," Subaru snorted.

"Hey, at least I didn't spin out or get sick! But then the next thing I remember it was like… four in the morning, so hours later, and I was getting into Kentaro's car, and Takeshi was in the fetal position in the back seat and Yuzuriha was there taking care of him. Kentaro had sobered up so he was okay to drive us, but he can still be terrifying behind the wheel when he wants to be."

"God, seriously," muttered Yuzuriha.

"Yeah, so mind you, we're balls deep in Rockaway by the ocean, and we're stopped at a red light. These two randos roll up next to us, start grilling us and revving their engine. I'm like, how hard do you feel picking beef with us, I dunno. Whatever. But then Kentaro fucking revs back and looks at me. The light's about to change and I'm still fucked up so I'm like, 'FLOOR that shit!'" Everyone dissolved into laughter, and Kamui joined in, though not before reminding them, "Yeah it's funny because none of us died!" Subaru just kissed him on the side of the head.

"You guys are stupid," said Sorata, when he'd collected himself. "Who won though?"

"We did!" Kamui replied at once, outraged.

"Yeah, they got destroyed," Yuzuriha put in. "I don't think it was worth feeling like my life was on the line at certain points-"

"You mean the whole time?" Hokuto corrected her.

"We made it home safely!" Kamui said, proudly. "And then I woke up three hours later to go to work, that's when the death really started to set in."

"I'm sure!" Subaru said with a despairing laugh. He and Kamui looked at each other a moment longer, then exchanged a soft kiss on the lips. "You're amazing." Kamui just laughed quietly, and the two of them went to get more drinks.

Kanoe carefully laid her roasting pan full of meat and vegetables onto a cork coaster on her dining table, the last missing piece of her set table puzzle. She took a moment to survey her finished work, embroidered placemats, lit tapered candles, bottles of wine and sparking water and her and Yuuto's wedding china. They'd registered for the china in pieces, so several people had made up the set. She couldn't remember who had given her what now, but it didn't matter given that they only brought it out for special occasions anyway. However, she figured that having Setsuka Sakurazuka's son over for dinner counted as such.

She walked around the table and stood in the doorway to her living room. Fuuma, Yuuto and Mr. Aoki were going back and forth while Seishiro and Mrs. Aoki sat slightly apart, talking quietly together. She cleared her throat. Seishiro looked up, and his polite inquiry reminded her so much of Setsuka. "Dinner's ready," she announced, gesturing her guests toward the dining room. They all got to their feet and followed her. Yuuto took one head of the table while Fuuma took the other.

"This looks wonderful!" Mrs. Aoki exclaimed, smiling warmly at Kanoe. "I hope you didn't go through too much trouble, not after how hard you guys have been working."

"I'm happy to do it," Kanoe replied at once, though her eyes were fixed upon Seishiro, who had hesitated before taking the seat between herself and Fuuma. "I also had Yuuto to help me, so!"

"True, it's one of the few things I'm good for," he said, serving himself salad and passing the bowl to Mr. Aoki. Fuuma refrained from rolling his eyes or making a crude remark by piling his plate with roast potatoes. For a while the conversation was just about how good the food was, but then, the inevitable:

"I'm sure you're sick of getting asked this," Mr. Aoki said apologetically to Seishiro, who sighed and preemptively took a hearty swig of wine, making everyone laugh except Fuuma. "But how's the show? I assumed I'll get a better picture from you-"

"What's that supposed to mean?" interrupted Yuuto in mock outrage, and again everyone laughed except Fuuma, whose eyes were glued to Seishiro.

"Nothing bad," Mr. Aoki assured him. "I just know it's hard to see clearly when you're in the thick of it, so I was curious to hear an outside perspective."

"Fair," muttered Fuuma. Seishiro took his time over another sip of wine before answering.

"Well it's hard to say when all I've seen is tech," he said, slowly. "But I do like what I see."

"That's a ringing endorsement," Kanoe told the table in a stage whisper, and Seishiro took another sip of wine.

"I told you you could always come to rehearsal," Fuuma reminded Mr. Aoki, still smirking.

"Oh no, I'm sure I'd just be a distraction," he protested. "Besides, like I said, I trust you completely. I've always been a huge fan of your work." Fuuma nodded, but said nothing. "I still remember your Macbeth-" Yuuto and Kanoe both flinched. "Sorry! Your Scots Play that you did in Long Island City."

"Oh god me too," said Mrs. Aoki.

"You saw that?" Fuuma asked her, taken aback.

"I did. I'm not trying to kiss your ass, but-"

"No you can, it's cool." Everyone laughed and Mrs. Aoki rolled her eyes, then continued.

"I don't say this lightly, but it was one of the most incredible things I've ever seen."

"Thank you very much," Fuuma said, and he meant it.

"Really though, when Seiichiro found out it was you who'd be directing his show I got so excited!"

"That's really nice of you," Fuuma told her, and he meant that too. "This show won't be quite as tight or intense-"

"It is tight and intense," interrupted Seishiro. Everyone turned to look at him.

"Is it?" Fuuma asked, genuinely curious.

"Yes," Seishiro replied, rather impatiently. "All right, it's not that Macbeth and it's not Yoru, but-"

"What is?" Fuuma offered, tilting his head to the side. Seishiro pressed his lips tightly together for a moment before responding.

"I was going to say it's Chekhov, there's only so tight it can get," he replied, rather coldly. Fuuma's eyes widened, both at Seishiro name dropping a writer like that and at his tone. They stared at each other almost challengingly, but Mrs. Aoki redirected the conversation before it could escalate.

"Would you ever bring that production of Macbeth here?" Fuuma and Seishiro turned and stared at her blankly for a moment, but then Fuuma hitched an ingratiating smile back onto his face and answered.

"I mean I could, but it wouldn't top the last one." He hadn't really intended it as a big important statement, to him it was just true, but the words rippled out through the table and hit everyone slightly differently. Kanoe, Yuuto and Mr. Aoki all exchanged a look of deep reverence, Mrs. Aoki looked curiously between them and a slight spasm crossed Seishiro's face as he stared fixedly at his wine glass.

"I, well it was years ago," said Kanoe. "Probably enough distance, right?" She sounded like a little girl trying to convince her parents she deserved a reward.

"Lady M is your role," Yuuto said, giving her knee an affectionate squeeze under the table.

"It'd be an honor to follow in Setsuka's footsteps like that," she persisted, wistfully but purposefully, looking between Fuuma and Seishiro. "Besides, everyone likes to talk about how similar Fuuma and that director are, now we'd actually have a good point of comparison!" Fuuma could tell she was really just after the role, which he'd never give her.

"Assuming I'm here next summer, maybe." He was still watching Seishiro, who was still watching his wine glass.

"What?!" Kanoe and Yuuto said together. Fuuma just shrugged and drank more wine.

"Something to think about." Silence fell over the table, and for a moment the only sounds were the clinking of knives and forks. Seishiro's jaw was clenched and he was still staring fixedly at his wine glass.

"What made that production so good?" Mrs. Aoki asked, dragging the question up through the thick tension over the table. "That's where that photo in the Igarashi is from, right?"

"Yes!" Kanoe cried, smiling reminiscently. "What really made that one so good was Setsuka as Lady M. She was staggering, even more so than usual! Her mad scene still gives me chills when I think about it. Seishiro was great in it too, of course!"

"What?" Fuuma asked, startled, at the same time that Mrs. Aoki said,

"Oh, I didn't realize you were also a performer!" The entire table shifted its focus back to Seishiro, and it couldn't have been clearer just how untrue that statement was: he seemed to shrink under the many pairs of eyes and drained his wine glass almost defiantly.

"I'm not." Threat was clearly discernible to Fuuma under the polite tone. "The director just asked me to step in, so I did."

"Who'd you play?" Fuuma asked, still totally stunned by this information. Seishiro was always secretive, of course, but usually everything Fuuma would inevitably find out wasn't surprising. This, however, had caught him completely off guard. "The Doctor," Seishiro replied, stroking the stem of his wine glass with his index finger and thumb.

"Oh," Fuuma said, rather lamely, because really what else was there to say? What great insight was he expecting to gain?

"Mm. Never again," Seishiro continued, and though his tone was suddenly playful, there was still the threat just beneath, and though everyone laughed, it was clear that the subject was closed. Fuuma seized his wine glass and drained it, trying to drown the sudden swell of anger and frustration in his belly and chest.

"Never have I ever had sex in public," Kamui said, loudly, from his seat on the couch beside Subaru.

"How public are we talking?" Keiichi asked, intrigued, rubbing his chin.

"Public enough to get you booked for indecent exposure if you got caught," said Kamui. Everyone except Arashi, Kakyo and Hokuto all drank.

"Never have I ever hooked up with my RA," said Yuzuriha. Kamui glared at her for a moment before taking his drink with good grace.

"Junior year was crazy, whatever," he said, shrugging. "She was so hot though, holy fuck," he added, reminiscently, making everyone laugh. "Anyway, never have I ever flashed my opponents in beer pong."

"That's a cheap shot!" Subaru scolded him, but then Yuzuriha cut in, in a mocking voice,

"Never have I ever been named Kamui Shirou!"

"All right, that's enough!" laughed Hokuto. "Never have I ever… taken a body shot!"

"Excuse me? That is 100% something you've done!" Subaru interrupted, indignantly.

"Hence me taking a drink!" Hokuto replied, grinning and toasting him before doing so. He rolled his eyes, but followed suit, along with everyone except Kakyo and Sorata.

"You too?" Kakyo asked, to distract himself from thoughts of Hokuto in that position.

"Is that surprising?" Sorata asked, heat rushing up his neck.

"Apparently," Karen said, winking.

"We should change that!" Keiichi cried, excitedly, and everyone fixed their gaze upon Sorata.

"Let's do it!" he said, brave in his intoxication, standing up and holding up his arms like a boxer stepping into the ring. His castmates cheered. "Who am I taking a shot off of?" The moment he said it he felt his face burn, and out of the corner of his eye he saw Arashi flush too. He determinedly looked away from her. The gesture wasn't lost on Yuzuriha, and she yelled the first name that came into her head before anyone could volunteer Arashi.

"Kamui!"

"What?" Kamui cried, bemusedly.

"If you're cool I'm cool!" Sorata told him, smiling invitingly from across the room.

"Okay sure!"

"Is that all right?" Yuzuriha and Hokuto asked Subaru at the same time. They looked at each other in some surprise before dissolving into fits of laughter and hugging each other. Subaru just looked confused, then sighed and ran his fingers through his hair.

"But seriously, that's…?" Kamui asked, quietly, looking up at him with wide eyes. Subaru's heart swelled in his chest and he kissed him on the lips.

"Of course, why wouldn't it be?"

"I mean, I just didn't wanna cross a line or something, not that we discussed exclusivity, but-"

"Did we need to?" Subaru asked, smiling. Touched, Kamui smiled back and kissed him on the lips. "I mean yes we do, but sober." Kamui nodded, his heart swelling. "Regardless, it's a body shot off of Sorata, do I really need to be worried?" Kamui let out an appreciative burst of laughter and kissed Subaru again.

"Nah."

"Ready when you are, Kamui!" Sorata called, and Subaru and Kamui looked up to find everyone congregated around the kitchen island.

"Sorry!" Grinning, Kamui stripped off his shirt, tossed it carelessly over his shoulder and strode across the room with Subaru in tow. He then hopped up onto the island and lay splayed out on his back. Keiichi wolf whistled as Yuzuriha and Hokuto carefully poured salt onto the smooth skin just below his belly button and tequila onto his breastbone. "That's cold, what the fuck!" he cried, though his indignation was ruined by his giggle.

"Get over it," snapped Yuzuriha, though she was also giggling as she handed him a lime wedge, which he stuck between his teeth. Sorata watched all of this from beside the island, determinedly not looking at Arashi.

"Ready?" he asked. Kamui gave him the thumbs up and everyone cheered. Sorata grinned and bent over Kamui, licking up the salt and making him giggle around the lime wedge. He then drank the tequila off his chest and finally descended upon the lime wedge, biting into the fruit and sucking out the juice. He felt Kamui let go of it, then stood up with it still in his mouth, arms raised in triumph. His castmates cheered, and he bowed graciously. When he straightened up, he finally permitted himself to look at Arashi, and found her chewing her lip. She met his gaze, her heart pounding in her chest. She had no idea what she was feeling except hot all over. Their castmates were all talking about more drinks and different music as Sorata rather clumsily took the lime out of his mouth. However, before either of them could actually say anything to each other, Kamui sat up, spun around and clapped Sorata hard on the shoulder. "Ow, be careful!"

"I love you, Sorata!"

"Fuck off, Kamui!" Arashi giggled. She couldn't help but feel affectionate instead of frustrated as the moment broke.

"Here!" gasped Yuzuriha, appearing suddenly behind her with another drink, and Arashi gave her a wide smile. "Right?" And they fell against each other in a fit of giggles.

"That's encouraging," Kamui muttered to Sorata, his eyes on the girls. Sorata just shoved him off the kitchen island onto the floor.

"Ow!"

"Children!" Keiichi scolded, handing the pair of them more drinks. Subaru stepped forward at once to help Kamui to his feet, then pulled him close.

"I'm sticky, I'm sorry," he said.

"Gross," replied Subaru, kissing him on the lips.

"So what's the rest of the cast up to tonight?" Mrs. Aoki asked as Yuuto poured her more wine.

"Having a big after tech party as I understand it," Kanoe replied, taking a sip from her own glass.

"Ah ha! Good for them!"

"As long as they recover before we get back to work on Tuesday," Yuuto said, dryly.

"As if you're in any position to talk!" scoffed Kanoe. Mrs. Aoki raised her eyebrows at Yuuto over the rim of her wine glass. He sighed as if in defeat.

"True! Well it was years ago-"

"Hey," Fuuma whispered quietly to Seishiro under the cover of Yuuto's inane story about some night of drunken craziness.

"Mm?" Seishiro asked, looking at Fuuma out of the corner of his eye.

"You still good?" Seishiro rolled his eyes and drank more wine in answer.

"Easy," Fuuma said, betraying his frustration. "I get it, but-"

"I'm fine, we've been through this," Seishiro replied, coldly.

"Yeah, well, now it seems like this disease is beyond my practice," Fuuma shot back. Seishiro turned sharply to face him, his lips parted in surprise and eyes narrowed in… Was it disgust or anger? When had Seishiro become so difficult to read? They stared at each other in tense silence a moment longer, then, "Drink some water." And with that, Fuuma excused himself, intensely aware of Seishiro's eyes on the back of his neck as he left the dining room. Everyone else at the table broke off their own conversations and watched him go in surprised silence.

"What's this about him not coming back next summer?" Kanoe asked, the moment he was out of earshot.

"That's the first I've heard of it," Yuuto replied, his brow furrowed. Mr. and Mrs. Aoki looked at each other, then at Yuuto and Kanoe, before all four of them turned to Seishiro, wordlessly demanding an explanation. Seishiro pinched the stem of his wine glass and rubbed it up and down, his lip curling as he surveyed his audience. He allowed the already thick tension to tauten a little more before finally saying,

"I'm not sure, but maybe next year I'll hire a director who doesn't drive everyone fucking crazy." He drank more wine, eyes glittering at the stunned silence. However, Yuuto stepped in before it could spiral too horribly.

"Are you all ready for dessert? We picked up cake from Duklyon, and we've got port or this very nice whiskey!" He flushed and cleared his throat.

"We can take everything outside, it's a beautiful night," Kanoe added, standing up and beginning to collect all the dishes.

"No no, I can take care of this," Yuuto told her, taking the plates from her and kissing her on the cheek. She smiled appreciatively, then muttered in his ear,

"He's only saying that for attention, right?"

"I'm sure he is," Yuuto muttered back with a confident smile. She kissed him on the lips, then crossed the room to get the port and whiskey from the liquor cabinet. Fuuma reappeared in the doorway as Seishiro and Mr. and Mrs. Aoki got to their feet.

"Are we getting thrown out already?" he asked the room, though his eyes were on Seishiro. Kanoe jabbed him playfully in the arm with the end of the whiskey bottle. "Ow!"

"Oh please, we're just going to the porch for dessert."

"Yeah yeah," Fuuma replied, still trying to catch Seishiro's eye. However, Seishiro ignored him and drained his wine glass under the cover of everyone else's laughter.

"You're still all right? Still with me?" Hokuto asked Kakyo, under the cover of the music, which was becoming steadily more ratchet. They were standing alone by the kitchen island while everyone else was in the living room. Keiichi was leading Karen through some actual Latin steps he knew while everyone else was cheering, chatting or dancing on their own. Hokuto gave Kakyo's arm a squeeze and he felt the touch all the way into his chest.

"I feel great," he told her, with a wide smile. His mind felt pleasantly soft, as though someone had smudged all the corners, leaving everything safe and blurry. The stories and energy, which he usually would have found overwhelming, didn't seem to bother him at all. "This is the best I've felt in a long time."

"I'm glad to hear that," she replied, quietly, under the music.

"You are?" Hokuto rolled her eyes.

"Of course! It's great to see!" Kakyo was more than ready to accept the words in his soft, drunken state.

"I've never been to a party like this," he told her, and she grinned.

"Not as crazy as on TV, right?" Kakyo burst out laughing, and he couldn't have said what exactly was so funny, but he did know that this was the most normal he'd ever felt in his life. At a party with colleagues and friends and Hokuto. Was this how other people felt all the time? He stared into Hokuto's face, half lit by the one table lamp turned on. She had allowed him to feel this way, she was the only person ever to have done so. He opened his mouth to say something, but couldn't think what. "What's up?" she asked, but Kakyo just shook his head and took another sip of his drink.

"Nothing, never mind."

The song ended, and Karen gave Keiichi a huge hug while everyone watching cheered. "Teach me to do that!" Hokuto called across the room, and Keiichi went into a gracious half bow and extended his hand. Hokuto looked to Kakyo, who actually laughed.

"Go, I'll be fine," he told her, and it was actually true. Hokuto beamed, set her drink on the counter and stepped forward to take Keiichi's hand. Kakyo followed and joined Sorata, Subaru and Kamui, whose conversation was nearest, while Karen took her drink back from Arashi and brushed her hair out of her eyes, looking and feeling rather windswept.

"That was awesome!" Yuzuriha exclaimed, her eyes very bright.

"It was," Arashi agreed eagerly.

"Do you actually know how to dance like that?" Yuzuriha pressed on.

"Well Keiichi was doing most of the work, I've only ever done social dancing at clubs back in the city years ago."

"But you were so good!" Yuzuriha cried, her eyes huge. "I bet you had people lining up to dance with you!"

"You're sweet," Karen replied, flushing slightly at the memories of salsa nights at clubs in Brooklyn.

"Just observant," Yuzuriha corrected her. "The closest I ever got to like, actual dance and not just being drunk at parties was dating a dancer in college."

"That must have been interesting," Karen said, raising an eyebrow.

"It was great when he wasn't tired from rehearsal or performances," Yuzuriha said, grinning suggestively. "But then there was the other ninety nine percent of the time."

"Ha!"

"Yeah, plus dancers have both artist crazy and athlete crazy, which is just-"

"Crazy?" Arashi offered, and Karen and Yuzuriha fell against each other laughing. Arashi smiled, very pleased with herself. On a sudden swell of bravery brought on by laughter and punch, she said, "I wanted to dance when I was younger, but my aunt didn't like the idea." Yuzuriha and Karen immediately began to protest.

"That's unfair!"

"Really, especially when you're so well proportioned for it!"

"I suppose theater's good too though, plus your career is longer…"

"And you're such a great actress anyway!"

Arashi's eyes widened in surprise and though her stomach twisted at all the sympathy, support and validation, it filled her heart almost to the bursting point. She couldn't remember ever feeling that way before, and all her usual misgivings suddenly didn't bother her as much. She caught Sorata's eye across the room and gave him a smile, which he returned.

"Was your aunt cool with theater, though?" Yuzuriha asked, and Arashi replied with a bitter noise before she could stop herself. However, Karen and Yuzuriha looked more offended on her behalf than ever.

"No?" Karen asked. Arashi shook her head.

"She thought it was a phase." The words were also bitter, but it felt good to say them out loud, particularly when Yuzuriha and Karen rolled their eyes and shook their heads.

"It's only a phase if you aren't talented or don't wanna work hard," Yuzuriha said, derisively.

"Exactly," Karen added, toasting the words.

"I guess that's true of anything, though," Yuzuriha amended, thoughtfully. "Plus it means everyone can get better!"

"You're so optimistic," Arashi laughed. Yuzuriha shrugged and sipped her drink.

"It's just easier that way." However, as she said it she thought of Kusanagi for the first time that night, with whom the exact opposite was true. What was the point of being optimistic there? "I'm going to get another drink," she announced, before she could think about it too much. "Do either of you want anything?"

"No thank you."

"I'm fine." Karen watched her go, then smiled warmly at Arashi. "For what it's worth, I'm glad you ended up in theater."

"Really?" Arashi asked, unable to keep from laughing.

"Really. You're amazing to watch." Even in Arashi's new supportive surroundings and punch induced bravery, she had no idea what to say. "All of Maudie's big scenes? Honey you have all eyes upon you." Arashi blushed so hot she wondered if Karen could feel it.

"Really?" she asked again, simultaneously hopeful and incredulous. Karen gave Arashi's arm a squeeze.

"Absolutely." Arashi's eyes darted once more to Sorata. She watched him toss his head back in laughter at something Subaru said, then eventually turn and catch her eye again. He smiled, and she smiled back. "It's a weird thing, though, going from being invisible to having everyone staring at you," Karen said, gently. Arashi's breath caught in her throat and she stared hard at Karen, not sure where the conversation was going, but the words dropped into her chest like raindrops on a lake, causing tiny ripples of emotion to travel outwards through her body. "Or looking at you for good reasons," Karen continued, still gently.

"My aunt always told me I needed to stand out more," Arashi said, dropping her voice, "but whenever I'd try, it was wrong."

"That's really unfair."

"It is," Arashi agreed, shivering as she said it. "Thank you for saying that!"

"Of course!" Karen cried, and bumped their solo cups together.

Fuuma was over the party.

Out on Yuuto and Kanoe's porch, the darkness and pressure surrounding them made Fuuma feel like he was on a submarine in the abyssal bottom of the ocean, swarms of gnats like marine snow and the feeble overhead lights like flashes of a bioluminescent predator.

Yuuto had his free arm around Kanoe while she had her legs thrown over his thigh, the Aokis sat side by side across from them, thighs touching, and Fuuma and Seishiro sat a foot apart, not looking at each other. He'd texted Camellia 'dinner party hell send help' but she hadn't responded yet, so he sat quietly, sipping his third cup of coffee and taking in maybe ten percent of the conversation around him. Normally Seishiro would have given him the "I'm done let's get the fuck out of here immediately" look by now and Fuuma would have swept in with an excuse so they could make a graceful exit together. Now, though, he was talking contentedly to the other four as they sipped on whiskey, port and coffee like it was the most natural thing in the world.

Yet again, Fuuma remembered the cocktail parties he'd been dragged to by his parents, when he'd first learned how wildly people's words and actions could differ, how people could lie to each other's faces without thinking twice, hurt each other on purpose and feel nothing or by accident and feel everything. "Do you think your upbringing is what got you into this work?" was a question many people would ask him. He'd usually reply with a charismatic smile and a counter. "You trying to shrink me?" or "You think it's that simple?" were his favorites. Two years ago, however, Camellia had asked him the question as they'd shared a cigarette outside the Igarashi, and he'd actually thought about it before giving her an answer.

"Maybe," he replied, shrugging. "Why, does that make sense to you, Tsubaki?" She shrugged too, took a drag from the cigarette and handed it back to him.

"I mean, we both know you don't get into this type of work because you've had an easy time of it, that's not new information." Fuuma wrapped his lips around the cigarette and inhaled, his eyes fixed upon her. "And you didn't grow up with some really fucked up shit happening to you, yeah, but the hypocrisy and bullshit must have had you feeling some type of way." Fuuma burst out laughing. "The way I see it," she continued, tilting her head to the side, "there's no pride in being a survivor of whatever you had to survive in and of itself, but I figure it's better not to waste your suffering." Fuuma nodded, exhaling the smoke through his nose and thinking of Seishiro. "But I feel like for you it didn't have to be theater. You could have become a psychologist or a writer or just took over the world and burned it to fucking ashes-" Fuuma let out another sharp burst of laughter and handed her the cigarette. She grinned and took a drag. "You want my honest opinion?"

"Always."

"I think you like theater because it's not permanent more than anything else."

Fuuma gave a weird involuntary shudder at the memories. He'd always trusted and admired her sincerity and respect, but where the fuck had that come from? It was his second year there, he'd obviously stuck around. He checked his phone, but she still hadn't replied.

Seishiro shifted beside him and gave him an enquiring look. He was clearly drunk and a weird feeling took root in Fuuma's chest. The fact that he hadn't told him about playing the Doctor was like a splinter he couldn't extract. What else had Seishiro not told him? Fuuma never felt that anyone owed him their story: if people wanted to tell him anything, which they very often did, that was their choice and no one else's. Now, however, for the first time in a long time, he felt curious.

"What?" Seishiro asked, rather impatiently. Fuuma couldn't help but smile, seeing clearly the little boy in his mother's arms under the bright spotlight. At the same time, though, his smile didn't reach inside, didn't ease the weird feeling in his chest.

"Nothing," he replied. Before either of them could say anything else, Yuuto's cellphone rang loudly in his pocket, making him and Kanoe jump. She swung her legs off him and he retrieved it with hurried, drunken apologies. His eyes widened when he saw Satsuki's name.

"Sorry, I have to take this," he said, hurriedly, scrambling off the couch and pressing the phone to his ear. "Hello?" he asked, lowering his voice as he stepped over the threshold into the kitchen.

"I've been texting you for the last twenty minutes," Satsuki snapped.

"Sorry, we still have guests over."

"What happened to 10:30?"

"We're assholes, I'm sorry."

"I'm aware. I'm outside your front door but I didn't want to-"

"What?!" Yuuto exclaimed, mortified. "Hold on!" He sprinted to his front door and wrenched it open, revealing Satsuki under the porch light, her jaw clenched and eyes narrowed behind her glasses. She shoved her phone into her pocket, her heart giving an unpleasant throb as she took in Yuuto framed in the doorway, drunk and embarrassed. The hand holding his phone to his ear fell limply to his side.

"I didn't want to ring the bell since you have guests," she said, coldly, her heart throbbing unpleasantly again. Yuuto had the decency to look ashamed.

"I'm sorry," he replied, his stomach curling in on itself as all his earlier smugness gave way to embarassment. Satsuki said nothing. "Do you still want to come in?" he asked, hesitantly, after a moment. Satsuki swallowed her contemptuous snort.

"Sure," she replied, and he shuddered despite her even tone.

"Um," he said, looking very awkwardly over his shoulder.

"I'll just head upstairs?" she offered, and Yuuto nodded.

"Here," he stepped to the side to let her in and shut the door quietly behind her. "We'll be up in a few minutes." Satsuki nodded, but didn't move. They stared at each other, not knowing what they wanted, but aware that he owed her. When he could stand it no longer, he stepped forward and kissed her on the lips. He shuddered in guilt while she shuddered in surprise. "Sorry," he whispered.

"It's okay," she whispered back before she could stop herself. A brief smile crossed Yuuto's face as he stepped backwards to return to his guests. His expression was strange, but Satsuki didn't question it. She turned away and headed upstairs. It was pitch dark, but she remembered where Yuuto and Kanoe's bedroom was.

She toed the door open and turned on the bedside table lamp. The room was suddenly lit by a soft golden glow, and Satsuki crossed her arms in front of her chest as she looked around, taking in the fine furniture, the crisp linens and the hooks in the walls and ceiling painted to blend in, an uncharacteristic display of secrecy about their sex life.

She rolled her eyes and sat down on the edge of the bed, her heart still throbbing unpleasantly. Last time they'd at least had the whole evening together to warm up, get sufficiently intoxicated, talk what they wanted and what they didn't. They couldn't do her the same courtesy this time? Or was it just Yuuto, still recovering from breaking their stupid, arbitrary rule?

Satsuki's throat tightened as she swallowed the rush of contempt that didn't feel nearly as good as it usually did. She yanked open the bedside table drawer and carefully dug through the vibrators, nipple clamps and bottles of lube and oil to find a small glass jar of weed, a bowl and a lighter. She packed the bowl rather carelessly, lit up and inhaled. She closed her eyes as the smoke filled her lungs, compressing her heart and forcing it to slow down. She stayed there as long as she could, relishing the relative calm it brought, then exhaled, imagining she could send all doubts and semblence of giving a fuck away in the cloud of sweet smoke.

"Arashi, go get him!" Yuzuriha hissed, nudging her.

"What?!" she sputtered, though of course she'd seen Sorata say he needed air and step out onto the porch, all alone.

"He giftwrapped that for you!" exclaimed Hokuto, appearing at Arashi's other side. "Go!" Arashi would usually have felt shy, but her drunkenness afforded her a strange clarity, and she knew she was right. Besides, it wasn't like she didn't want to. With a brave nod, she drained her solo cup, set it on the counter and followed Sorata out the door. Yuzuriha and Hokuto fell against each other, giggling. "They're so in love!" Hokuto said, wistfully, and though Yuzuriha just shrugged, she was grinning too. "Oh god…"

"What?" On the couch, Subaru and Kamui were now kissing passionately, drinks forgotten on the floor beside Kamui's shirt. "Typical," muttered Yuzuriha, rolling her eyes, though she was still smiling. "They are sweet, though."

"They are," agreed Hokuto, though she turned away pointedly and Yuzuriha followed suit.

"Is that weird?" she asked, under the music.

"Not as weird as it was in college," Hokuto replied, "but even so. He's my little brother, he'll be married with kids and I'll still think he's twelve." Yuzuriha snorted. "The only thing that's really hard is that Subaru has terrible taste in boyfriends." Yuzuriha wasn't sure how to respond to that so she just took another sip of her drink. "His MO is 'let me find the most fucked up person in the room and latch on!'" Hokuto elaborated.

"Kamui's not like that!" Yuzuriha cried, indignantly, but Hokuto patted her on the arm.

"I know, Kamui's a sweetheart! Moody, but a total sweetheart."

"His moms always say 'hostile.'" Hokuto snorted too, but then her eyes darted back across the room, focusing for a moment on Subaru and Kamui, then Kakyo chatting to Karen and Keiichi.

"Subaru's vice has always been people, though," she reflected. "So is mine, so I can't judge, but," she shrugged theatrically and shook her head before patting Yuzuriha on the arm again. "Sorry, listen to me getting all introspective!"

"It's okay!" exclaimed Yuzuriha at once, waving the words aside. "It's interesting, what you said about… People being vices."

"How so? Is there someone you're addicted to?" Hokuto asked, peering at Yuzuriha over the rim of her cup. Yuzuriha's expression tightened.

"I wouldn't say addicted," she replied, hesitantly, and Hokuto leaned forward inquiringly, her lips still pressed against her cup. Yuzuriha swallowed. She liked Hokuto very much, but there was something telling her strongly and clearly not to elaborate. "There's someone I like, though," she decided on, finally, and Hokuto's eyes widened excitedly.

"Who? Someone at Babylon?"

"Oh no," Yuzuriha replied at once, and though she didn't quite manage to hide her embarrassed giggle, she did manage to play it off. "I'd lose my mind trying to date a colleague!" As she said it, the knot of doubt and despair over her and Kusanagi's situation inside her tightened painfully, but she ignored it.

"Totally fair!" Hokuto said, decisively, though her eyes also strayed to Kakyo again. This time, he didn't miss the gesture, and gave her a glowing look across the room.

"Hey," Sorata said, surprised but pleased to see Arashi in the dooorway to the kitchen.

"Hi," she replied, smiling hesitantly. She stepped onto the porch. The noise of the party dropped as she focused on Sorata and the cool night air enveloped her.

"What's up? Getting air too?" Arashi nodded, came to stand beside him and placed her hands on the chipped railing. Sorata eyed her hands and thought for a moment of taking one into his own, but resisted. He was thrilled that she'd approached him on her own again, but couldn't think of anything to say. However, as he stared at her moonlit profile, he found he was content just to look.

Neither Fuuma nor Seishiro spoke to each other as they were ushered, hurriedly but politely, out of Yuuto and Kanoe's house with Mr. and Mrs. Aoki. They said their goodbyes and thank yous on the front porch, and though Yuuto and Kanoe were quick to head back inside, the other four remained there. Seishiro continued to be uncharacteristically social, promising to see the Aokis again the next time he was in town, though he couldn't be bothered with a precise date. This only added to Fuuma's irritation, as Seishiro always knew his schedule months in advance.

'Except when he shows up out of the blue like the first week of rehearsal,' Fuuma reminded himself. He exhaled sharply through his nose and rolled impatiently backwards and forwards on the balls of his feet. After what felt like an extraordinary amount of time, Mr. Aoki insisted they'd kept their babysitter long enough and really did need to get home.

"It was so nice to finally meet you!" Mrs. Aoki exclaimed, allowing both Fuuma and Seishiro to kiss her on the cheek.

"Likewise," Fuuma replied, graciously, as Mr. Aoki shook his and Seishiro's hands.

"We'll see you soon, good night," Seishiro said, and Fuuma unlocked the car. In the momentary blaze of headlights, Fuuma noticed Satsuki's bike locked up in front of the porch. He hastily turned his burst of laughter into a cough as they got into the car.

"Let's go?" said Seishiro immediately, all social grace gone.

"Don't spin out on me," Fuuma countered, reversing out of Yuuto and Kanoe's driveway behind Mr. and Mrs. Aoki. At the bottom, they went left, and Fuuma right.

"Please," Seishiro shot back, resting his head against the window. Neither of them spoke as they made their way back along the narrow, winding road. Trees and silence pressed in around them, and the sky stretched, pitch dark but glittering with stars, overhead and into the valley below. All that could be heard was the rev of the engine. It was serene and beautiful, but Fuuma couldn't shake his agitation. He kept glancing at Seishiro, wanting to pick and probe despite knowing how stupid that was, especially because he had no idea what he'd even say. Normally all he'd have to do was get Seishiro into the right state of mind and he'd be forthcoming. Now he actually had to ask for it. He supposed it might be easier to find out about the director and whatever else while Seishiro was drunk, but it could also backfire horribly. As he mulled over his options, Camellia's words kept coming back to him, which only fueled his agitation. He took a deep breath in and sighed it out, hoping they could just get home, fuck and go to sleep like normal.

They spent the entire car ride in silence, and Fuuma barely had to pull into the driveway before Seishiro was out the door. Fuuma sighed impatiently, shut off the engine and followed him through the porch and kitchen, up the stairs and down the hallway. The very air seemed to press in upon them, and Fuuma felt more than ever like he didn't belong, like the house where he'd been a guest for four summers had finally decided enough was enough. Neither of them bothered to turn on any lights, and Fuuma could barely make out Seishiro's outline through the blackness, broken only by the moonlight glittering through the windows.

When they were back in Seishiro's bedroom, he turned on the bedside table lamp, and in the sudden brightness it struck Fuuma just how old fashioned the room was, how old the walls and furniture looked compared to Seishiro's laptop, their cellphones, even their clothes. He remained in the doorway, his eyes on Seishiro as he stood beside the bed. It seemed both of them were waiting for the other to move, but Fuuma had no idea how to proceed. He kept his eyes on the back of Seishiro's neck as he bowed his head forward, exposing more skin, pale and contrasting sharply with his dark hair and suit jacket. He sighed, straightened up again, and Fuuma stiffened as though preparing for an attack.

"Why haven't you fixed the screens yet?"

It was the last question Fuuma had expected and it took him a moment to respond. "What?"

"The porch screens," Seishiro repeated. "Why haven't you fixed them?"

"I've been busy," Fuuma replied, still nonplussed. Seishiro said nothing. "I'm sorry, did you forget I've been up to my neck in your show?" he asked, his voice rising. He knew it wasn't wise to pick a fight, but Seishiro still wasn't looking at him, and when he replied with nothing more than a contemptuous noise, Fuuma pressed on. "Or no, I guess you didn't give a fuck, just like last year when you dipped out on me?" The bitter words lit a pleasurable, angry fire in Fuuma's chest. Seishiro turned to face him with narrowed eyes.

"Is that what you think?" he asked, his lip curling.

"It's what the fuck happened!" snapped Fuuma. "Did you know last year was gonna be a shit show and that's why you left or did you just not care?"

"So it was my fault that you weren't happy with your show?" Seishiro asked, which only incensed Fuuma.

"Why you never told me about your show?" he demanded, changing tact.

"Excuse me?"

"Yeah, your Macbeth, you didn't think to tell me you were-"

"What does that have to do with you?" Seishiro shot back, his face, a moment ago so flushed from alcohol draining of color in his anger. The fire in Fuuma's own chest blazed.

"Well apparently everyone and their mother loves to compare me to that director, so-"

"Isn't that their problem?" Seishiro snapped, his lip curling. "I've never told you that, if-"

"Why, you let him fuck you too?" The second the words were out of his mouth, Fuuma regretted them. For an eternal moment, Seishiro looked as though Fuuma had slapped him, then his expression hardened into one of cold fury. Fuuma had never seen him look like that, ever, and it was scary.

"I'll ask you again," he said, venomously. "What does that have to do with you?" Fuuma stood paralyzed by his own words, totally unable to defend himself. "Exactly," Seishiro continued, his hands balled into fists. He took a step backwards and Fuuma's stomach hitched fearfully. "Especially not if you plan on leaving." Fuuma sputtered, but before he could actually say anything, "Get out of my room, please."

"Wait, I didn't mean it, I-"

"Get out of my room, please," Seishiro repeated, turning his back on him. Fuuma wanted to argue more, to fight back and persist, but he could feel Seishiro withdrawing even as he stood there, as though he were water he was trying to hold in his cupped hands.

"I'm sorry!" he cried, desperately, but the words bounced off the new invisible wall around Seishiro.

"I won't ask you again." A full minute passed in ringing silence.

"Goddamn it…" Fuuma turned on his heel and slammed the door shut behind him, plunging himself into darkness. He strode down the hallway to Setsuka's bedroom and slammed that door too. He didn't want to turn on the lights. He didn't want to see. He felt shaken, really rattled, as he hadn't done in a long time. He couldn't get Seishiro's words out of his head and kept seeing flashes of him, his face so full of anger, the back of his neck, the photo of him downstairs. He shuddered and his stomach clenched painfully.

He shouldn't have made that comment. He should have had more self control. He always had more self control, what the fuck had happened? His heart, stomach and lungs shriveled as he remembered, and then… Did he really talk about leaving that much? But who the fuck was Seishiro to talk when he'd had no real response to Fuuma pointing out how he'd abandoned him and his project last year?

Fuuma shuddered again, the hot anger stinging his shrivelled insides. He closed his eyes, took a deep breath in and sighed it out, refusing even to vent his feelings with a yell. Without bothering to get undressed, he threw himself into bed. He shuddered as he disturbed the sheets, musty and old like the rest of the house, like the screens he still hadn't fixed.

"That was smooth," said Yuuto with an awkward smile at his wife as they closed the door on their departing guests. Kanoe just tossed her hair and gave him a kiss on the lips.

"It was fine." Yuuto wrapped his arms around her waist and pulled her flush up against him. His smile softened affectionately as he looked into her face, so beautiful and familiar. He tenderly tucked a strand of hair behind her ear.

"Satsuki's upstairs," he said, much more quietly than he'd intended, and his heart gave a guilty squeeze. Kanoe, who of course already knew that, placed her hand on his chest and toyed with the buttons on his shirt.

"Are you excited?" she asked in a husky voice. Goosebumps rose up Yuuto's arms and his heart smashed guiltily into his ribs.

"Yes," he replied, just as softly.

"Mm…" Kanoe gave him another kiss on the lips, then took him by the hand and led him upstairs.

Satsuki sat up at the approaching creaking footsteps. Kanoe threw open the door and beamed at her while Yuuto remained a step behind, looking like a little boy about to be punished. For a moment, none of them spoke, then, "Sorry I started without you," Satsuki said, lazily, gesturing vaguely at the weed and bowl on the bedside table.

"You act like we haven't been drinking all evening," Kanoe replied, smiling and running her fingers through her hair.

"Mm," Satsuki said, not returning the smile. She could feel Yuuto's eyes on her, but refused to look at him. She was settling into that kind of high that made her withdraw into a state of introspective hostility, exactly the wrong state given her plans for the evening. 'That's the problem with weed,' she thought, the words rising from deep in her mind to break its otherwise placid surface. "You could have some too," she reminded Kanoe, testily. Kanoe laughed and turned to Yuuto, who averted his gaze at once. It gave Satsuki a most enjoyable rush of power to see him blush.

"I'm fine," Yuuto replied, rather awkwardly. "I'll have another drink, though." He rushed back downstairs, and Satsuki smirked at another surge of power.

"Is he getting cold feet?" she asked Kanoe in the same testy tone. Kanoe just picked up the weed and bowl and sat down beside Satsuki to repack it.

"Of course not." She lit up, took a long hit and held the smoke in her lungs. Satsuki watched her impassively, though impatience and hostility continued to simmer just below her conscious mind. "It's just been a while," Kanoe elaborated on her exhale, the sweet smoke clouding around them.

"Mm." Kanoe set the bowl back on the bedside table and leaned back on her hands, her neck long and hair falling gracefully behind her. Her dress was open at the front and her cleavage was pale and smooth in contrast to the dark fabric.

"That is good weed," she said, closing her eyes. The words seemed to intensify Satsuki's own intoxication and her mind suddenly began to churn, dredging up thoughts.

'Your husband fucked me. Why is he taking so long? Why did I even come over here?' More to get her mind to be quiet than because she really wanted to, Satsuki moved closer to Kanoe, placed her hand on her thigh and began to nose gently against her neck and ear. Kanoe smiled and made a soft, contented noise, her nipples getting hard through the fabric of her dress. However, she straightened up and faced Satsuki, her gaze steady despite the intoxicants.

"Not without Yuuto," she reminded her. Satsuki withdrew at once as a sharp stab of anger broke the surface of her mind, sending furious waves she didn't understand or want crashing against the inside of her skull. She suddenly wished more than anything that she was back home, away from Yuuto and Kanoe and all the associated bullshit. However, at that moment she heard Yuuto coming back up the stairs, and stayed put.

"Let's go upstairs," Kamui breathed against Subaru's lips, and he groaned and nodded gratefully. The pair of them got up from the couch and rushed upstairs hand in hand.

"You forgot your shirt!" Yuzuriha called after them.

"You forgot I don't care!" Yuzuriha rolled her eyes at Hokuto.

"You're more than welcome to stay in our dorm if you want to just leave them to it," she said, smiling sympathetically. Yuzuriha was about to insist that it didn't bother her, but then remembered Sorata and Arashi and thought it best to give them space.

"Sure, that'd be great," she replied, and Hokuto beamed and raised her drink.

"Excellent, it'll be one big sleepover!"

"We can braid each other's hair and tell secrets!" Yuzuriha exclaimed.

"Wait wait that sounds like an awesome time though," interjected Keiichi from across the room.

"You're more than welcome to join us!" Hokuto told him, and he punched the air and threw his other arm around Kakyo, who didn't shy away or even look surprised. He just smiled and returned the gesture, still feeling at peace. Hokuto's heart squeezed in her chest, and they all headed out the door, still holding their drinks.

"Did everyone leave?" Sorata asked, as the closing front door bounced in its frame a few times and their castmates' voices receded.

"I guess so?" Arashi replied, looking over her shoulder into the suddenly empty kitchen. Why had they left without even telling them? Did they know or suspect something after she'd followed Sorata onto the back porch? She suddenly remembered getting dragged to parties with her aunt, snobby parties where you couldn't so much as hold your drink the wrong way without arousing suspicion. Then of course there'd been parties her schoolmates threw whenever someone's parents were out of town. Somehow no one's parents ever found out, though Arashi's aunt always warned her, "Things like that will get you in trouble." Arashi hadn't bothered to remind her that she never got invited to parties like that anyway. Obviously once she started doing theater, things had changed. Cast parties were an essential part of any show, but she'd always leave early and feel terribly awkward. It was only this show where she'd really actively participated and spent time with her castmates. She felt brave in a way she hadn't ever felt before, even when drunk, even when alone and away from prying eyes. She didn't even care that Hokuto and Yuzuriha had not only seen her follow Sorata, but had encouraged her to do so.

"What's up?" Sorata asked, tilting his head to the side and leaning a fraction of an inch closer. Arashi shook her hair out of her eyes.

"Nothing, sorry, I was just feeling introspective all of a sudden," she replied, rather awkwardly. She shifted against the railing, the resulting creak echoing in the darkness. Sorata smiled, and warmth flooded Arashi's chest. Sorata felt the shift and goosebumps rose up his arms.

"What were you thinking about?"

"Nothing important." Before he could protest, she looked him dead in the eye, making his heart skip. "What happened between us. Was that… Was that it?" Her face burned at the firmness of her own tone, but she didn't look away. For once she wasn't worried about his reaction; she just wanted information.

"It can be if you want it to be," Sorata assured her at once, though it was immediately clear that his answer hadn't satisfied her. He swallowed. "I, look that's true, okay? The ball's in your court on this one." Arashi's mouth went rather dry. What did that mean? What could she even do with the ball? Again, Sorata could tell she wasn't satisfied, and he had no idea how to proceed. Could he say explicitly how he felt or what he wanted? He didn't want to pressure her, but… "For what it's worth," he said, slowly, and the space between them sharpened. "I like you, and I'm sure it's not just because of the play, so-"

Arashi stepped forward, seized the sides of his face and pulled him into a kiss. Sorata didn't even have time to be surprised before his mind immediately melted into the sensation. He thrust his tongue into her mouth and threw his arms around her. Arashi groaned into the kiss and collapsed against his chest, allowing him to support her. All the pressure and tension she hadn't even realized she'd been carrying came rushing out of her with the drink and his words.

"Upstairs?" she gasped, desperately, between kisses.

"Upstairs," Sorata moaned in agreement.

They broke apart reluctantly and rushed back inside the now deserted dorm and up the stairs. The only sounds were the creaking floorboards, chattering insects and heavy breathing and low, needy moans from Kamui's room.

It felt like hours later, though by the clock on the bedside table it had barely been twenty five minutes, since Yuuto had come back upstairs with drinks and initiated the "boundaries" conversation. He was talking a mile a minute, as though he could verbally vent all the heat and nervous energy his heart kept pumping through him. Kanoe sat up in a dignified posture, smiling and nodding reassuringly. Satsuki remained silent, seething and sipping whiskey. The sharp taste and chill of the ice cubes knocking against the class helped her stay focused, though most of what she was focused on was her thoughts of, 'Shut the fuck up and move this along, please.' They'd had the exact same conversation the last time too, what could possibly be so different? 'Oh yeah, you fucked me and now you feel bad.'

"So… Is that all right?" Yuuto asked, hesitantly, swirling his own glass of whiskey, slippery from sweat and condensation.

"That's all right with me," Kanoe answered, and Yuuto smiled gratefully at her.

"Sure," Satsuki replied, lazily, and Yuuto finally decided to look at her. His mouth immediately ran dry as her eyes narrowed behind her glasses and she tilted her head to the side. He wondered suddenly if this was a horrible idea, if they should hold off another night. However, before these thoughts could really take hold, Satsuki drained her glass, placed it on the floor and kissed Kanoe full on the lips.

Kanoe gasped and responded at once, closing her eyes and cupping the side of Satsuki's face to pull her closer. Yuuto's breath caught in his chest and any and all doubts, or indeed thoughts, immediately drained out of his head, rushing downwards to heat up his belly and fuel his erection. He spread his legs apart subconsciously and though he wanted more than anything to join in, he allowed himself a moment to watch.

Satsuki thrust her tongue into Kanoe's mouth and ran her hands up and down her thighs, her waist, finally cupping her breasts and feeling lace, mesh and embroidery. She pulled away so their lips were a millimeter apart. "You wore something special for me?" Satsuki asked in a low voice. She didn't actually care, nor was she remotely turned on by the contact, but she knew Yuuto was watching and how much he'd be enjoying it. 'Pathetic,' she thought, even as the ensuing rush of power sent heat between her legs. Kanoe laughed softly and licked playfully under Satsuki's top lip.

"You want to see?" she breathed. Satsuki smirked.

"Yes." Kanoe got to her feet and Yuuto let out a low guttural moan, his erection twitching excitedly as he stared between them, unable to pick one thing to focus on, until he locked eyes with Satsuki. Her smirk widened, and her eyes flashed behind her glasses before she turned to stare at Kanoe instead, watching her undo her dress and slide it down to pool around her ankles. She looked beautiful: the matching bra, panties and garter belt holding up fine black stockings were all of a luxurious black lace embellished with intricate embroidery. She stood still a moment in her lingerie and high heels, drinking in their stares, though Yuuto was already looking past the fabric to her perfect body beneath it. Satsuki could appreciate the view aesthetically, and it was made all the more appealing by a rush of superiority: she didn't need to rely on such things. However, underneath these thoughts her stomach did shrivel just a little as she stood up, took her hair down and undressed too, revealing a sports bra and underwear that didn't match.

Fortunately, before she could think about it too much, Yuuto began to get undressed too. Both women immediately stepped forward to help. Kanoe unbuttoned his shirt and wrapped her arms around him to pull him into a kiss while Satsuki eased it off from behind and pressed herself up against his back. She closed her eyes for a moment and rubbed the side of her face between his shoulder blades, shivering as her inner walls, and heart, gave a hopeful throb. However, she caught herself and refocused at once, bringing her hands down to try and undo his pants, only to find them scrabbling against the backs of Kanoe's.

Yuuto moaned, the hand that wasn't squeezing Kanoe's ass reaching blindly for Satsuki. He'd be lying if he said he didn't love this, having two gorgeous women kissing and touching him, and even though he wanted to reciprocate, they were both so different and so amazing and- "Oh fuck!" he gasped, breaking his and Kanoe's kiss to toss his head back as Satsuki took hold of his erection. Her inner walls gave another hopeful throb as she felt how hard he was, as she thought of how good he felt everywhere even with another person there.

"What do you want?" Kanoe breathed, her hands palming Yuuto's chest. He squeezed her ass at the same time Satsuki began to stroke his erection, making him shudder and gasp.

"Fuck, I," he continued to grope blindly for Satsuki and she sped up her strokes, feeling incredibly powerful and excited all of a sudden.

"You want me to go down on you," she answered for him.

"Oh god!" He looked at her over his shoulder and gently cupped the side of her face. They locked eyes, and sudden, unexpected tenderness rushed through them like an electric charge. Her face was so pretty, and her hair that was usually pulled back in a ponytail was hanging around it in waves. Emotion surged up between them, making Satsuki's mouth run dry. His eyes shone in the soft light from the bedside table lamp, and he was so handsome, and still wanted her despite his gorgeous wife… Satsuki kissed him hard on the lips and it set her whole body on fire. She knew a sudden, deep longing for him, and knew also that she needed it now and wouldn't settle for anything less.

Yuuto felt transported by her passion and kissed her back just as fiercely, swaying slightly in both sets of arms, until Satsuki pulled away, leaving him gasping, but then just as quickly Kanoe began to kiss his neck. "Lie down," Satsuki commanded through clenched teeth.

"Mm," Kanoe breathed against his flushed skin, smiling at Satsuki appreciatively. Yuuto shivered, but nodded, and both women withdrew. They stood side by side, Kanoe twirling her hair around her finger with a deeply satisfied look on her face while Satsuki crossed her arms in front of her chest, her expression appraising. Yuuto blushed and gave a rather embarrassed laugh as he undressed completely. The sound tugged at Satsuki's heart, but she ignored it, distracted as he lay down on the bed, naked, his legs spread and arms above his head, the smooth lines of his body delicious in the soft light.

Kanoe moaned, lay down beside him at once and kissed him soundly on the lips. Yuuto groaned appreciatively and wrapped his arms tight around her, his hands all over her smooth skin and silky hair. He gripped her lace covered ass and slipped his first two fingers into her panties, shuddering excitedly at how wet she was. "Oh!" she cried out, also shivering and shifting her hips to grind against his fingers.

'Do you ever stop performing?' Satsuki thought, contemptuously, even as her body longed for the sensation. She forced the feelings away and climbed into bed, settling herself between Yuuto's spread legs, eyes fixed upon his erection rather than on him passionately kissing Kanoe. With another agreeable rush of power and contempt she reminded herself how much better she was at this than Kanoe. Yuuto had never said so explicitly, but he'd certainly told her with his reactions. She leaned forward, took hold of his erection and licked it up from base to tip. Yuuto felt a shock of arousal through his body and moaned into Kanoe's mouth, his toes curling and thighs seizing up. 'That's right,' Satsuki thought, smirking and repeating the move.

"Oh god," Yuuto moaned, still holding tight to Kanoe, though the wet, teasing sensations were distracting him from pleasing her. Satsuki licked up his length again, then paused at the tip to swirl her tongue around, to taste the precum already oozing forth. She shivered and closed her eyes, her inner walls giving yet another hopeful throb as Yuuto groaned and finally pulled away from Kanoe to watch. She immediately buried her face in his neck, kissing and sucking and biting while running her hand up and down his chest. Satsuki paused and pressed the tip of her tongue deliberately against the deliciously sensitive spot just under the head of his erection and sucked hard. He let out a soft, whimpering moan and reached for the side of her face. They locked eyes again, and for the briefest moment that same intense longing flooded the space between them. However, this time it was tinged with something darker that immediately threatened to deflate Yuuto's erection and made Satsuki feel suddenly sick.

Fortunately, before either feeling could really kick in, Kanoe pulled Yuuto once more into a feverish kiss, shattering their connection. Satsuki's stomach clenched around the jagged aftermath and she returned to her task at once. She sucked him up and down, slowly but deliberately, and he cried out into Kanoe's mouth and thrust his hips upwards. The hot, wet pressure sent waves of pleasure out through every nerve of his body. He felt gripped, paralyzed, Kanoe's kisses suddenly threatening to overwhelm him. He let go of her and splayed out on his back, his thighs trembling.

"Like that!" he managed to moan, and Satsuki exhaled sharply through her nose while Kanoe cried out in excitement. Satsuki kept going, sucking him hard, but slow, and yet again came that glorious and deeply arousing rush of power as Yuuto yielded to her completely despite having his arm around his wife. With his free hand he reached overhead and gripped his pillows, his knuckles whitening as Satsuki changed her angle slightly. "Oh fuck yeah!"

"Mm," Satsuki groaned around his erection in spite of herself. She knew this angle, she knew all his hot spots. She did.

Yuuto opened his eyes blearily and stared down at Satsuki, dimly aware of Kanoe kissing his neck, whispering in his ear, rocking her hips back and forth as if grinding against the air. Had he been less absorbed in his own pleasure, he might have thought of pleasing her again. However, he was too focused on Satsuki, and almost as if she could sense it, she met his gaze. Yet again the space between them was thick with that dark, painful longing.

Satsuki wrapped her fingers around the base of his erection and took her mouth away, stroking him instead. The deeply pleasurable tension gripping Yuuto's body eased slightly, leaving him gasping, but distracted enough to stay hard. He shut his eyes tight and pulled Kanoe into another heated, desperate kiss that turned Satsuki's stomach. Exhaling sharply through her nose, she dove back in, sucking him hard, but faster now, just how she knew he liked it.

Immediately his thighs began to shake and she swallowed a spurt of precum as his erection throbbed in her mouth. Yuuto moaned hard into Kanoe's kiss and yet again his free hand was gripping tight to the pillows above his head. His mind was spinning and white hot pleasure was coursing through his veins. The pressure inside him was almost painful, and his erection stiffened as he pulled out of the kiss to stare once more at Satsuki.

"I'm gonna come!" he cried, his expression desperate and voice constricted. Satsuki groaned without meaning to and kept going, feeling suddenly desperate herself. The pressure and tension built gloriously and Yuuto's entire body stiffened, then released in an unmistakably intense orgasm. His erection throbbed against Satsuki's tongue as he spilled himself into her mouth. For a moment, she closed her eyes to relish the sensation, his pleasure, his taste. When she opened them it was to find him kissing Kanoe again, but it wasn't the desperate, needy kisses from before. It was soft. Tender. Loving.

It was like a lit match on the fury inside Satsuki waiting to catch fire. She straightened up and spat Yuuto's cum all over his deflating erection. He cried out and his eyes shot open, the action like another powerful electric shock, so strong it was almost enough to get him hard again. He stared down between his legs, his mouth hanging open, then slowly raised his gaze to Satsuki.

She gave him a cold smile that was so tense with anger her jaw was starting to hurt, or maybe that was just from sucking him too hard. However, her anger was fueling, powerful and gratifying, and her eyes glittered with it. Yuuto said nothing, just continued to stare, and even as what she'd done turned him on so much it was enough to make him dizzy, he knew by her expression that something was very, very wrong. He felt as though his stomach, heart and lungs had disappeared, leaving his chest echoing. Kanoe was saying something, but it was just background noise, until she dove forward and began to lick him clean. Yuuto shut his eyes tight and threw his head back with a cry, the sensation almost sharp on his oversensitive skin. Kanoe groaned theatrically and Satsuki seethed with contempt.

'You like my sloppy seconds?' she thought, spitefully, not troubling to remind herself that she would only ever be getting sloppy seconds under these circumstances.

After returning to the other dorm, Karen had gone straight to bed while Yuzuriha, Keiichi, Hokuto and Kakyo spent another hour or so on the porch, talking and drinking water to try and combat the effects of the punch. The conversation was as light and easy as the chatter of insects around them, and Yuzuriha fell silent after a while, content to listen to Keiichi and Hokuto and watch Kakyo stare enraptured at her. She wasn't sure if Hokuto didn't see him or if she was ignoring him, because she herself only chanced glances at Kakyo when he wasn't looking. Why though? Everyone was aware of Kakyo's feelings for Hokuto, and Yuzuriha was sure she was too. Therefore, she assumed if Hokuto wasn't addressing them, it must be for a good reason.

Yuzuriha's thoughts, as they so often did, strayed to Kusanagi. Were her feelings also that obvious? And, if so, was he aware of them and ignoring them too? Or did he just not pay her enough attention to really take notice? She couldn't decide which was worse, so she announced to her castmates that she was turning in as well.

"You can share my bed," Hokuto told her. "And Keiichi, you can take Subaru's."

"I must remember to thank him," Keiichi replied, grinning, and got to his feet too. "This is such an awesome cast, I'm so grateful!"

"You're so sweet, Keiichi," said Hokuto, ruffling his hair.

"I try!" And with that, he and Yuzuriha headed upstairs to bed, leaving Hokuto and Kakyo on the porch in silence.

"Did you have fun?" Hokuto asked, quietly, after a few minutes, her face shining in the diffuse yellow porch light and her eyes wide and beautiful. Kakyo sighed contentedly, all the corners of his mind and heart still smoothed by the alcohol.

"I did," he said, then, for what felt like the thousandth time that summer, "thank you for bringing me here." She beamed.

"You're very welcome!" Kakyo's heart swelled in his chest, but the words didn't seem like nearly enough to convey his the depth of all he was feeling.

"Really, you're… You've done so much for me, and I…" His voice trailed away into the night. Hokuto was still smiling, but she felt her stomach contract, sending words up her throat.

"I'm happy to do it." Kakyo smiled warmly and genuinely at her. 'He's gotten so much better…' Her stomach contracted guiltily again. "I should get to bed too," she said, after a moment. She stood up, but Kakyo reached out and took her hand. Hokuto froze, her entire being focused on his sweaty palm in her own.

"Wait a moment?" Hokuto's heart began to pound, blocking any excuse she might have made. She didn't move, and Kakyo stood up too, still holding tight to her hand. Normally he'd never ty to wrangle his words to talk about how he was feeling, particularly with something this large and intense, but punch induced bravery made him want to try. "Hokuto, I think you're the most incredible person I've ever met," he said, the words coming out far more clearly than either of them would have expected. "I'm not sure what it means, but," he swallowed and squeezed her hand. "You're so much more than a friend to me, I…" An excited shiver ran through his body and he paused, looking as usual to Hokuto to guide him, his heartbeat pounding in their clasped hands. "I feel like you saved my life, and…" His voice trailed away, and once again his words were absorbed by the night.

"That's very sweet," Hokuto said, softly, after who knew how long. "But, I think it'd be best if we finished this conversation tomorrow."

"What?" Kakyo cried, bewildered and alarmed, shattering the tension like breaking glass. "Wait, I-"

"Kakyo, please," she begged, quietly. "For both our sakes, let's have this conversation when we can think clearly?" The edges of Kakyo's mind were sharpening again as his inner warmth and contentment began to drain away. In the new space, he felt empty. Pointless. Sad. Familiar. Was this wrong? He'd allowed her to guide him so far, had he suddenly veered off their shared course? Or were they ever on a shared course to begin with?

"Right," he said, softly, because he couldn't think of anything else to say. "Okay, sorry." They were still holding hands. "I wasn't trying to-"

"Let's go to sleep, it's been a long day," Hokuto soothed, and Kakyo just nodded, a lump rising up in his throat.

She led him by the hand back into the dark kitchen and up the stairs, their footsteps creaking eerily in the darkness and silence. They paused at the landing. All of the bedroom doors leading off it were closed except Kakyo's, and the moonlight pouring through the windows above his bed lit up Hokuto's face. Even now, she was beautiful, and the lump in Kakyo's throat was painful and his heartbeat was sharp in his chest. He tried to tell her goodnight, but the words wouldn't come, trapped in his throat as it constricted still further. Fortunately, Hokuto saved him the trouble.

"Good night. Sleep well." Kakyo nodded and she let go of his hand. He backed slowly into his room. At the same time, they both reached for his doorknob to close it. Their hands touched, and they withdrew at once. Hokuto forced a smile. "Sorry! Sweet dreams!" Kakyo just nodded and shut the door, leaving her alone on the now pitch dark landing.

Hokuto remained still, staring at the closed door and listening for anything worrying. However, all she heard was Kakyo sigh and fall into bed. She stayed there until she was as sure as she could be that he was asleep. Not that she'd been planning on going in. Of course, the moment this thought occurred to her, she envisioned herself opening the door, climbing into bed beside him and waking him…

She shuddered, not in disgust or aversion, but something else entirely. She closed her eyes and held her face in her hands. It surely wasn't guilt. She had no reason to feel guilty. 'He doesn't like me, he likes what I've done for him,' she tried to reassure herself, though the words had the opposite effect. Her throat burned and she pressed her hands so hard into her eyes that colors bloomed in the blackness. Did that actually bother her? Was that really how she felt?

It hadn't ever occurred to her before, because she always made it a point not to get involved that way with friends, especially not friends she was trying to help. There was no reason Kakyo should be any different. 'Get some sleep,' she told herself. 'This is all just punch talking.' Hokuto forced her eyes open and entered her own room as quietly as she could.

Yuzuriha was lying in her bed, curled up on her side and facing away from the door. Hokuto could tell she was still awake, but didn't disturb her. She got into her night clothes and lay back to back with her, her chest still painfully constricted and her eyes wide and staring unseeingly across the room.

Kakyo was so much better now, everyone had said so, but had she really accomplished anything by bringing him here, or was it just a bandaid on an ax wound? Or was she setting him a dangerous journey with herself as the prize? Subaru had warned her against potential consequences and questioned her motives all year, then, in May, when they were preparing to leave, "Are you actually going to give him space or just remind him to take it?"

"Stop it," she'd snapped, playfully. But now… Maybe Subaru was seeing things more clearly than she'd given him credit for. She remembered a fight, she couldn't have said which one, when he'd told her seriously to back off.

"I don't need your help!" he'd yelled across their living room. "I love you, but please! Let me do this myself!"

The first time they'd had that fight it had caused a temporary, though absolutely terrifying, rift between them. Even now it made her skin crawl to think about it. However, Kakyo just wanted to get closer, the exact opposite, but now she didn't want that? Hokuto curled in tight around herself, trying to suffocate the sudden surge of feelings in her chest. However, when they were not to be suppressed,

"Yuzuriha?"

"Hm?"

"You should tell Kusanagi how you feel." Yuzuriha stiffened and Hokuto could feel her shock in her own body, which made her feel simply awful, but it was at least distracting from whatever else was going on. However, Yuzuriha said nothing, and eventually they both fell asleep.

Chapter Text

Thick, dark storm clouds rolled over Clow as Paying A Call To The Prozorovs' director, cast and crew were falling asleep. They obscured the moon and stars, then kept the rising sun's light and warmth at bay. Seishiro woke to a gentle clap of thunder at 6 AM and was out the door by 6:30, leaving Fuuma alone in his old house. Fuuma himself didn't stir until later, when the soft patter of rain had turned into a powerful downpour.

Half asleep and eyes still closed, he groaned and stretched, but as he inhaled the smells of the rainstorm and musty sheets, memories of the night before seized him and forced him awake. He sprang out of bed and ran down the hall, though he'd known long before he got to Seishiro's room that it was no good. Sure enough, the bed was empty and neatly made, and Seishiro's clothes, laptop and cigarettes were gone.

Unable to stand the sight, Fuuma turned on his heel and sprinted back to Setsuka's room, his heart pounding against his ribs. He snatched up his cellphone from the bedside table, but the only message was, 'I'm sorry! did you survive?' from Camellia. Fuuma's knuckles whitened as his hand dropped to his side. He'd expected this, too, but his throat seared painfully and his hand shook for how hard he was gripping his cellphone. His first instinct was to call Seishiro, but before it could take root as an action, he remembered him last night, his utter fury and disgust and hurt.

"Get out of my room, please."

Fuuma closed his eyes as the pounding in his heart reverberated up into his head. He shouldn't have said what he said. Even in the moment he'd known it was just inflammatory, but that didn't explain why Seishiro had reacted like that, unless… It didn't matter. Surely Seishiro wasn't still hung up on something from that long ago.

"Oh this is like our most famous Macbeth!"

Fuuma massaged his throbbing temple with his middle and index fingers, then called Seishiro. No answer. He tried again and achieved the same result. He tried again. And again. The fifth time with no answer, he threw his phone onto the bed and pressed the heels of his hands into his eyes. Color bloomed in the blackness as he took a deep breath in and sighed it out.

He'd been given the silent treatment (or straight up ghosted) after arguments before, obviously, and normally it wouldn't bother him. If the person wanted to come back, they'd come back. Either way, it wasn't his problem. Now, though, his stomach writhed and twisted in what he took to be frustration. He hated being in this limbo and he hated that he cared, but most of all he hated that he had no idea what to do. He brought his hands down to cover his nose and mouth, took another deep breath in and exhaled through his fingers, though his stomach continued to squirm and his head and heart continued to throb uncomfortably.

Desperate for literally any distraction, Fuuma showered, dressed and made coffee, then carried his mug through the house, turning on every single light, overheads and table lamps and even lighting the dusty candles on the dining table. For what must have been the first time in years, the gloom that usually permeated the house receded a bit, but Fuuma didn't find it comforting or encouraging as he returned to the kitchen. He slid open the door to the porch, inhaling the smell of the rain and shivering in the chill. A sudden flash of lightning threw the screens he still hadn't fixed, and were so obviously not what Seishiro was actually angry about, into sharp relief. The clap of thunder followed a few seconds later, and Fuuma turned on the porch light, making the holes and tears in the screens more obvious. He reflected that if someone else had told him, "my lover left in the middle of the night because I hadn't fixed screens, or at least that was what he told me," Fuuma would have laughed and said good riddance. It would have been hilarious. Except that it wasn't.

Why hadn't he just asked Seishiro what was really bothering him? Why had he allowed himself to be drawn into the misguided conflict? Perpetuated the bullshit? He took a sip of coffee as more lightning flashed through the screens. Of course, it was easy now to think about what he should have said and how he should have said it, but it was also pointless. 'I should have fixed the screens though,' he thought in spite of himself. He backed into the kitchen, slid the glass door shut against another clap of thunder and returned to the living room.

He'd been fairly confident in their years working and sleeping together that he'd known Seishiro well, that those tiny expressions in his face and body that went unnoticed by others and those words he let slip during vulnerable moments no one else saw were more than enough to make up for the lack of honest conversation. However, as he looked up at the photograph of Seishiro and his mother, the overwhelming realization that being able to imagine Seishiro as that small boy and actually knowing how that small boy had grown up into the man before him, were nowhere near the same. Seishiro had kept him in the dark on purpose, and Fuuma had been proud of the scraps he'd received.

The frustration in Fuuma's stomach boiled even faster and the steam rising from it made his heart ache. He took a hasty sip of coffee and tore his eyes from Setsuka's, focusing instead on the smaller framed photographs on the mantelpiece and end tables. He'd looked at them before, obviously, but now he was actually seeing them. His eyes found one in particular, an old color photo of a hearty looking couple with weathered, good natured faces. Between them was a teenaged boy, already taller and broader than his father. Fuuma squinted at the boy's face and realized with a start that it was Kusanagi.

'Of course it is,' Fuuma reminded himself, impatiently. Kusanagi had grown up here and his father had done all the restoration on the building that would eventually become the Igarashi, as well as this house. However, he hadn't realized that their families had been close enough to have photos of each other on their mantelpieces. He drank more coffee and looked at the rest of the photos, at the faces of other people from Seishiro's past, about which he now had to admit he was woefully ignorant.

In old photos of the founders of Babylon, Fuuma wondered which of the young men was this director. Probably the one closest to Setsuka, that would make sense. As he stared into their faces, it occurred to him that Kusanagi must have known him too. His eyes paused on a framed Polaroid of Seishiro and Kusanagi as teenagers in what was unmistakably the Igarashi. They weren't in costume, or at least they didn't seem to be, and Kusanagi was smiling his usual, kind smile, while Seishiro just looked discomposed. Who had taken the photo? What had they been talking about before they'd been interrupted?

Fuuma retrieved his phone from his back pocket and called Kusanagi before it could even occur to him that he was the last person he'd want to hear from on his day off. "Hello?" The trepidation in his voice hurt way more than Fuuma would have ever expected.

"Hey, sorry to bother you on your day off, uh," he paused, unsure exactly what he wanted to ask and hating how unsure he sounded. He was never above asking for help or outsourcing a solution to a problem, but it didn't make it less uncomfortable. He heard Kusanagi sigh. "No seriously, I meant that!"

"What do you want, Fuuma?" Fuuma hesitated.

"It's not about the show," he said, carefully.

"What?" Kusanagi asked, apparently before he could stop himself. "Is everything okay?" His concern sounded genuine. Fuuma hesitated another moment, then decided on the truth.

"No, not really. Last night ended up pretty fucked up. It was totally my fault-"

"It was what?" Kusanagi asked, again apparently before he could stop himself. Fuuma rolled his eyes, though he knew he deserved that.

"It was my fault and I need your help," he said, as bravely as he could.

"All right then, um…" Kusanagi was clearly caught off guard. "Is this something I do over the phone or do you want to meet up somewhere?" Fuuma mulled the question over for a moment. He didn't want to remain alone in Seishiro and Setsuka's house, not when he was feeling so out of sorts and unwelcome.

"I'll come meet you, but nowhere super visible. It's about Seishiro, so…" He cleared his throat and looked away from the eyes in all the photos.

"I see… Why don't you just come over?" A tidal wave of gratitude rose and crashed in Fuuma's chest at the instant understanding and total lack of judgment.

"You sure?"

"Here's hoping. Get over here before I change my mind." Fuuma couldn't help but laugh.

"Okay. Thanks."

"You remember how to get here?"

"Sort of?" Kusanagi refreshed Fuuma on directions to his house, then said goodbye.

Fuuma heaved a heavy sigh as he ended the call, noticing there were no new messages from Seishiro. He swallowed the ensuing surge of bitter feelings with the last of his coffee.

The trip to Kusanagi's took longer than expected because of the thunderstorm. Rain pounded against the car and blurred his view, though he could still see lightning striking the opposite side of the valley and hear thunder like cannon fire overhead. He pulled into Kusanagi's driveway and sprinted up to the porch, head bowed against the downpour. He took a moment to collect himself, then knocked. Kusanagi opened the door at once, his expression stiff, but curious. "Come in," he said, moving aside.

"Thanks," replied Fuuma, stepping over the threshold and out of his shoes. There was a fire burning in the hearth in the living room, and its warmth washed over him and brought with it a fresh wave of gratitude.

"Do you want something to drink?" Kusanagi asked, shutting the door against the storm. "I just made coffee."

"That'd be great," Fuuma replied, more to be polite than because he really wanted anything. Kusanagi led him into the kitchen, which was full of the smell of woodsmoke and fresh coffee. "I forgot how cozy your place is," said Fuuma.

"Thank you. You want milk or sugar? I've also got honey from my neighbors that's really nice." Fuuma laughed softly, but fuck if he didn't appreciate it.

"Please."

Once both mugs of coffee were doctored up, Fuuma and Kusanagi returned to the living room and sat down in armchairs by the fire. The warmth inside and out put Fuuma more at ease, but his unasked questions kept his nerves taut. It didn't help that Kusanagi was clearly waiting, sat across from him with his mug in both hands, his expression suspicious, but still receptive. Fuuma took a fortifying sip of coffee, trying to decide how best to go about this. "Your parents were friends with Setsuka, right?"

"You could say that," Kusanagi replied.

"There's a picture of the three of you on Seishiro's mantlepiece."

"That's still up?" Kusanagi asked, a smile playing around his mouth as he drank coffee.

"Yeah," Fuuma replied, quietly. "I know you and your dad did construction and stuff for Babylon, but-"

"There's not much more to it," said Kusanagi, shrugging. "It was mostly professional, but we did care about each other; Setsuka did a lot of fundraising for us after my dad got sick, and she was always good to both my parents and me." Fuuma caught the constriction in his voice and suddenly felt just as much an outsider as he had done last night in Setsuka's bed. Again, it actually bothered him that he wasn't privy to this community's collective history and memory.

"That was really good of her," Fuuma said, softly.

"It was," Kusanagi agreed, smiling his first big, genuine smile. "Is that what you wanted to ask about?" It was clear from his tone that he knew it wasn't, and Fuuma appreciated the favor.

"Nah," he replied, sipping more coffee. "Um, that Macbeth, the one whose poster's still up. You weren't in that, were you?" Kusanagi raised his eyebrows.

"I was, yeah, with Seishiro. Did he not tell you that?" Fuuma's eyes narrowed at what felt like a jab, even if the rest of his brain knew it was only a request for information.

"I only know he played the Doctor," replied Fuuma. He swallowed his pride with a sip of coffee. "What was he like, the man who directed it?" The question seemed to unblock him, and he felt a piece of some wall he hadn't even realized he'd built fall away.

"No disrespect, but you're asking this after four years in?"

"Blow me," Fuuma snapped. He and Kusanagi glared at each other for a moment, but then laughed, bringing down more pieces.

"Well that's a pretty vague question," Kusanagi continued, "and I didn't know him that well so I'm not the best person to ask-"

"Fuck off." Again they shared a laugh.

"I'm just letting you know," Kusanagi said, and his expression softened thoughtfully. "I know you've heard this before, but you two are alike. Intelligent, creative, too passionate for your own good and not giving a fuck as a matter of principle…" Fuuma smiled into his coffee, feeling rather touched to hear Kusanagi speak of him this way. However, after he got his answer, he realized he'd asked the wrong question.

"What happened to him? Does he still direct?"

"Probably," replied Kusanagi. "He moved to London after Macbeth and we didn't see him for like, six years."

"The fuck…?"

"No weird circumstances or anything. From what I remember he said he just needed a change of scene. I can respect that."

"Me too," Fuuma replied at once, and Kusanagi closed his eyes as though to stop himself from rolling them. "What's that for?"

"I didn't say anything."

"You didn't need to." Kusanagi sighed and Fuuma regretted his interrogative tone. "Sorry, I-"

"I just wasn't surprised to hear you say that, is all."

"Why?"

"You're always talking about leaving," Kusanagi said, bluntly.

"I heard that last night too," Fuuma muttered, annoyed and confused. "What the fuck are you all talking about?" Kusanagi burst into incredulous laughter. "What?!"

"Since day one this season we've been hearing about it," Kusanagi replied, as though it were obvious, which only annoyed Fuuma more. However, Kusanagi stood his ground, his expression suddenly appraising. "I know last season was rough, so-"

"Did he ever come back? That director?" Fuuma cut in, his tone stating firmly that they weren't talking about him right now. Kusanagi stared at him impassively for a moment, then his face fell under a sudden sadness.

"He comes back periodically to see shows, but the last time he actually stayed and spoke to people was Setsuka's funeral."

"…Oh," Fuuma replied, rather lamely. Setsuka's sudden death was another thing about which he knew virtually nothing. Somehow it seemed insensitive to say so, even though he couldn't change that without asking about it. "You were there too, I'm guessing?"

"I was. Everyone connected to Babylon was there. People I hadn't seen in years. There were even people trying to crash the service, it was bizarre." He sighed and drank more coffee. "It was a beautiful service though. That director spoke, and so did Seishiro, obviously."

'You take too much for granted if you think that's obvious,' Fuuma thought, but then just as quickly reminded himself of how it would look if he hadn't spoken, of what people would have said. He felt a sudden rush of sympathy for Seishiro, so young, grieving someone he'd spent half his life resenting and having to answer to so many people who didn't understand or didn't care. He fell silent and stared into the crackling fire, holding tight to his mug with both hands.

"That night was hard," Kusanagi said, quietly, after a moment.

"It must have been," said Fuuma, just as quietly. Kusanagi sighed heavily again and stared at Fuuma over the rim of his mug with narrowed eyes, looking more to be choosing his words than judging. "What?" Fuuma asked, doing his best to keep challenge out of his voice.

"Again, no disrespect, but I'm pretty sure this isn't what you wanted help with either." Fuuma said nothing for almost a minute while lightning flashed and thunder clapped outside.

"You're right," he said, eventually, another crack appearing in the wall.

"Do you know what you want to ask?" Kusanagi's tone was kind, but firm nonetheless, and yet another piece crumbled and fell.

"I think so." Kusanagi smiled, a broad affectionate smile that Fuuma recognized, but had never seen directed at him.

"You know, you have such an incredible ability to see through people's bullshit, but when you're blind, you're blind." The words seemed to float in the air, then fall onto Fuuma like a weighted, humiliating veil, pushing any reply he might have made into the depths of his heart. "So I don't blame you for not trusting people," Kusanagi continued, "and I'm not asking you to trust me, but-"

"What does trust have to do with anything?" Fuuma interrupted, forcing the veil off defiantly. A log in the fire split in half on a tongue of flame, sending sparks flying. He expected Kusanagi to come at him with disbelief or incredulity, almost wished he would so they could argue, but yet again he was surprised.

"Everything," Kusanagi replied, simply. "You see through other people's facades, you see how they lie to themselves and you see how they lie to each other. How can you believe anything they say to you?"

"Because I know what's actually going on!" Fuuma snapped, his own raised voice taking him by surprise.

"True, until someone comes along who surprises you," Kusanagi continued, patiently. "Then who's wrong?" These words too hung in the air, then fell in upon Fuuma, leaving him staring blankly at Kusanagi. Was it really that simple? That Seishiro had just broken his trust? A prickle of shame crept down his spine.

"So it was my fault you weren't happy with your show?" Seishiro had asked last night.

'Why weren't you there?' Fuuma thought, the shame making his insides shrivel. 'I wanted you there!'

"I'm not asking you to trust me," Kusanagi said again. "But could you please just ask me what you want to know so we don't have to keep talking around it?"

'Of course the fuck I can,' Fuuma thought, crossly, but then regretted it just as quickly. "Sorry," he told Kusanagi, and he meant it. He drained his coffee and set the mug on the table in front of him. "This doesn't leave this room," he said, straightening up.

"I understand." Fuuma took a breath in, then told Kusanagi about how Seishiro had been acting strange since all summer. "More so than usual, I'm guessing," said Kusanagi. He then explained how much that had sucked, especially after what happened last year. "It must have." He continued to the party, how disconnected he'd felt from Seishiro. "I'm so sorry," said Kusanagi. Then about Seishiro getting drunk and picking a fight over porch screens. "I see," said Kusanagi.

"So then it just fucking escalated, you know, and that guy came up and," Fuuma paused, another prickle of shame running down his spine. "I said, well I only said it because I was mad and-" He paused again, hating how defensive he was being. "I asked if I was fucking him too, and I know I crossed a line."

"I see," said Kusanagi again, and Fuuma finished the story with finding Seishiro gone that morning. "I see," Kusanagi said yet again. Fuuma fidgeted in his seat, waiting for Kusanagi to comment, but he didn't.

"I feel fucking weird even telling you all this," he burst out, when he could stand it no longer.

"It's weird for me too," Kusanagi assured him, which oddly made him feel better. "I don't like getting drawn into other people's," he paused, "problems. It's not my place, and to be honest, most of the time I don't have the energy." Fuuma narrowed his eyes, this mentality simultaneously familiar and foreign. His usual MO was of course "that's not my problem," but he could hardly say "that's not my problem" when he'd caused the problem in the first place. More of the wall crumbled and fell.

"I understand," he said, and he meant it as much as he was able. "And I get if you can't tell me, but… Was that what was going on?" Kusanagi stared Fuuma hard in the face, and he wondered for a moment if he'd gone too far, but,

"I don't know, and if I did that's Seishiro's story to tell, not mine."

"I understand," Fuuma said again, though he felt rather defeated. He couldn't just ask Seishiro, could he? After never getting straight answers from him, Fuuma had just assumed that asking for things directly was a waste of time. However, now he wasn't sure if that was actually true. He looked away from Kusanagi to check his phone for the first time since arriving. No messages. "This fucking sucks."

"It'll be all right," Kusanagi said, bracingly. "Seishiro will turn up again eventually. Regardless of what's going on between you two, he won't leave Babylon." Fuuma bit the inside of his lip and stared into the fire again, trying his best to find the words comforting. A moment's silence passed. "Do you wanna smoke?

"Are you serious?"

"Sure."

"Fuck yeah!" Kusanagi smiled, and Fuuma stood up and clapped him hard on the shoulder, the last of the wall giving way. "Thank you."

Fuuma and Kusanagi spent the next hour by the fire, passing a bowl back and forth and talking about other things until the drug mellowed them into silence. It occurred to both of them how little time they actually spent together, particularly outside of work, particularly one on one, particularly without frustration and hostility.

Fuuma lay back against the couch, the fire mesmerizing now. Kusanagi watched him from across the room, thoughts rising and breaking in his mind like quiet ocean waves. It had been common gossip, and was now common knowledge, that Fuuma and Seishiro's relationship was both personal and professional. Despite knowing full well it was none of his business, he couldn't help but feel torn about not telling Fuuma what he knew. It wasn't his story to tell, that fact remained strong and true, but he was sure the information would help, especially because he doubted Seishiro would ever tell Fuuma the story himself. He stared into the fire, and Setsuka's funeral washed up on the shores of his mind, battered by waves and sand but still clear as ever.

The reception started in the afternoon at the Igarashi. The winter sun hung low in the frozen sky, turning the several feet of snow that covered Clow grey-blue and gold. Bitter winds lashed at the exposed hands and faces of black clothed mourners as they made their way across the parking lot, but inside was bright and warm and boozy. The atmosphere wasn't cheerful, but it was supportive, as though all the bodies and memories and emotions inside the theater could fill the gaping hole left by its leader. Kusanagi was twenty one, and everyone who had known him as a kid was quick to comment on it.

"You're grown up!"

"Oh my god I didn't recognize you!"

"Look at you! You remember my daughter-"

Kusanagi didn't mind, though. He smiled kindly and spent a few hours with his mother, catching up with old faces and trading stories. He spotted Seishiro a few times, looking pale and angular, but didn't exchange words beyond condolences and an apology when his mother gave him a fierce hug. He also spotted the director, crying openly in front of the Macbeth poster and being plied with drinks by former company members.

Once it got really dark, Kusanagi's mother kissed him and Seishiro goodbye and headed home, and all the superfluous people began to follow. Kusanagi could have easily gone with them, but the boiling down of the group was giving him a bad feeling. He stuck around and switched from brandy to coffee.

Those people who were, or thought of themselves, closest to Setsuka huddled by the bar, crying and reminiscing and toasting. Kusanagi had the distinct impression the original company had started this way: drunk creative people telling stories and making promises. His heart squeezed as he joined the group. Seishiro sat by the director, who exclaimed in surprise at the sight of Kusanagi, then immediately launched into a flood of stories about his father, then him as a kid, which of course bled into their production of Macbeth.

Seishiro flushed, but went with it, his eyes still fixed upon the director as he sipped steadily on his drink. Kusanagi's bad feeling got worse as the director began to tell one story in particular, something long and poetic about Setsuka's deep understanding of characters, and indeed of all people. His grief and innumerable bourbon and sodas suddenly intensified inside him, and he began to cry again, but spoke bravely through his tears. It was quite a sight, but Kusanagi was watching Seishiro instead. His lips were parted and he was breathing rather quickly, his eyes glazed but wide with longing. Kusanagi's bad feeling now felt like an alarm going off in his mind and gut, but still he said nothing.

"Sorry," the director said, thickly, wiping his eyes and giving his audience a watery smile, which they returned, laughing and assuring him that all was well. He heaved a heavy sigh, downed the last of his drink and turned to the man on his other side, who rubbed gentle circles on his upper back.

They kissed.

Seishiro's gasp was buried under more sniffing and nose blowing, but the look of utter devastation on his face made Kusanagi's stomach disappear. "Do you want to get out of here?" the director asked, smiling weakly.

"I think it's time," his partner replied, quietly. Another kiss, and they began to tell everyone goodbye. Seishiro downed the last of his own drink in one, his eyes glassier than ever, as though the light in them had gone out. He got to his feet and swayed where he stood. Kusanagi's body tensed expectantly, but the director at last turned to Seishiro and pulled him into a tight hug. Seishiro wrapped his arms around him, and his fingers flexed against the back of his suit jacket as though longing to cling on. After what seemed like a long time, they broke apart, and the director held Seishiro at arm's length.

"You're going to be amazing," he said, very seriously, fresh tears sliding down his face. Seishiro said nothing, biting down on the inside of his lower lip to stop it from trembling. "Take care of yourself, Seishiro." And with that, he let go and turned away. Seishiro's small cry of "wait!" went unheard under the rest of the goodbyes, and Kusanagi's heart broke. He shook hands with the director one last time, then sprinted to Seishiro's side. Seishiro swayed again, whether from grief or drunkenness Kusanagi couldn't tell, but he gripped his arm to steady him.

"Hey," he said, under his breath. Seishiro faced him, blinking as though having trouble getting him into focus.

"What?" He was clearly wasted and becoming more so by the second.

"Let's go," muttered Kusanagi. Seishiro watched the director leaving through the frost covered lobby doors, and his throat constricted visibly. He nodded. Kusanagi got their coats and led him out of the lobby, keeping him steady as best he could. The icy night air stung their faces and made their eyes water as they trudged through the snow and gravel. "Easy does it," Kusanagi said through chattering teeth.

"My car's this way," Seishiro slurred, and Kusanagi rolled his eyes.

"You can't drive. I'll take you home." Fortunately, Seishiro didn't protest, and Kusanagi got him safely into the passenger's seat of his truck. He climbed in himself and started the engine. Heat immediately blasted from every open vent and fogged up the windows. "Are you okay? Feel sick at all?"

"No," mumbled Seishiro, his head against the window.

"Let me know." Once the windshield defrosted, Kusanagi put the truck in gear and pulled out of the parking lot, winding in and out of snow banks and other cars. Downtown was pitch dark and silent, almost oppressively so.

"I'm so stupid," Seishiro mumbled, after a while. He was splayed out an odd angle, but at least his seatbelt was on.

"You aren't stupid," Kusanagi said, pacifyingly.

"What did I think was going to happen?" Seishiro continued, seemingly unaware of the reply. "What did I think was going to happen…" Kusanagi's heart ached for him, but he stayed focused, driving slowly and carefully out of town and into the mountains. "I'm disgusting…"

"You aren't disgusting."

"I'm disgusting…" Kusanagi pulled up the driveway to Setsuka's house at last, and the sight of it dark and empty caused another wave of grief to rise and crash in Kusanagi's chest. It was only exacerbated as he helped Seishiro out of his truck and into the house. Even in the darkness, it still felt so lived in: there were dishes in the sink, a light flashing on the answering machine, and as they passed Setsuka's room with her clothes strewn about and bed left unmade, Kusanagi caught a whiff of her perfume. Seishiro stopped abruptly, clutching his chest and gasping.

"It's okay," Kusanagi said, bravely, half carrying Seishiro the rest of the way down the hall and into his room.

"I'm so stupid," he choked, falling face down into bed.

"You're all right," Kusanagi said, soothing, though his heart throbbed painfully. "Just go to sleep, it'll be better in the morning." He could hear his mother's voice as he spoke. Seishiro replied with a soft moan and passed out almost at once. Kusanagi sighed heavily, then carefully turned Seishiro's head to the side and brushed his hair out of his eyes. He looked like he had as a kid, those times they'd spent the night at each other's houses. Kusanagi hoped he wouldn't remember any of this, that he'd wake up tomorrow and could grieve without this added loss.

Kusanagi heaved another sigh and went downstairs, gathering water and pain reliever and those other things you'd need when you woke up hungover. He had no plans to leave Seishiro by himself, though he knew he'd probably prefer it that way. 'Why don't you let people in?!' he thought, on a fresh wave of grief and frustration.

"I wonder if he's texted Tsubaki," Fuuma said, yanking Kusanagi sharply out of his memories.

"What?" he asked, bemusedly, blinking as he looked at Fuuma rather than into the flames.

"Camellia, I wonder if Seishiro's texted her." Fuuma still hadn't replied to her message asking if he'd survived the previous night.

"I don't know," said Kusanagi. "Why?"

"Never mind, it's not important." Fuuma sighed, closed his eyes and reclined against the couch. She'd said he liked theater because of its impermanence, Kusanagi said he couldn't trust and Seishiro had decided he was leaving. Well, it wasn't like he'd ever planned on staying any one place long, and if they all knew, why did they act surprised or hurt? As far as he was concerned, he was just making his intentions clear. Or maybe that was yet another thing he'd taken for granted. "She used to tell me the same thing," Fuuma amended, changing his mind suddenly. "That I always talk like I've got one foot out the fucking door."

"I see," Kusanagi replied, thoughtfully. He remembered building the sets for Yoru, or set really, as it had all taken place inside the protagonist's apartment. There had been television screens everywhere, which he and Satsuki had rigged to flash on and off or else show memory scenes or white noise. Camellia and Fuuma had managed to pitch it to him and Satsuki in a way that didn't instantly put them off, and though tech had been even more hellish than usual, the results were well worth it. Satsuki had actually seemed to appreciate the challenge and was far less surly, and Seishiro had been present as he hadn't ever been before. Kusanagi wasn't sure what it was about that show that had gotten everyone synced up like that, and he'd be lying if he said he didn't miss that. There was nothing better than a project where everyone was on the same page and working together, but then the following year everything had come apart.

"How did I have this giant fucking blindspot and not realize?" Fuuma asked, breaking their thoughtful silence.

"We've all got them," Kusanagi replied, as more memories of Setsuka's funeral washed up on the shores of his mind.

"Don't say anything, please," Seishiro said the following morning in Setsuka's kitchen, hungover with a mug of coffee and a plate of eggs and bacon Kusanagi had made for him.

"I won't."

Kusanagi had kept his promise and would continue to do so, because Seishiro had asked him to. It really was that simple sometimes, wasn't it? The memories of Seishiro transitioned smoothly into Yuzuriha, looking on helplessly as Sorata and Arashi walked back to their dorm side by side, at his dining table eating dinner, hanging out with him while he built sets.

"And that director really never comes back?" Fuuma asked, hoping for a different answer this time, but Kusanagi had nothing new.

"He does very occasionally. When he's here it's usually just to see shows. He doesn't like to draw attention anymore." Fuuma heaved another heavy sigh and checked his phone again. Still no messages.

"Here's what I don't get," he said, feeling bitter all of a sudden. "If me leaving is such a problem, why the fuck did Seishiro just ghost on us last year?" He was dimly aware of his volume rising, but didn't care.

"I don't know," Kusanagi replied, unfazed by Fuuma's tone.

"Was it a power move? I don't…" He broke off, the words suddenly sharp in his throat. He coughed and averted his gaze, though cast a furtive look at Kusanagi out of the corner of his eye.

"I have absolutely no idea," he replied, bluntly but not unkindly. "But even if you knew, would it be any less hurtful?" Fuuma shuddered, knowing Kusanagi was right almost suspiciously quickly.

"It might, if there's mitigate circumstances," he muttered, defensively.

"That's fair."

"I actually do understand context," Fuuma continued, trying to make a joke but mostly just sounding hostile.

"I know," said Kusanagi, pacifyingly. "Can I ask you something though?"

"Yeah," Fuuma replied, still sounding hostile and shifting awkwardly in his seat.

"Would mitigating circumstances really have made such a difference?"

"Of course!" Fuuma snapped in frustration. "That's why I asked you in the fucking first place!" Kusanagi said nothing, unfazed as ever. Then, in the ringing silence where only Fuuma's racing heart, the crackling fire and the rainstorm could be heard, his thoughts skidded to a halt, as though his brain had stumbled upon the edge of a cliff it hadn't seen through his weed haze. He'd been happily annoyed at Seishiro for ghosting last year, content to blame him and his absence for the show not being as good as it could have been. Now, however, as he stared over the edge of the cliff, the hot anger froze, sending icy tendrils out from his belly and chest.

It hurt that Seishiro had left. It hurt that they'd worked so closely together only to have him dip out the next project as though all that time had meant nothing. It seemed so obvious, especially given his MO that all people were temporary. "I never promised you anything," he remembered telling colleagues, friends and lovers, so they should- 'Seishiro never promised you anything either,' he reminded himself, coldly, and his eyes widened as if to view even more of the frozen wastes before him. Of course he hadn't, they didn't owe each other anything! 'So why is this different?' he asked himself, and his frozen insides stabbed him.

He didn't want to answer that question. At least not yet. For now, acknowledging that it was his fucking problem, and that he'd solve it with or without Seishiro, was enough, and that tiny ray of pragmatic sunlight was about the most comforting thing he could imagine. He sighed heavily and pressed his fingertips into his eyes. "Sorry for bothering you on your day off," he said, through his hands.

"It's all right," Kusanagi replied, quietly. Fuuma abruptly stood up, stretched and extended his hand. Kusanagi stood up too, then shook it. "Are you okay to drive?"

"Yeah."

"Are you sure?"

"Yeah." Their hands were still clasped.

"You don't wanna stay and eat something?" Gratitude bubbled up under Fuuma's frozen chest.

"I can do that."

Back in the kitchen, Kusanagi filled one of his smaller Creusets with tomato soup and gave it to Fuuma to heat up while he made grilled cheeses to go with it. Fuuma carefully stirred the soup with a large wooden spoon, the delicious smell mingling cozily with that of the rainstorm and woodsmoke. "You use so much butter," said Fuuma admiringly. Kusanagi's lip twitched as he spread even more on a thick slice of rustic bread.

"Picked up the habit from my mother," he replied.

"It's a good habit to have! I've known way too many people who don't know how to make grilled cheese, shit is disturbing."

"No wonder you don't trust people," replied Kusanagi, his eyes on the next slice of bread to be buttered.

"Ha!" Fuuma cried, but, 'if only it were that easy,' he thought, helping himself to soup. "Fuck me, that's delicious!"

"Thank you," said Kusanagi, over the sizzling of buttered bread in the frying pan. He hesitated a moment, then, "This was the only thing my dad was ever hungry for during treatment." Fuuma nodded sadly, his eyes suddenly shining as he watched Kusanagi cook.

"Can't say I blame him," he muttered, and Kusanagi smiled and flipped the sandwich over. They fell into silence, and Fuuma tried to remember how he'd learned to make grilled cheese. Probably observing at a distance and finding out for himself through trial and error later, the same way he'd learned how to use a charcoal grill. His heart suddenly tripped over the memory of grilling steaks and drinking wine with Seishiro after the first week of rehearsal. He looked sadly into the warm, simmering soup and took another spoonful. "Seriously, this is so restorative right now." Kusanagi laughed, transferred the first sandwich to a plate and started on a second.

Fuuma watched him cook and dish up in silence, then helped him carry plates and bowls back to the living room. Their conversation became light and easy again as they ate. Neither of them brought up the show, for which Fuuma was grateful, and for which he could sense Kusanagi was too. He knew he stressed Kusanagi out at work, and the last thing he wanted was to ruin this new found affectionate, safe atmosphere.

'I don't mean to stress you out,' Fuuma thought. Most of the time, he didn't mean to stress anyone out. He just wanted what was best for the project, and he liked to think everyone else did too, but, "You push people's buttons," Camellia had told him endlessly throughout Yoru, sometimes affectionate, other times exasperated, but most of the time just matter of fact. He'd always known this to be true, in fact he was sure that was part of why he was so good at what he did. He thought of Subaru and Kamui, of building them up and keeping them focused. He thought of helping Sorata find answers, of helping Arashi feel her feelings and of helping Yuzuriha take herself seriously. He thought of dragging Kakyo out of himself and watching him shine on stage. Then of the countless other casts he'd molded and shaped and made laugh and made cry, and wondered for the first time if these relationships that he'd thought of as reciprocal actually weren't.

He'd pushed his casts to give him everything, but in return he'd remained a detached observer, watching with an almost scientific curiosity as everyone felt and expressed themselves and their emotions. However, Yoru had been different because he hadn't just observed. He'd got stuck in and involved himself, spending extra time with the cast and crew, talking at length with them, Camellia and Seishiro about the characters and how they related to themselves. He'd loved it, totally unexpectedly, and had hoped for the same the following summer.

Unfortunately, no one was as invested. Camellia and Seishiro weren't there, and Fuuma had tried to revert to his usual MO and everything had gone to hell. He knew a deep rush of affection for his current cast followed by an undertow of isolation. No wonder Seishiro had pulled away. No wonder he'd left last night. However, he then looked at Kusanagi across the fire, who had stepped up to help by playing Dr. Grant and now with his issues with Seishiro, and thought of Nataku, Yuuto, Kanoe, Satsuki and Hokuto, those other people who had known him a few years and were always there to help him put his vision together.

He knew another wave of affection, isolation and reassurance, and realized how much he'd been straddling the fence all summer. Not quite in, not quite out. Again, no wonder Seishiro had been acting weird towards him. He'd have to commit fully one way or the other, and as he thought again of his cast and crew, of all the people who had come together to help bring his vision to life, his choice was obvious. He had to commit and get stuck in and see the show through, become a part of something bigger than himself. He resolved to finish what he'd started, to make it not just his problem, but share the problem, with or without Seishiro.

"Do you want seconds?" Kusanagi asked, jerking Fuuma back to the present.

"Yes please," he replied, brightly, his cheeks suddenly flushed. He helped Kusanagi in the kitchen and they finished their second helping with more light, easy conversation.

Once Fuuma felt totally sober, Kusanagi walked him to the door and opened it, letting in the noise and smell of the ever persistent rainstorm. "I'll see you tomorrow," said Kusanagi, holding out his hand. However, rather than shake, they clasped hands, pulled each other forward and clapped each other on the back.

"Thanks for everything," Fuuma told him quietly, then added, "have a good rest of your night, okay?" as they broke apart. Kusanagi smiled.

"You too, take care." Fuuma wanted to say something else, to really express his gratitude, but any words that came to him felt shallow and insincere. Instead, he clapped Kusanagi on the shoulder, stepped into his shoes and headed back out into the storm, the damp chill jarring after the warmth of Kusanagi's bungalow.

He started the engine the moment he was back in the car, shook his hair out of his eyes and turned up the heat. However, before he put the car in gear, he called Seishiro. His stomach twisted with every drawl of the dial tone, and he wasn't surprised when it went to voicemail. "Hey," he said, quietly. "I'm really sorry for last night. Shit was fucked up and I was way out of line. Um," he hesitated, because what else was there to say? Except… "I hope to hear from you soon. Bye."

He hung up with a heavy sigh and plugged in his phone. A soft guitar and male vocals began as Fuuma backed out of Kusanagi's driveway. How does that feel, to know somebody's world revolves around you? However, rather than return to Setsuka's house, he headed toward the hardware store outside of town. Don't think me cruel to drag up memories, of you, it's just the way to right my wrongs…

Chapter Text

The rain stopped at 3:57 AM. Fuuma knew the exact time because the sudden lack of driving rain had woken him immediately. He rolled over, curling tighter into the blankets and burying his face in the pillows. The linens were all fresh and clean rather than stiff and musty after Fuuma had washed them that afternoon. They also smelled deeply familiar; the detergent he always used was one of the few things he'd taken from his childhood. Cocooned in the warmth and the smell, he tried unsuccessfully to go back to sleep a while longer, then gave up and went downstairs to the kitchen.

Without turning on any of the lights, he crossed the cool tile floor and slid open the door to the porch. It was that all consuming, impenetrable darkness that preceded dawn, and Fuuma could barely make out the shapes of the furniture and grill through the blackness. Owls hooted and insects buzzed, but all else was silent. Fuuma stood still, strangely on edge, goosebumps rising up his arms and random disjointed thoughts flashing in his mind. Seishiro, his parents, Clow, New York, Three Sisters, Macbeth. Eventually, Fuuma managed to gather his wits about him, turned on the overhead light and set to work changing the screens he'd been neglecting. He finished just as the sky lightened to a cold blue grey, then went back to bed as the sun began spreading rosey feelers over the valley.

He caught a few more hours of sleep, then dressed, picked up coffee in town and went to rehearsal. He wasn't sure what he'd find, and something was telling him to stay on high alert. However, as he entered the Igarashi, he found Nataku perched on a barstool waiting for him as usual. 'Encouraging,' he thought, though he was unable to keep the hesitation out of his voice as he said, "Morning." Nataku hopped off the stool, snatched his usual stack of papers off the bar and clutched them to his chest.

"Hi. How was your day off?"

"Let's not discuss it," said Fuuma. Nataku's deadpan expression shifted for a fraction of a second in either confusion or concern. However, he made no comment, and a warm spring of affection bubbled up in Fuuma's chest. "You're the best, you know that?" Nataku raised his eyebrows, but Fuuma just laughed. "What's up? How's things here?" Nataku rolled his eyes.

"I'm trying to get press night organized but the administration remains obtuse as ever." Fuuma burst into contemptuous laughter and fuck if it didn't feel good. "Other than that, I'll leave it to you," Nataku continued, nodding at the entrance to the theater with a look of vague disgust.

"I got this, let's go."

"Here's hoping." Again, Fuuma burst into laughter while Nataku made a contemptuous noise, and they walked side by side into the theater. The cast was clustered on stage waiting for him, looking tired and in varying states of distraction as they chatted amongst themselves.

"Hello," said Fuuma, and suddenly all eyes were upon him. He knew a moment of deep connection to every single person there, to all these people helping him achieve his vision. 'Helping,' he thought, mentally reaffirming his commitment to get stuck in and give them more of himself. "Nice to see you," he continued, and he meant it. "I hope you're all over your after tech hangovers." Everyone laughed, though he saw a few shudders and he smiled widely. "Good. Get into costume. I want a stumble through, tech and all."

"Good morning to you too," said Kusanagi, and again everyone laughed. Fuuma caught his eye and they exchanged a warm smile before he turned and followed Yuuto to the dressing room. Satsuki hopped off the stage and passed him on her way to the lighting booth, looking surlier than usual.

"You okay?" Fuuma asked her.

"Aside from my upper back still killing me? I'm fabulous," she replied, smiling sarcastically before stalking off. Fuuma shook his head and took his usual front row center seat.

"Oh shit will you go remind everyone I don't want them in the audience anymore?" he asked Nataku, who nodded and hurried backstage.

"Did you ladies have good days off?" Kanoe asked once she, Karen, Yuzuriha and Arashi had shut the door to their dressing room.

"I think the universe is trying to tell me I'm too old for parties like that," Karen laughed, though she'd enjoyed herself immensely.

"Lies!" exclaimed Yuzuriha, kicking off her shorts and sending them flying across the room. "Whoops!" She rushed to retrieve them while the other three laughed.

"Too much sugar in your coffee this morning?" Arashi asked. Karen and Kanoe looked momentarily stunned before bursting into more laughter. Arashi blushed, but was pleased at the reaction. Yuzuriha grinned, snatched up her shorts and strode back across the room with her head held high.

"Not as much as you," she muttered playfully in Arashi's ear as she passed. Arashi blushed deeper and let out an indignant cry, but again was pleased at the reaction and with herself.

She and Sorata hadn't gotten beyond kissing after the party, they'd been way too drunk, but they'd spent all of the following day together. They'd gotten breakfast in town and toured the famous author's house, the thunderstorm surrounding them making them feel like the only two people in the world. In between commenting on the quiet, beautiful interior, the house's history and the author's work, they'd discussed other things, learned about each other before and outside of BTC. Arashi couldn't believe how easy it all was, how much they had in common and understood. They got dinner in town too, then returned to their dorm and hung out with their castmates for the remainder of the evening. They'd exchanged one last kiss away from prying eyes at the top of the stairs before returning to their separate bedrooms. Arashi was still waiting for the anxiety to set in again, for doubt to creep into her mind and heart, but in the meantime she relished the warm, uplifted feelings. She was also aching to get back into bed with him.

"How was your party?" Karen asked Kanoe, who smiled a self-satisfied smile.

"It was a good time," she said, lightly, zipping up her dress and stepping into her heels. "You should have come!" Karen laughed and zipped up her own dress.

"I appreciate that, but I'd rather not seventh wheel."

"You could have brought someone! I told you that too." Karen laughed.

"Like who?" she asked, incredulously.

"Kusanagi?" Kanoe offered, and the other three raised their eyebrows at the readiness with which she'd come up with this suggestion. She smiled and started to put up her hair. "He's been single for way too long. I worry about him." Yuzuriha's heart stopped and her mind flashed back to what Hokuto had said. How had she known? And if she knew, did Kanoe know? Did she not think she and Kusanagi would work? She found this thought surprisingly insulting despite not caring about Kanoe's opinion in the slightest.

"He seems fine to me," Karen said, perplexedly.

"Alone with his tomatoes? I don't know…" Yuzuriha shuddered as though the words had stung her. She checked her reflection in the mirror one last time and left the room in a swish of pink and green, slamming the door behind her. Arashi, Karen and Kanoe all jumped, then looked at each other in the sudden, echoing silence. "What was that about?" Kanoe asked, concernedly.

"I don't know," Karen replied, gazing at the closed door with a furrowed brow. Arashi said nothing, but resolved to go talk to Yuzuriha in private, as she'd done for her.

Yuuto was having a hard time getting into costume. He kept fumbling over his tie and buttoning his shirt the wrong way. He wasn't surprised; he'd been feeling out of sorts and off balance for the last twenty four hours, ever since waking up on Monday morning with Satsuki and Kanoe on either side of him. It had been a fun night and he'd hoped to continue that morning, but Satsuki had left almost the moment she'd woken up. Yuuto's heart had hurt him and his stomach had squirmed guiltily. She'd been unhappy with him all night, and though he was sure it went beyond leaving her hanging outside for a half hour, that was the most salient thing, so he hung onto it as he rebuttoned his shirt for the twelfth time.

"What did you do Sunday night, Kusanagi?" asked Keiichi, emerging from the neck of his undershirt and shaking his hair out of his eyes. Kusanagi furrowed his brow. The rest of his weekend had been rather overshadowed by his afternoon with Fuuma.

"What did I do… Oh! I made tomato soup and watched Planet Earth for the thousandth time."

"That sounds amazing," said Subaru, pulling off his t-shirt.

"It was, I must say."

"Can I try some soup?" Kamui interjected eagerly.

"I'll bring you some, just remind me," replied Kusanagi, smiling fondly at him.

"Cool, thank you!" he said, before adding, grumpily, "I wanted to steal some of the sauce you gave to Yuzuriha but she'd have killed me." Kusanagi laughed, though he felt rather touched.

"I've got plenty, it's no problem," he replied. "How was your party?"

"Fucking great, can't you tell by the bitemarks?" Sorata asked, playfully, nodded at the bruise on Subaru's chest. Everyone snorted and looked quickly at Subaru to see how he'd take this. However, he just rubbed the bruise affectionately and replied with a coy smile that made everyone laugh harder.

"I'd ask if you were jealous, but…"

"Ooh!" chorused Keiichi and Kamui. Sorata blushed, and though he was clearly pleased with himself,

"Shut up," he told them, just in case.

"I'll give you hickey next time," Kamui assured him.

"Too late, I'm mad now," Sorata snapped, turning away.

"Why are you mad?!" demanded Kamui in mock outrage.

"You're fucking rude, that's why."

"Can I make it up to you?"

"I doubt it…"

"Hmm," said Kamui in theatric thoughtfulness. "How about this? I won't spit on you next time we hook up." The entire room exploded into laughter, which masked Yuuto's embarrassed splutter.

"I won't," Sorata gasped, doubled over, "I won't spit on you next time we hook up, holy shit, Kamui!"

"Told you. I'm generous like that," Kamui replied, shrugging, though he was grinning broadly at the reaction.

"I mean, unless you're into that sort of thing," Keiichi added to Sorata, confidentially, and yet again the room exploded with laughter that masked another embarrassed cry from Yuuto. He turned away from the group to finish getting dressed, remembering intensely and viscerally Satsuki doing exactly that and just how into it he'd been. However, he could also still remember the look on her face, the cold fury and disgust… He shook his head and took a few deep breaths, doing his utmost to stay focused, or at least put the memories to the back of his mind for the moment. He knew he'd have to talk to her. He'd make time. It'd be productive. With that reassuring thought, he was able to finish getting dressed, noticing as he did so that Kakyo hadn't joined in any of the raucous laughter or rude comments, and close up he looked rather pale.

"Sorry," Yuuto muttered to him under his breath. "You get used to the vulgarity eventually, I promise."

"What? Oh!" Kakyo replied, trying and failing to smile reassuringly despite hearing none of the conversation. "I'm okay, don't worry about me, I'm just tired." It wasn't a total lie: he'd been feeling completely exhausted since the party, though he only remembered the beginning, then bits and pieces. His last distinct memory was standing in his dark bedroom doorway facing Hokuto, holding hands and saying goodnight. He remembered her brave face, how her eyes had sparkled in the moonlight, but also the sadness underneath the bravery and beauty. He hadn't been able to really make sense of it at the time, and the next thing he knew he was waking up fully clothed in bed the next morning, driving rain pounding in his head and anxiety in his chest.

He'd immediately gotten out of bed to find Hokuto as he always did when feeling uneasy, and had come upon her in the kitchen making breakfast for Keiichi and Karen. She'd been her usual cheerful self, but something hadn't been right. He'd tried to ask her if she was okay, if something had happened the night before, but she'd brushed him off. It gave him a strange, empty feeling, and though he'd followed her lead in not saying anything more, it felt like the wrong thing to do, like he should know better. He flushed at the thought. How could he possibly know better? When had he ever known better?

A knock on the door forced him back to the present, to his castmates' noise and Yuuto looking nearly as troubled as he felt. Kamui rushed to answer the door, revealing Nataku, who looked relieved he hadn't walked in on anything strange. A giggle ran around the room.

"Fuuma wanted to remind you you're not allowed to sit in the audience and watch anymore," he said. Everyone nodded in understanding, still trying to stifle giggles, and Nataku shook his head in despair and left the room. The moment the door closed, everyone, even Yuuto and Kakyo, erupted into another fit of giggles, and finished getting into costume.

Nataku turned towards the women's dressing room and nearly walked smack into Yuzuriha. "Oh my god, I'm sorry!" she exclaimed, blushing.

"It's fine," he replied, put off by her agitation. "Fuuma wanted me to remind you not to hang around and watch in the audience anymore."

"Right! I remember!" she cried. "Thank you!" And with that, she rushed past him down the hall, leaving him staring after her, perplexed.

Behind the screen, Yuzuriha paused, trying to breathe and get her wits about her. Fortunately, all around her was dark, dusty silence, and she leaned against a wall and stared at the prop table across from her. She kept taking deep breaths as she stared at each of the props lined up neatly. The espresso machine Dr. Grant bought the Perspicuous was in the very center and shining in the glow of the light clamped to the side of the table. She remembered seeing it in other shows; Kusanagi had told her some other summer that it was just the old one from the bar in the lobby, which had been a donation by a local coffee shop. She could remember his smile as he'd told her, a little exasperated, a little conspiratorial, and it made her heart ache. 'No, focus,' she told herself crossly, before walking resolutely to where she needed to be for her first entrance. Of course, she had plenty of time, and in future rehearsals and performances she'd be able to spend most of Act One in the dressing room, but right now she had no desire to be there. She flashed back to Kanoe's comment, her tone disparaging under the guise of concern and compassion, and her already aching heart was licked by a tongue of angry flame from her belly.

"Alone with his tomatoes? I don't know…"

As if she were anyone to talk, when she and Yuuto were alone with their sex life and the sense of superiority it gave them. Yuzuriha flushed as her anger cooled and condensed into heavy guilt in her stomach. She didn't like thinking that way, it didn't make her feel any better, because it was unnecessary and because she had no idea if she was even close to accurate and because she didn't like to judge at the best of times. 'Especially considering my personal life isn't exactly puppies and rainbows,' she reminded herself, and the weight in her stomach spread out through her body. She sighed, trying to vent the feeling as best she could before her castmates joined her. She looked around, desperate for anything to distract her.

Someone, probably Nataku, had placed folding chairs about, and she sat down in one, her shadow long and spidery on the floor. She'd be lying if she said there wasn't part of her that was jealous of Kanoe. She and Yuuto had been together so long and were still obviously in love, like actually in love. She placed her elbows into her thighs and rested her chin in her hands, staring at the floor, chipped and scratched and covered in bits of glow tape. Clearly finding someone that perfect for you was possible because it happened to other people, real people, not just on TV or in movies. So why not her?

'Because I don't try,' she answered herself at once, leaden sadness threatening to weigh her down even more. Fortunately, at that moment she heard the rest of the cast leave the dressing rooms in a chattering crowd to find their places for the top of the act. She watched Subaru give Kamui a swift kiss on the lips before following Karen and Arashi on stage.

"Hold up, you three backstage too!" Came Fuuma's voice from the audience, no less loud and commanding from this vantage point. "We'll start from the first time the lights come up." Subaru, Arashi and Karen returned with looks of sarcastic persecution on their faces. Everyone stifled giggles as they took their places behind the screen, carefully avoiding the coils of electrical cable that powered it. "Everyone else is where they're supposed to be?" Nataku appeared suddenly in the gap between wings and screen. A few people waved at him, but he ignored them and returned to Fuuma.

"Yes."

"Good. Satsuki, kill the lights please." The lights all went off at once, and every bit of glow tape, new and old, shone in the sudden darkness. "Let me see it!" A pop beat sounded from every corner of the room, followed by a woman's voice. You're no good for me, baby you're no good for me. You're no good for me, but baby I want you, I want… The screen came on, casting its soft blue white light over the stage, clear and cold and diffuse. Subaru, Karen and Arashi took their places on stage, and Fuuma's lip curled as their shadows played across the screen. Diet Mountain Dew, baby New York City, never was there ever a girl so pretty. Do you think we'll be in love forever? Do you think we'll be in love…?

Satsuki brought up the rest of the stage lights and the music stopped abruptly to be replaced by a live broadcast of Tarara Boom De-ay played on an old fashioned radio. Everyone present knew that it was just a recording of Karen singing out in the lobby, but the effect was still convincing. The song continued for a few seconds longer while Karen stared out over the audience center stage, Subaru graded papers at the dining table and Arashi read a book on the couch. The song ended in applause, and there was just enough time to hear, "Thank you as always for tuning into WQXR-" before Subaru shut off the radio.

"Dad died a year ago today," he said, sharpening the focus in the room immediately. "May fifth." Fuuma leaned forward and narrowed his eyes at the stage, relishing the relative focus work provided. He felt cautiously as though the show was out of that in between stage where everything was muddy and he couldn't see where he was going. Nothing was really clear yet, obviously, but it seemed like everything they'd worked so hard for might actually be going somewhere and be worth something. After the last few days, it was heartening.

Backstage, Kusanagi, Kakyo and Keiichi stood waiting for their cues while everyone else sat in the folding chairs or paced about. From his seat beside Yuzuriha, Kamui caught Keiichi's eye. Keiichi mimed spitting at him and Kamui mimed it hitting him in the face. "Why are you guys being gross?" Yuzuriha demanded in a whisper. Kamui ignored her, but Kusanagi caught her eye and shook his head despairingly. Yuzuriha's blush glowed in the awkward backstage lights.

"Can we not?" Came Karen's weary voice from the stage, and Kusanagi called,

"Fuck both of you!" loudly in response.

"You're right, it's ridiculous," Kakyo conceded.

"It's beautiful out today, even though it's early," Subaru continued from his place at the dining table. "Eleven years ago, Dad was made a general and we all left New York. The city would either still be cold or that one week where it's warm but not hot and everything's in bloom. I can still remember it exactly. When I woke up this morning and actually felt the sun? Oh my god it was all I could think about." Everyone heard Fuuma's satisfied laugh at Subaru's sarcasm, then, "Will you please stop whistling, Maudie?"

Up in the lighting booth, Satsuki had her arms and legs crossed and was leaning back in her seat, surveying the stage, the actors and Fuuma through the glass she'd put back up to close off the booth. Her upper back was still painful, but she was pleased to see all her hard work put together and flowing rather than in pieces cut up in weird places by Fuuma's voice. Of course, after this run through he could turn everything on its head like he did last year, though she hoped having Seishiro in his ear keeping him focused all week would help. Although she appreciated Seishiro for usually taking her side in these situations, she found his and Fuuma's dynamic rather repellent a lot of the time. She rolled her eyes, wanting more and more to get this season over and done with.

"At least today I'm free, I'm home and I don't have a headache," said Subaru, again with that subtlest trace of sarcasm. "I even feel younger, though I'm still an old man at twenty eight."

"You talk too much shit, I can't listen to you anymore," Kakyo said, loudly, leading Keiichi on stage. Kusanagi followed slightly apart, immersed in his cell phone as he made his way to the couch.

"Are you okay?" Kamui whispered to Yuzuriha, once the three of them had disappeared around the screen.

"What? Yeah of course, why?"

"I dunno, you've just seemed off." Yuzuriha pressed her lips tightly together as she stared into his sincere face. He'd always been so perceptive.

"You managed to tear your eyes away from Subaru long enough to notice? I'm impressed, honestly!"

"Shut the fuck up," Kamui replied, conversationally, though he couldn't help but grin, and Yuzuriha herself hastily stifled a giggle.

"Things got weird after the party, that's all."

"What happened?" Kamui asked, his chest swelling and eyes narrowing as though he were preparing for a fight.

"Nothing bad!" she assured him, placing her hand on his forearm and giving it a squeeze. "Just like…" She smoothed the fabric of her dress, trying to find the words. "Punch just got me thinking, you know?"

"We've all been there," Kamui replied, consolingly, his demeanor softening at once. "You wanna talk about it?" A soft smile crossed Yuzuriha's lips as she stared into her friend's face. He already knew how she felt about Kusanagi, and she could tell him what Hokuto had said if she really had to. However, she wouldn't do it right now. Not at work. Not when there were even more people around to overhear.

"Later," she replied, softly, the promise making her feel better almost in spite of herself. Kamui nodded earnestly.

"I got you." On stage, Kusanagi let out a booming laugh, and Kamui took Yuzuriha's hand and squeezed it.

"No seriously, I've done fuck all since I graduated from medical school. Haven't even read a book, just random stuff online." Yuuto, who had been waiting backstage for that very cue, got to his feet at once. "See? I go on Facebook and see 'A woman did,' oh I don't know, something for a week 'and what happened blew our minds!'" Yuuto wrapped smartly on the back of the wings. "Oh shit, that's for me. Hold on!" Kusanagi appeared suddenly around the corner of the screen and came to stand sentinel by the prop table, ready and waiting for his cue to reenter with the espresso machine. Kanoe rose from her seat and also approached the prop table. She picked up an empty vase with a ribbon tied around it. There would be fresh flowers in it once the show opened.

"He's up to something," said Karen, narrowing her eyes after Kusanagi.

"Mm, he looked way too happy about whatever it was. Maybe it's a present?" Kakyo asked, sardonically.

"He's always doing shit like this," Subaru said, impatiently. He walked over to Karen and both of them looked expectantly at Arashi, who was still on the couch downstage right, thoroughly uninterested in the proceedings. However, under their gazes she got gracefully to her feet, saying, quietly,

"It's been six years and now I'm back. I'm home, Mother…" Her delivery was lyrical, almost as though she were reciting a metered poem. Fuuma smiled a wide, satisfied smile and Sorata's heart swelled in his chest.

"Where are you going?" Subaru asked, wearily.

"Home," Arashi replied, with dignity. However, before she could go anywhere, Subaru and Karen surrounded her.

"Why?" Karen demanded.

"It doesn't matter, I'll be back later," Arashi replied, dismissively. She hugged Karen goodbye. "Right after Dad died, when we held all those memorials and everything, there were at least thirty or forty people." She sounded sad, but completely matter of fact, though as she continued, her tone became more and more bitter. "And now there's hardly any of us, it's as fucking desolate as the view outside!" She gestured irritably at the screen, then ran her fingers through her hair. Subaru and Karen exchanged a look while Keiichi and Kakyo just raised their eyebrows. "Today's not a good day. I'm depressive, just ignore me. I'll talk to you later, okay?"

"Good lord," muttered Keiichi.

"Will you shut up?!" snapped Arashi.

'They should have parties every weekend if it makes them loosen up this much,' Fuuma thought, his chest swelling. For a split second, his mind flashed back to Seishiro, to their party, but was then distracted by the scene.

"Here, my darlings," said Kanoe, striding on stage with her vase of invisible flowers. "From the City Council, from Mr. Nathan!"

Yuuto kissed Kanoe as she passed him for her entrance, then waited until she'd disappeared around the edge of the screen before dropping into the seat beside Sorata, who asked, under his breath, "You all right?"

"Of course, just a little tired," Yuuto replied, surprised. "Why?"

"You just seemed really uncomfortable in the dressing room when-"

"Oh no, I assure you I wasn't," Yuuto replied, hoping the poor lighting was enough to hide his blush.

"I figured you'd have more to say, so then I wondered if we'd crossed a line, you know?" Yuuto forced a laugh, then fell silent as his mind jumped to Satsuki and his wife came backstage again. She sat down on his other side with a warm, affectionate smile, and his stomach scorched into a curl of hot guilt as he did his best to return it.

He had to talk to Satsuki and find out what was wrong, but he couldn't just go and see her now, could he? Not when they were working, but he did have quite a bit of time before he had to be on stage, and he didn't trust her not to leave the second Fuuma told them they were done for the day. He hesitated a moment longer, frozen in painful limbo, but then got to his feet abruptly as he came to his decision.

"Bathroom," he muttered to Kanoe before kissing her on the cheek. He hurried out from backstage, keeping his head bowed as though he could dodge any eyes following him. Not that he had any reason to worry about being scrutinized; no one else knew he was going to see Satsuki, and even then it was just to sort things out with her, a totally innocent endeavor. However, at the entrance to the lobby he almost collided with Nataku, and his casualness evaporated. "Sorry, bathroom!" he cried, stupidly, and Nataku's incredulous stare made him feel as though he were being X-rayed.

"Did partying make all of you forget to watch where you're going?" Nataku asked, coldly, before moving past Yuuto into the audience. Yuuto shook himself, his face burning, and hurried up to the lighting booth. He knocked, then pushed the door open.

Satsuki started at the noise and wheeled around in her seat. Her stomach contracted, her jaw clenched and her upper back throbbed painfully at the sight of Yuuto in her doorway. Immediately her mind flashed to him pulling her close, kissing her hard on the lips and bending her over the switchboard- but no. Her mind loved to play tricks like that on her, that was all. She crossed her legs and arms and glared at him where he stood. For a moment he quailed under her look, like a little boy caught doing something naughty, and Satsuki knew a surge of righteous contempt. "Yes?" she asked, her venomous tone contrasting sharply with her rather demure posture.

"Satsuki, are you angry with me about something?" Yuuto asked. It was weird to speak so plainly, but also weirdly relieving to finally put it out there. A full ten seconds passed in ringing silence, then Satsuki's eyes narrowed piercingly behind her glasses.

"No," she spat, "why?" Her contempt pushed uncomfortably against the constricted walls of her belly and chest.

"Well, Sunday night," Yuuto paused and swallowed, trying to find his words and keep his focus. He just wanted to clear the air, there was no reason to get worked up. Satsuki watched, seething, and wondered what he'd say. Possibilities chased each other through her mind, but she had counters for all of them ready. "I'm sorry I didn't keep better track of time," he decided on, finally. "Starting late and leaving you outside was fucked up, and I'm sorry." The words hung between them, and she remained silent, noticing with some satisfaction that he shivered, as though her cold fury was chilling the very air in the room. The silence dragged horribly as Yuuto waited for Satsuki to accept his apology and for things to go back to normal. That was how things always went with Kanoe- 'Satsuki isn't Kanoe,' he reminded himself. 'Isn't that the whole point?' Still he waited, but all he got was her cold stare.

Satsuki couldn't have said how his words made her feel, except that the contempt bubbling in her stomach suddenly burned shockingly. He was trying to apologize, to speak to her normally after all that had happened between them, and this was the best he could come up with? But then she reminded herself he was all surface level, all excuses and rationalizations and justifications. He was all words, and she hated every single one of them. "I see," she replied, eventually. Yuuto gave another shiver, but this one carried an aftershock of frustration. His hands balled themselves into fists.

"Is there, I mean I'm not sure what else I can apologize for here," he said, trying valiantly for diplomacy. Satsuki raised her eyebrows as the hot contempt in her stomach bubbled up into her chest, her vocal cords and her jaw.

"That sounds like a personal problem," she told him, which was perfectly true. He'd only apologized to make himself feel better, but truly what could he even apologize for? I'm sorry for being a weak little puke who won't take responsibility for hooking up with me and gets off on his pseudo-progressive bullshit? "Don't you have a cue soon?" she asked, hoping he'd just take the hint and be out. However,

"Satsuki, come on!" he pleaded, taking an impatient step towards her. "I know you're angry with me and I don't-"

"You know?" Satsuki asked, her voice lowering as contempt warmed and lubricated her voice box. "You don't know a damn thing. Get out before one of us misses a cue."

"No! If I don't know, then tell me!" Yuuto cried, taking another step towards her and pressing his hand to his chest. "Nothing will get solved if we don't communicate!" The word seemed to puncture a hole in Satsuki's contracted stomach, allowing the feelings within to pour out into the rest of her body. She was on her feet before she realized what she was doing.

"Don't," she spat, and Yuuto shuddered as though the word had stung him. "Don't say that to me right now."

"What?!" Yuuto cried out, then, catching himself, lowered his voice at once. "You're clearly angry and I'm just trying to solve whatever the problem is! Why are you shutting me out?" Satsuki closed her eyes, unable to stand even looking at him.

"There is no problem," she said, as calmly as she could, staring at the red black insides of her eyelids. This was also true: she had no right to be angry about their circumstances when she'd been fully aware of the situation going in, though of course that was exactly why this was all bullshit. No one had rights to their feelings when they didn't fit in with their structure, the very thing they were trying to subvert. What did she expect? That something would have changed just from them hooking up one on one? "I'm not angry with you," she said, after a moment, opening her eyes again. This was also true. As she stared into his flushed face, his bright, almost golden eyes, she felt nothing but disgust. "So I'd appreciate it if you didn't talk to me like I was at one of your exploratory workshops or whatever you call them-" Yuuto gave another shudder, "-with you and your wife."

"Hold on, that's not fair!" Yuuto snapped, his flush deepening. He felt totally uncomfortable in his anger, but refused to allow this kind of disrespect. "You don't need to bring up what we do without you like that, it's not your business and we-"

"It's not?" Satsuki asked, coldly incredulous. "Are you sure?"

"I-" but Yuuto faltered, and Satsuki smiled a deeply satisfied smile.

'That's fucking right,' she thought, her entire body throbbing with disgust and superiority. She wanted to shatter him, break him into pieces, separate him from his and Kanoe's nonsense and finally see him raw and true.

"You know that wasn't-" again Yuuto faltered as a tidal wave of guilt rose up and crashed inside him, making his stomach lurch and throat constrict as though he'd gagged. Was that what she was angry about? That he'd made that mistake with her? He hated feeling this way, and he was furious at being in this situation and both Satsuki and himself for putting him there. "That was a one time thing and it wasn't allowed and-"

"Allowed?" Satsuki asked, gloriously scornful. She'd never seen him discomposed, much less really and truly angry before, but it felt good, as though she were siphoning off her own negative feelings into him, watching someone stuck in this situation besides her suffer for a change. "Do you have to be home when the street lights come on too?" Yuuto's expression hardened.

"Don't say it like that," Yuuto shot back, his voice lowering.

"Like how?" Satsuki asked, almost lazily.

"Like I'm not equal in all of this, like I'm some kind of victim!" Satsuki let out a harsh, derisive laugh. "I'm serious, that's fucked up, Satsuki! It is all equal, we agreed to it together-"

"Good for you," Satsuki interrupted. "I've heard all of your speeches about rules and boundaries before, I don't fucking care."

"Really? You don't care, really?" Yuuto asked, before he could stop himself. "You care when you call them ridiculous, or when you give me a hard time, or when you don't respect them!" Satsuki closed her eyes against the rush of revulsion she felt at the words, and when she opened them she was fuming.

"You've got some nerve putting that all on me," she said, through gritted teeth. "Get the fuck out of here before you miss your cue."

"No!" Yuuto cried, clutching his chest with one hand and gesturing wildly with the other. "You can't just make all these assumptions and then shut down when you might be wrong! Stop it, you're better than that!" His voice broke and he swallowed the sudden burning in his throat and stared determinedly back at Satsuki, at the face he'd so long admired and had once smiled at him discreetly but now showed nothing but anger.

'You're better than that, who the fuck do you think you are?' she thought, furiously, but all she said was, "Go." Yuuto's face fell.

"Satsuki, please!" His anger had fueled her, but now he just sounded sad, and she hated it. She wanted to scream at him, or pull inwards and withdraw and shut him out. However, she found herself stuck, able to do either.

"What?" she seethed, "what do you want?" He said nothing, but of course he didn't, because he'd never have a good answer for her, and his expression sagged under the question as he realized it too. However, he stood his ground, staring her hard in the face. He had to do something to make her understand, make her forgive him, make her…

As if in slow motion, he gave one last pathetic little moan, stepped forward, took her face into his hands and pulled her into a kiss. Satsuki cried out in surprise against his lips, but then melted into it, throwing her arms around him and pulling him flush up against her. He gave another soft moan and backed her up against the lighting board, shoving his thigh between her legs and running his fingers through her hair. He wasn't thinking anymore, he was barely feeling: his entire spectrum of emotions had converged into the white hot passion now surging through his body. Satsuki gasped softly and began to grind against his thigh, already craving more friction. It had been like this last time too; no wasted words, no bullshit, just pure and honest expression, and it made her crazy.

"Here!" she gasped, between kisses, seizing Yuuto's wrist and shoving his hand up her shirt. Yuuto groaned into her mouth and squeezed her warm, heavy breast while his other hand reached blindly for the zipper on her shorts. Satsuki shivered and dragged her hands down his chest to undo his pants at once, moaning softly as she felt his erection, already straining against his underwear.

"Oh god," Yuuto gasped, softly, thrusting into her hand and sliding her shorts down. Satsuki broke their kiss only to step out of them and kick them aside, the chilled air on her hot, flushed skin making her shiver again. Yuuto let out a moan of longing and his erection throbbed hopefully as he stared between her legs. Satsuki would have stayed there and relished it, let him groan and drool, but right now she needed more and wouldn't have waited even if they'd had time. She pulled him into another kiss and helped him slide his pants halfway down his thighs. He backed her up once more into the console, and Satsuki took hold of his erection and pressed it up against herself, hot and full and slippery. "Oh god," Yuuto gasped again, any and all remaining judgment or reservations deserting him in the promise the sensation held. "Are you sure?"

"Yes!" Satsuki cried, impatiently. With another deep, passionate kiss, Yuuto thrust deep inside her, pushing her up onto the console. Satsuki knew a moment of true ecstasy as he filled her, as he was all hers, and she wrapped her arms and legs tight around him, wanting to be as close as she could even through their clothes. He immediately began to move, pulling out and thrusting back inside at an almost frantic speed, though he maintained the perfect angle for her pleasure.

Satsuki moaned encouragingly and Yuuto brought one hand between them to press his fingertips against her clit. He knew he wouldn't last long, and he didn't care, but even in his fogged brain he knew he had to take care of her first. Satsuki muffled her cry against his lips as her inner walls throbbed gratefully and her thighs began to shake. It set Yuuto's body on fire and he kept going, pleasing her as hard and as fast as he could, desperate to make her feel good. Satsuki dug her fingers into his upper back and buried her face in his neck, gasping and shuddering against his skin. The pleasure inside her had already built to the bursting point, but her mind was too deliciously fogged to even think of warning him. She came hard against his fingers and around his erection, her body shuddering violently with the force of it, and Yuuto swallowed any noise she might have made in a deep, passionate kiss. She went limp in his arms except for the occasional residual shudder and buried her face in his neck again. She breathed in his sweat, his aftershave and his shampoo and moaned longingly on her exhale. "Are you close?" she managed to whisper in his ear.

"Y-yeah," he gasped, his erection throbbing as he said it. The spasm of her pleasure had almost been enough to send him over the edge, but he'd held on, wanting to relish it.

"Keep going." Yuuto nodded gratefully and was back to it, fucking her hard and fast and deep, steadying himself with one hand behind her on the console and the other around her waist. It didn't take much else.

"I'm gonna come!"

"Inside!" Yuuto bit down on her shoulder as he came, deep inside her, pleasure rushing out of him from every nerve of his body, making him shudder violently and gasp in her ear. He managed a few more weak thrusts, draining himself completely, before sagging against her.

"Oh my god," he moaned into her neck. He nosed at her hair, her ear, her jaw, before she turned and caught his lips in a kiss. Yuuto groaned into her mouth and they stayed there for what felt like a long time, though it was probably only a minute or so, kissing softly but deeply and holding each other close.

When they eventually broke apart, Yuuto felt strangely detached from his body. He watched himself pull out, his erection deflating in his hands as he zipped up again. Bizarrely, his first thought was, 'Hokuto will kill me if I get stains on these pants.' Then, a split second later, 'Hokuto, oh wait-' The thought jump started his brain. 'Oh fuck,' he thought, as who and where he was and what he'd been doing clunked back into place unpleasantly. He was at rehearsal, he'd come to talk to Satsuki in between cues and they'd just… "I'm so sorry!" he blurted out, stupidly.

"What?" Satsuki asked, the snap in her voice dulled by satisfaction as she redressed.

"I," Yuuto began, but then stared past her, his brain and expression blanking. A moment's silence. "I'll," but he just kissed her on the lips, because he couldn't stand to just leave her, and hurried back downstairs, uncomfortably aware that in trying to solve one problem, he'd created so many more.

Satsuki watched him go, a strange numbness spreading out from her beating heart. She crossed her arms and turned around to look out the plastic panel onto the stage to see where they were. Fortunately, she hadn't missed any cues, and Yuuto made it backstage in time for his first line. From her numb observatory, Satsuki watched Yuuto enter, heard him deliver his lines with Kirsch's characteristic grandiosity and pomp. She watched him try to be loving and affectionate with Arashi, only to get rebuffed and have no idea why.

For some reason Satsuki felt her throat burn through her numbness and she turned away, unable to look. How disgusting, just going back on stage and being up in other people's space as if he hadn't just fucked her senseless. The fact that it was Arashi, who was so sheltered and clueless, made it so much worse. Satsuki hugged herself tighter and sat down in her chair, finding residual pockets of satisfaction and disgust as she moved. Her heart continued to pound in her chest, begging for a cue, for anything to distract her.

In the audience, Fuuma noticed nothing of Yuuto's leaving and reappearing, he was too absorbed in the rest of the act. He sat with his elbows on his knees and chin in his hands as Kamui led Yuzuriha downstage center, away from everyone else at the table upstage, looking almost silhouetted against the blue white light of the screen. "I don't even know, just, please…" Kamui begged, softly, before tenderly taking Yuzuriha's face in his hands and kissing her. Satsuki waited as long as she could stand it before killing all the lights and playing the next sound cue. Diet Mountain Dew, baby New York City, can we get it down low, down and gritty? Do you think we'll be in love forever? Do you think we'll be in love…?

Under the cover of the music, everyone rushed about to grab props, move set pieces and change backstage. Kamui sat down on the couch with a book, and the music faded into background noise as the screen lit up in Act Two's deep, purplish black. Kamui allowed a few beats, then turned on the bedside table lamp to begin the scene.

Backstage, everyone settled themselves into chairs or on the floor, listening for cues and talking among themselves in whispers. Yuuto, however, immediately rushed past all of them into the dressing room. A few of his castmates looked after him curiously, but none of them said anything.

Being on stage had been helpfully distracting, but now the chaos at the edges of Yuuto's mind was seeping in like rising water. He sped up his pace, the long black hallway seeming to close in around him, before he finally wrenched the dressing room door open, stepped inside and slammed it behind him. He sighed and leaned against the closed door, covering his eyes against the great geyser of emotion gushing up in his chest.

It was impossible to pick apart separate feelings, let alone identify them. All he knew was that it was painful and overwhelming. However, through it all, one question remained inescapable: how could he have let this happen, not just once, but twice?! He wanted to scream, or cry, things he normally never felt like doing except on stage. How did Satsuki always manage to draw this much out of him, take his footing right out from under him? This never happened with Kanoe, they barely raised their voices at each other, let alone actually fought! Satsuki wasn't exactly firey or argumentative either of course, but the way she'd looked at him, both Sunday night and just now… Kanoe had never looked at him like that, but… Maybe she would in light of his second transgression…

'What is wrong with me?!' he thought, furiously, fighting all of his feelings as hard as he could. He wouldn't break down. He'd say calm and handle the situation rationally. He closed his eyes and wrapped his arms tight around himself and took deep breaths in through his nose. However, what he really wanted was another person there, but he couldn't ask Kanoe to comfort him now.

On stage, Kanoe kissed Kamui goodnight and exited through the wings. She looked around for Yuuto, but didn't see him. She hoped he wasn't getting sick or something, close as they were to opening. She sat down beside Karen, took off her shoes and began to rub her feet. Karen smiled.

"I admire your commitment," she whispered.

"It's nothing," Kanoe whispered back. "You should have seen the shoes I wore when I did a stage adaptation of Venus in Fur."

"Oh I'm sure!" Karen replied, smiling, then added, "that must have been a fantastic show."

"Well, I was an understudy," Kanoe amended. "But when I did get to perform I had a wonderful time!"

"You must have!" The lights on stage all went out, and a moment later Kamui came through the wings, shaking his head and dropping into the seat beside Yuzuriha. "Do you want to take our places?" Karen murmured to Kakyo, on her other side.

"What?" he asked, even more out of sorts without Transeau to distract and focus him.

"Let's go take our places," Karen said, a little more firmly.

"Oh! Yes let's." They stood up and headed out behind the audience to the lobby door.

"It's different, right? Not being able to sit and watch," whispered Karen.

"It is," Kakyo replied, gratefully. "I keep thinking I've missed cues, is that weird?"

"Oh no, not at all, and even if you did we've all been there. It's not the end of the world." Kakyo seriously doubted this, but appreciated it all the same. Karen was always so kind to him. "I once missed a cue because I was reading a book backstage," she confessed. Kakyo suppressed a laugh.

"That's so… Innocent?"

"It is, right? The seventh Harry Potter book had just come out so I wasn't the only one. There's a photo somewhere of the whole cast backstage reading it, I'll see if I can find it." Kakyo hastily suppressed another laugh. On stage they could see Sorata and Arashi moving around each other, narrowly avoiding kisses and touches. At the party, everyone had given them so much space without asking, as though there were some silent agreement. Looking back, it made him feel like a child: grown ups communicating in code words and implications and knowing looks while he sat there in anxious darkness. It wasn't like he didn't understand, it had just been a long time, and no one he had those feelings towards would reciprocate anyway. He blushed deeply.

"Are you feeling all right?" Karen asked. Kakyo sighed, insistence that all was well halfway to his mouth, but then he swallowed it. He looked at Karen in her grey shift dress, side lit by the stage lights, expression soft and receptive.

"I'm fine, but um, did Hokuto seem weird to you yesterday?"

"In what way?" Karen asked. Kakyo though for a moment, unsure of exactly what to say. How could he describe it, and describe it without giving himself away? At the party, he'd held her hand at the top of the stairs and she'd stared so deeply into his eyes, only to avoid looking him in the face the next day, despite being her usual cheerful self.

"I think she might be mad at me," he said, and his stomach contracted fearfully.

"Did she tell you that?" Karen asked, her expression softening sympathetically.

"No, but," Kakyo's heart was now pounding.

"Kakyo?"

"Sorry, what?"

"Breathe," she said, firmly but kindly. "If she didn't tell you, wait to ask her what's going on before you panic, okay? Trust me." Kakyo took a deep breath in through his nose and nodded on his exhale. After the way Hokuto had brushed him off yesterday, he doubted he'd be able to get a word in, but he supposed in the short term Karen had a point. He knew from what she'd told him about her childhood that she'd spent a lot of time assuming people were angry with her. At the time it had been a survival strategy, but now it only got in her way. He understood completely how that felt.

"Yeah," he said, after a moment. "Thank you."

On stage, Sorata lifted Arashi into his arms and laid her down gracefully over the dining table, and Karen and Kakyo began to make their way up the aisle. "I'm so tired!" Karen exclaimed, and Kakyo's focus shifted immediately back to Transeau. He placed his hand on Karen's lower back, and she turned to smile at him. "Thank you for bringing me home."

Satsuki activated the would-be porch light as they came up the stairs, and Sorata and Arashi scrambled off the table and away from each other, flushed and sweaty and gasping. In the audience, Nataku made a noise of disgust which Fuuma ignored, while backstage Yuuto finally emerged from the dressing room. He was feeling rather jumpy but managed to stay calm and focused as he sat down beside Kanoe. She took his hand, though he wished she wouldn't.

The rest of the scene passed quickly and smoothly, ending with Karen alone, center stage, singing softly, "So is the girl, you used to call, the Queen of New York City…" Satsuki killed all the lights. You're no good for me, baby you're no good for me. You're no good for me, but baby I want you, I want… The song faded out sweetly into silence.

Fuuma applauded loudly, then called, "Take ten!"

Satsuki brought up the house lights before sprinting down her stairs and into the bathroom. She didn't look at herself in the mirror as she rushed into a stall, slammed the door and locked it. She leaned against the side of the stall, eyes closed and heart slamming against the inside of her chest.

Without the helpful distraction of sound and lighting cues, everything that had happened came flooding into her mind and body, intense and visceral and corrosive. She wanted to cry out, vent the unpleasant feelings somehow, but of course she wouldn't even if she could. She took off her glasses, pressed the heel of one hand between her eyes and wrapped her other arm around herself. She tried to gather herself, but the harder she tried the worse it all seemed to become. She could still feel Yuuto's touches and kisses, hear his breath and his moans, and for one eternal second, it all seemed to overwhelm her, possess her. This had happened last time too, and she'd never felt anything like it with anyone else. Was this what kept her running back? Chasing him despite knowing he was unattainable? She knew she was getting scraps, that she'd always get scraps, and it seemed almost worth it when the scraps affected her so powerfully. Satsuki's stomach lurched and she clapped her hand to her mouth. 'No,' she thought, furiously, as hatred and disgust rushed up her throat, highjacking her brain and making it spin sickeningly. She also couldn't remember ever feeling this angry at anyone else, but she had no right to be this angry, she knew what this was, she'd-

At that moment, the door swung open and two sets of footsteps echoed off the tile floor and walls, making her jump. "Really, it's not a big deal," came Yuzuriha's voice.

'Great,' thought Satsuki. Under the cover of Yuzuriha's next words, she sank down onto the toilet and pulled her legs into her chest, hoping they wouldn't notice her and feeling utterly pathetic.

"What she said just bugged me, that's all." Yuzuriha leaned against the sink, still dressed in her silky pink nightgown from the second act.

"I know," Arashi replied, carefully reapplying her lipstick in the mirror and watching Yuzuriha out of the corner of her eye. It was a transparent red Karen had leant her, assuring her how nice it looked on stage. Arashi had just taken her word for it, but now thought she might have a point. Yuzuriha crossed her arms, and Arashi waited.

"She didn't have to come at him about his tomatoes," Yuzuriha snapped, eventually. In spite of herself, Satsuki was suddenly curious. Who wanted to talk shit about Kusanagi?

"She didn't," Arashi agreed, her tone cautious despite how much she agreed. Kanoe's comment had reminded her of all the disparaging things her aunt liked to say about what other people loved.

"Like what the fuck?" Yuzuriha cried, her tone thick with righteous anger. "Alone with his tomatoes. Maybe that's all he needs, who the fuck are you?!" Her voice broke and she shuddered as a fresh deluge of hopelessness fell in upon her. Arashi's heart ached for her, but she said nothing. "Sorry," Yuzuriha said, thickly, looking up at the ceiling as if to drain away the tears collecting in the corners of her eyes. "It's not a big deal, Kanoe has something to say about everyone, I-"

"It's different when it's someone you care about though, isn't it?" Arashi asked, hesitantly, covering Satsuki's tiny noise of disgust. Silence fell, thick and painful, over the bathroom. Yuzuriha finally faced Arashi, her eyes now swimming with tears. "I'm sorry!" exclaimed Arashi at once, terrified.

"What makes you say that?" Yuzuriha asked in a brittle voice. She felt exposed, just as she had the night of the party.

"I'm sorry," Arashi said again, her voice much higher than usual. Had she said the wrong thing? Was Yuzuriha upset with her now? Was everything ruined? "I just… All I meant was…" Yuzuriha blinked, and her tears slid down her face. "Oh," Arashi breathed, and with a sudden rush of understanding she felt her heart break, each shard now beating sharply in her chest. "I didn't realize…"

"Does everyone know?!" Yuzuriha burst out, slightly hysterically. Her emotion frightened Arashi more. She had no idea what to do, how to comfort her. In the bathroom stall, Satsuki screwed up her eyes. She didn't want to listen to this. She really didn't want to listen to this. "At the party Hokuto said I should talk to Kusanagi, tell him how I feel, she said! Like she's anyone to talk! When she's pretending Kakyo's not-" but she broke off with a strangled sob, tears now pouring down her face. Still frightened, but determined to be there for her friend, Arashi opened her arms. Yuzuriha fell into them, crying hard into her shoulder. Arashi closed her eyes, feeling deeply out of place in this caregiving role, but doing her best.

"Shh," she said, quietly into Yuzuriha's hair. "For what it's worth I had no idea you felt that way, when I said 'care about' all I mean was, well it doesn't matter, I'm sorry…" Yuzuriha heaved a heavy sigh. "It's all right…"

Satsuki glared at the scene through the crack between stall and door, knowing a deep contempt and latching onto it for dear life. Why were they being so dramatic? Everyone here had feelings for someone else, why did it have to be such a big fucking deal? Was all this hugging and crying really necessary? But then Satsuki realized just how isolated she felt in that moment, hiding from colleagues in a bathroom stall like some tragic middle school student. Was this really any less dramatic? She closed her eyes, hoping desperately for it to be over.

Eventually, Yuzuriha got control of herself and let go of Arashi, who seized a fistfull of tissues from the box on the counter and handed them to her. "Sorry," she choked, sniffing and wiping her eyes. "This is so stupid, I'm going crazy over nothing…"

'Yes,' Satsuki thought, coldly.

"No," interjected Arashi, but,

"Sorry," Yuzuriha said again, shaking her head. "Let's just get back to work, we're gonna be late!" She was trying her best to sound normal and forced a smile, because she hated to see Arashi looking so worried.

"If you're sure," Arashi replied, hesitantly. Yuzuriha nodded and began to fix her smudged make up in the mirror, though it didn't make much of a difference against how red and puffy her eyes were. "Yuzuriha?"

"Yeah?"

"I um, I doubt I'll be much help, but if you need to talk to someone, I'm here." Arashi meant it, and she hoped Yuzuriha knew that. She seemed to, because she smiled a watery smile, then,

"I wish I knew what to do."

"I wish I did too." Yuzuriha sighed resignedly, though she was still trying valiantly to smile. "It'll be all right," Arashi continued, because she could think of nothing else to say. Yuzuriha sniffed.

"I hope so," she replied, wearily, running her fingers through her hair. "It just feels like… I got so used to how things were, it didn't occur to me that they could be any different. Does that make sense?"

"It does," replied Arashi, and she meant that too. Satsuki shuddered and dug her fingernails into her upper arms.

'Even if things could be different, would you want them to be?'

"Yeah," sighed Yuzuriha. A pause. "Let's just go back to rehearsal, okay?"

"Okay," Arashi replied, her tone as supportive and cajoling as she could make it.

Satsuki heard the door open, then swing shut, and the sound echoed in the sudden, empty silence. She waited a few seconds before getting to her feet. She actually used the bathroom, the whole reason she'd snuck out of the lighting booth in the first place, then unlocked the door. It creaked open and she stepped forward to wash her hands, looking anywhere but at her reflection in the mirror behind it.

"It didn't occur to me that things could be any different."

The words bounced off the insides of her skull, crawled under her skin and twisted her stomach. Things could be different for Yuzuriha if she really did have feelings for Kusanagi (Satsuki had had no idea, both because she didn't care and because Yuzuriha was good at hiding it) all she'd have to do would be to talk to him. It was simple. She had a choice, but instead of doing anything she was wallowing and making everything needlessly complicated, just like everyone here loved to do.

Satsuki reflected upon her own circumstances, which were also needlessly complicated. She shut off the water and seized a paper towel rather aggressively. What was the point of Yuuto coming to talk to her today?! How could he possibly think of apologizing when he refused to take responsibility? When he was angry at her for his own fucking choice?! She screwed up her eyes. She hated him for making her feel this way and this much when it shouldn't have mattered at all. She was supposed to be their third to get out her attraction to him. It was just supposed to be work and sex, that was it, so why had he broken his stupid, arbitrary rule for her twice?

As she threw out the paper towel, it occurred to her to actually wonder about his motivation. She'd been working under the assumption that he was just acting under desire and instinct, not really using his brain. That was how most people behaved, after all. At last she faced herself in the mirror, her shrewd eyes behind her glasses, downturned mouth and short hair tied back in a ponytail. She looked away again at once. She wasn't beautiful enough to lure him away from Kanoe, conspicuously gorgeous and everything a man like him would want. But if that wasn't the reason, what was? He hadn't just fucked her and let her be, he'd sought her out to speak to her, more than once in fact. He couldn't actually have other feelings towards her, could he?

Satsuki's stomach lurched again and she pressed her lips tightly together. It was as though she'd been walking along a familiar path only to have it suddenly lead her to the edge of a cliff. She tried to reassure herself that he couldn't have any deeper feelings for her. He was very much in love with his wife, as they constantly reminded everyone, unless that was all compensation? Satsuki shuddered and shook her head, her lips still pressed tightly together. No no no. She wouldn't go there. Whatever his feelings were or were not, they were his problem, except that he was making them her problem. Satsuki shuddered and straightened up.

"Fuck this," she muttered, the words sharp in her throat. Without a backwards look, she stormed from the bathroom and back into the theater just as Fuuma was calling his cast to order. She caught sight of Yuuto in the crowd, looking dazed, but when they made eye contact he started and averted his gaze. Satsuki knew a rush of painful contempt as she climbed back up to the lighting booth.

"So far so good?" Fuuma asked, loudly, and his cast nodded and made noises of agreement. "Good. Change the set for Act Three, then places." Everyone obeyed at once, swapping the dining room for the bedroom before taking their places backstage or in the aisles. Satsuki killed the lights dispassionately, then turned on the screen and the first sound cue, a beautiful but heavy guitar riff, then finished with the would-be emergency vehicle light. Fuuma's lip curled. He couldn't help but feel pleased with himself. The act proceeded smoothly, so smoothly in fact that it distracted him totally from thoughts of Seishiro.

"What the fuck, tonight…" Karen said, quietly to Subaru, the only other person on the shadowy stage with her at the end of the act. "Jackson?"

"Mm?"

"Did you hear the brigade is leaving? They're going somewhere far away."

"That's just a rumor," Subaru replied, sounding exhausted.

"We'll be all alone here, Jackson!" Karen said, just as exhausted.

"Yeah," he replied, putting his arm around her.

"Transeau's a good guy, right? I'll tell him, we'll get together!" She buried her face in Subaru's chest. "But please, promise me we'll go back to New York!" Satsuki killed the lights again, but there was no music for this transition as per Fuuma's instructions. Subaru and Karen exited, smiling weakly at their castmates. Kamui sprang to his feet and hugged Subaru tightly, and he sighed heavily in his arms.

"You're so good in that scene," Kamui breathed in his ear. Subaru laughed softly and kissed him on the cheek. The house lights came on again, illuminating backstage in shafts between the screen and wings.

"Keep going!" Fuuma called, though of course during performances there would be another intermission here. Subaru and Kamui let go of each other reluctantly and headed back on stage to help with the set change.

Yuzuriha watched them from a distance, marvelling at how easy it all seemed for them. They'd had no problem saying how they felt, and it had worked out beautifully. Clearly this was possible for other people, so what was different for her and Kusanagi? Well, many things, age and proximity to each other during the off season for a start. She sighed as she carried her assigned props to their rightful places, watching Kusanagi, Yuuto, Subaru, Sorata and Kamui lift the bed and carry it backstage, feeling more stuck than ever.

Once the set was changed, everyone took their places for the final act. Yet again Satsuki killed the lights, but it was for a much shorter time. She brought up the screen and played the first sound cue. A rather morose voice began to sing, accompanied by a much happier backing track. All I need is some sunshine… All I need… All I need is some sun… shine… All I need… Lastly she brought up the stage lights, illuminating Kusanagi, Yuuto, Karen and Kakyo, who opened with,"The brigade is leaving today, it's the end of an era!"

"This might just work, shh!" Fuuma muttered to Nataku, who of course ignored him. A smile broke out across Fuuma's face and remained there until he jumped at the gunshot heralding Transeau's death at the end of the act.

"Let them all cry!" Kusanagi proclaimed, resignedly, "get it out. Tarara boom de-ay, I sit in gloom all day. Who gives a fuck?" Fuuma could feel the scene closing in upon them. "Tarara boom de-ay, I sit in gloom all day, who gives a fuck?"

"I wish I knew," said Subaru. The entire theater went dark, and as the rest of the cast made its way on stage for what would eventually be the curtain call, the song from the top of the act began to play again. I found empathy, from madness… Deliverance, from malaise… My heart is filled with gladness… And you're the only spirit that I crave… All I need… The lights came up again, revealing the whole cast standing in a line, holding hands. Black water, black… Water…

"Stop!" Fuuma called, and the music cut off. He stood up, and for a moment the cast tensed, but then saw he was grinning like an idiot. "That looked pretty fucking good from where I'm standing," he proclaimed, "how did it feel?"

"Great!" Keiichi cried at once, and everyone laughed and nodded in agreement.

"Fantastic," replied Fuuma. "We'll work out curtain call later. For now just take…" He consulted his phone. "Twenty, and we'll start working more closely." Everyone rushed off stage in different directions, talking and laughing. Subaru followed Kamui and Keiichi back to their dressing room to retrieve his cigarettes and cellphone. No texts, but he raised his eyebrows at a voicemail from Hokuto. He called her back at once without bothering to listen to it.

"Hello?"

"Hey- one second, Kamui. Hokuto? You called me?"

"I did. Are you on break now?"

"Yes, for twenty minutes. Why?"

"Can we meet up? I want to talk to you about something." Subaru's brow furrowed and Kamui and Keiichi stopped chattering at once.

"Of course, is everything okay?"

"Yeah! It's no big deal, I just want your opinion on something." This did nothing to assuage Subaru's concern. "Meet me in front of the Igarashi?"

"Sure, see you in a bit." He hung up and shoved his phone, cigarettes and lighter into his back pocket.

"What's up?" Kamui asked immediately, his eyes wide. Subaru couldn't help but smile and kissed him reassuringly on the lips.

"Hokuto. I'll see you after break, okay?" Kamui nodded. He and Keiichi bid Subaru goodbye, and he was out the door with a wave over his shoulder. Out in the lobby, he spotted his sister at once, smiling and waving on the other side of the glass. "Hey," he said, pushing the door open and approaching her. Her smile vanished the moment he lit a cigarette and took a long drag.

"You have some nerve, smoking in your costume in front of me."

"I do," Subaru agreed, exhaling smoke away from her. Hokuto just shook her head, seized his upper arm and dragged him down the winding gravel path that led to the Apapa and Ohkawa. It was another beautiful day. The leaves and grass seemed to glow in the bright, clear sunlight and cloudless sky. Gravel crunched under their feet, insects hummed in the distance and trees rustled in a light breeze.

"How was rehearsal?" Hoktuo asked, still holding Subaru's arm.

"Great! I'm sure we'll be in trouble for something later, but-"

"That's a good start!"

"Mm." Subaru took a patient drag from his cigarette in the moment's silence that followed.

"Is Kakyo doing okay?" Hokuto asked, as casually as she could.

"As far as I know," Subaru replied, then, knowing they only had twenty minutes, "wouldn't you do better to ask him that?" Their path wound them around the back of the Apapa, where there was a small pond full of frogs basking on rocks. Subaru smiled fondly and took extra care to exhale down wind of them.

"We need time apart," replied Hokuto, finally letting go of Subaru's arm.

"What does that mean?" he asked, laughing at her gesture rather than her words, but she gave him a nasty look anyway. "I'm serious! And I'm listening." Hokuto glared at him a moment longer for good measure, but then sighed heavily and wrapped her arms around herself defensively.

"Do you remember that huge fight we had? Where you told me to back off and leave you alone?"

"We had a few of those as I recall," Subaru replied, tilting his head to the side. Hokuto resisted cuffing him on the upper arm.

"It was like that," she said, evasively. Subaru paused with his cigarette halfway to his mouth.

"Kakyo actually told you he needed space?" he asked, simultaneously stunned and impressed. However, when Hokuto shook her head and averted her gaze, Subaru changed tact at once. "What happened?" he asked, still ignoring his cigarette.

"Nothing," replied Hokuto, "but on Sunday night…" And she told Subaru all that had taken place after they'd returned to their dorm. How they'd hung out on the porch, how he'd started to tell her too much, how she'd begged him to have the conversation sober, how heartbroken he'd looked through his drunkenness as they'd said good night. She left out what she'd said to Yuzuriha, though, because even thinking about it was enough to make her skin crawl with guilt. Subaru just listened, his eyes soft and receptive, occasionally taking drags from his cigarette or nodding or adding the odd "mmhmm." Although it was helpful to say it all out loud, it wasn't instructive, and the moment she was finished she looked to her brother for guidance. Subaru, however, finished his cigarette, snubbed it out on the metal lid of a trash can and threw it out before saying anything.

"Did you end up having that conversation sober?" Hokuto watched insects skimming the surface of the pond for a moment.

"No. I was hoping he wouldn't remember." She closed her eyes, her insides squirming guiltily.

"I don't blame you," Subaru assured her at once, "but that'd be way too easy."

"I know," snapped Hokuto, facing Subaru, "but what am I going to say? This is all way too soon, your feelings are skewed because of circumstance? That's so patronizing! I-"

"Can I please ask you something?" Subaru interrupted, as kindly as he could.

"If you feel you must," replied Hokuto, still rather snappishly.

"How do you feel about Kakyo?" Silence fell between them and Hokuto just looked back at Subaru, utterly perplexed.

"What?"

"You keep talking about Kakyo. How he feels, what his intentions are, what will happen to him." The corner of his mouth twitched. "This is the longest I think I've ever heard you go without talking about yourself."

"Oh shut up!" However, the point nudged its way into Hokuto's mind and heart like a splinter, uncomfortable and awkward and impossible to ignore. She fixed her gaze once more upon the pond, staring this time at the largest frog as he slid gracefully off his rock into the water.

"We have the same problem," Subaru reminded Hokuto, kindly, "great with other people's shit, not so great with our own." Hokuto snorted despairingly. He was right of course. They'd known this about themselves and each other for years, especially when it started getting them into trouble. Another frog leapt into the water with a soft splash, sending ripples out to the edges of the pond.

"I know I don't owe him my feelings," Hokuto said, slowly.

"Mmhmm."

"And I know codependent caretaking dynamics don't work, that's just a breeding ground for resentment."

"Truly," said Subaru, thinking of how many times he'd had to learn that lesson the hard way before it finally stuck. Hokuto looked up at him expectantly, waiting for him to agree with her and move on, but, "You didn't answer my question, though."

"Yes I did."

"No," Subaru contradicted her, kindly as ever. "I asked you how you feel about Kakyo. YOu told me two things you know and that I agree with-"

"Thanks, Subaru!" Hokuto interrupted, sarcastically, but he pressed on.

"But how do you feel about Kakyo? Do you like him? Romantically?" And there it was, the question she'd actually needed to address since Sunday night. Or far longer than that, if she were honest with herself. She tried to shy away and deflect the sudden spotlight she found herself under, but it seemed her words had left her. With a heavy sigh, she actually began to ponder the question.

Before bringing him up to BTC with her, her answer would have been unequivocally no. He was an online friend she'd grown to care about beyond blogposts and messages, a friend she wanted to see get better, a friend she could help. However, once Kakyo had started to feel better, work and come alive, she was forced to admit she'd noticed him in a whole new light.

He was very good looking, particularly on stage, powerful and present and drawing all eyes to him. Offstage, too, they'd started having much more fun together, once she wasn't so consumed with taking care of him and making sure he was comfortable. They also complemented each other nicely: they both had a deep inner intensity, but while she wore hers on her sleeve, his was hidden beneath his introversion and softness. She remembered saying goodnight to him on the stairwell again, and imagined going into his room, wrapping herself around him and waking him up… What side of him would she see there? She sighed again, but remained silent. It wasn't as though she didn't like him romantically, but did that mean she did? It took her a long time to decide what to say, because it seemed like a statement one way or the other would somehow bind her, and that restriction and commitment was far scarier than any emotion.

"I don't know," she said, eventually, and as much as she hated to admit it, doing so seemed to ease out the splinter of Subaru's point. Newly unblocked, she continued as if someone else were speaking for her. "I don't think I can say honestly one way or the other because of what our relationship's been thus far. Does that make sense?" She looked into her brother's face, still so loving and receptive.

"Absolutely." Hokuto smiled, grateful for the validation. "Do you want advice?" Hokuto rolled her eyes, though the space once occupied by the splinter was now aching for anything else.

"Sure."

"When you have the conversation, tell him that. Keep the focus on you and how you feel." The corner of his mouth twitched. "Be selfish."

"Subaru Sumeragi did you of all people just tell me to be selfish?!" Hokuto shrieked. Subaru shrugged, grinning.

"Giving others the advice I need is my thing, remember?" Hokuto rolled her eyes. "Kakyo can take it, don't worry," he continued, on a more serious note.

"Can he?" Hokuto asked, before she could stop herself.

"With rare exceptions, other adults are capable of taking care of themselves," Subaru reminded her, still smiling.

"I hate you," Hokuto replied, though she couldn't keep a smile off her own face. Subaru wrapped his arm around her and pulled her into a hug.

"It was a really kind thing you did, bringing him here," he reminded her. "Don't forget that, okay?" Hokuto said nothing, just held him close, placing one hand on each of his shoulder blades under the fabric of the costume she'd made for him.

They stayed there, arms around each other in silence, until Subaru had to go back to work.

After break, Fuuma had the cast run through the whole play again, but this time he'd stop the action to change and critique. Overall, though, he was very pleased, and he told his cast so. "Three weeks until we open, how do you guys feel?" he asked, at the end of the day. His cast exchanged looks.

"Cautiously optimistic," Kusanagi offered. Everyone laughed, and Fuuma smiled appreciatively.

"From you, I consider that extravagant praise!" More laughter. "All right, you all get the fuck out of here, I'll see you tomorrow." The cast dispersed, and Fuuma felt deeply grateful for their hard work. He picked up his bag and retrieved his cellphone, but, before he could check it for messages, Nataku appeared at the end of his row of seats and called his name. "What's up?" Fuuma asked, making his way over.

"It's after tech, can we talk about previews now?"

"Oh shit you're right," replied Fuuma, caught off guard. "I mean, does it really matter what group of people comes when? What do you think?"

"That's not up to me," Nataku reminded him, patiently.

"I'll stop valuing your opinion then," Fuuma shot back. Nataku rolled his eyes. However, this was one of precious few decisions Fuuma had no problem outsourcing because he truly didn't give a fuck. Whether a group of BTI students, senior company staff or the general public saw the show first was irrelevant: he'd hear everyone's opinion eventually.

"You usually leave it to Seishiro," Nataku reminded him, a delicate inflection at his name. Fuuma ignored him, and checked his phone even though he knew it would give him away. No messages, which he'd expected, but it was so much worse when he needed him for something. He took a second to soothe the pain in his chest and guilt in his stomach before answering.

"Yeah, let me talk to him and see what he thinks and get back to you."

"Don't take too long, the Board will be on my ass and I have enough to do already." Fuuma laughed distractedly.

"Yeah, I'll let you know tomorrow."

"You will," Nataku agreed, then, "your last previews here," he continued, with that same delicate inflection at the word "last." "How are you feeling about that?" Fuuma didn't answer immediately. He stared at Nataku, imagining him as a little boy trying for negative attention because it was better than nothing.

"Don't hold me to that," Fuuma told him, quietly, before leaving the theater. As he made his way through the lobby, he passed the poster of the Macbeth production by that director. He barely even noticed the actor playing the title role, so drawn he was to Setsuka as his queen. He paused there, too, and texted Seishiro. 'If you have any thoughts about who should come to previews and when I'd love to know'

And with that, Fuuma left for the day.

Yuzuriha and Arashi left their dressing room together, passing Nataku at the entrance of the theater. He quickly busied himself with whatever papers he was holding at the sight of them. "Do you want to go get dinner in town?" Arashi asked Yuzuriha, quietly, as they entered the lobby, full of warm evening sunlight. Yuzuriha blinked and ran her fingers through her hair. She was exhausted, and though most of her just wanted to go to bed early and hope things would feel less awful in the morning, she also wanted to avoid the dorm.

"Sure," she replied, trying to sound more enthusiastic than she felt. Arashi took as much heart as she could from this.

"We could ask Kamui along too?" she offered, then, jokingly, "If we can tear him away from Subaru?" In spite of herself, Yuzuriha giggled weakly.

"Yeah, that'd be cool." She sighed again. "You sure you don't want time with Sorata?" she asked, under her breath. Arashi flushed, but shook her head so her long hair swayed around her.

"I mean, I do, but," she swallowed, far more aware of Yuzuriha's needs than Sorata's, or even her own, at that moment. "I'd rather spend time with you. If that's all right," she added, her blush deepening. Yuzuriha's heart swelled and seemed to fill her throat.

"Thank you," she replied, her voice constricted, profoundly grateful. "Let me text Kamui, hold on." She dug in her bag for her cellphone as Satsuki emerged from the theater too. She stopped the moment she caught sight of them and her eyes narrowed suspiciously. Although she was positive they didn't know she'd overheard their conversation in the bathroom, it was still a tense moment. "Hey," Yuzuriha said, trying again to sound more cheerful than she felt.

"Hi," Satsuki replied, coldly. Yuzuriha was forcing a smile while Arashi just looked suddenly fearful as though ready for an argument.

"Um, Arashi and I were going to go get dinner in town, did you want to come with us?" Yuzuriha asked rather wildly as she sent a text. Satsuki raised her eyebrows.

"No thank you," she replied, as politely as she could. She was sure she hadn't imagined both of them relax visibly, and it made her stomach lurch.

"Oh, well, I just thought I'd offer," Yuzuriha said, smiling, and Satsuki felt the gesture like a punch in the gut. She forced a smile of her own, said,

"See you tomorrow," and was out the door. Arashi let out the smallest of sympathetic groans as the door swung shut behind her, and Yuzuriha turned to her curiously.

"What?" Arashi asked, rather awkwardly.

"Are you okay?" Arashi nodded and brushed her hair back over her shoulder, staring sadly after Satsuki. Yuzuriha followed her gaze, pretty sure she understood.

Satsuki shuddered at the sudden, offensive brightness of the parking lot and scurried around the side of the Igarashi where she'd left her bike chained up, wanting more than anything to be as far away from BTC as possible. As she secured her bag and put on her helmet, a sudden crunch of gravel and honking of a car horn made her jump. She turned, and saw Kanoe waving at her from the driver's seat of her and Yuuto's car. Satsuki's throat tightened and she waved back sarcastically. Kanoe laughed and drove away, and as she did so Satsuki was just able to catch sight of Yuuto in the passenger's seat, looking down, again reminding her of a little boy who'd gotten in trouble.

Satsuki closed her eyes and took a few deep breaths, her stomach twisting and lurching worse than ever. She didn't want to see them. She didn't want to think about them or any of it. However, the image of Kanoe waving to her as she drove away wouldn't leave her. 'Yeah, when your husband-' she tried to think, but even contempt couldn't distract her.

Forcing her eyes open, Satsuki mounted her bike, gripping the handlebars tightly to stop her hands from shaking. She streaked out of the parking lot and up the hill, her legs pumping furiously, breathing hard through her nose, the sudden sting of wind in her eyes making them stream.

The moment they were home from rehearsal, Yuuto jumped in the shower without a word to Kanoe. He scrubbed himself clean as vigorously as he could, as though he might remove his mistake, disloyalty and boundary violation with just soap and water. He rinsed off with water so hot it left his skin flushed red, and couldn't look himself in the mirror as he got out of the tub.

He then found Kanoe and took her to bed to make love, assuage his guilt and prove his feelings and devotion. Usually sex was more than enough, and with each thrust of his hips he kept expecting it to be, but instead it just made him all the more aware that something had changed. Kanoe, however, didn't seem to notice anything, which made it even worse for Yuuto and kept threatening to deflate his erection. Unlike that afternoon, it took him a long time to climax, but Kanoe seemed to think he was drawing it out for her benefit. She moaned indulgently and kissed him greedily until he finally was able to come, then lay across his chest, running her fingers up and down his breastbone. She was so beautiful, Yuuto thought. Every curve of her body was perfect, her face was exquisite, her long silky hair was gorgeous draped gracefully around her. He was the luckiest man in the world to have her, and yet look what he'd done. A cloud drifted lazily across the sky outside, momentarily dimming the rays of sunlight falling across their bed, and all of a sudden, he felt lonely for the first time in a very long time. "Kanoe?"

"Mm?" She looked up at him, her make up a little smudged, and the ensuing rush of affection cut sharply at his insides. He couldn't tell her, he just couldn't: it seemed that to say something that might even begin to suggest what had happened would dismantle everything they'd built together, plant a doubtful spore that would rot it from the inside out.

"I love you," he told her, and she beamed up at him.

"I know. I love you too." Yuuto swallowed, stroking her hair and hating himself.

"Regardless of what we get up to with other people, you know you're my number one."

"Of course," she replied, as though it were obvious, and her faith and trust simply broke his heart. A geyser of emotion rose up in his throat, burning it and making his vision go blurry with tears. "Yuuto!" Kanoe sat up at once and pulled him into a sitting position. He fell against her, breathing hard and burying his face in her neck. She was so warm and familiar, the smell of her perfume and feel of her against him was so comforting, and yet he knew, on some deep level he almost never gave himself permission to access, that she couldn't give him what he needed in that moment.

'Why isn't it you?!' he thought, desperately, as a tidal wave of loneliness and self-disgust rose and crashed through his body. 'Why isn't it you?!' He cried harder than ever as he saw Satsuki in the parking lot, looking just as lost as he felt. He had to talk to her one more time, but the prospect was more terrifying than he ever could have imagined.

"It's all right," Kanoe breathed, holding him close and rubbing up and down his back. "It's all right, I'm here, I love you…"

Chapter Text

The next day was hot and dry. The sun rose high in the sky and beat down on all of Clow, burning the backs of necks and tips of noses. It might have been a relief to escape into the air conditioned Igarashi, but somehow the sun felt like an unavoidable spotlight, highlighting all of the pressures of the approaching opening night and all the unsaid things carried by its actors.

"Town's emptying out. It's like it's being evacuated," Kamui said, a third of the way through the final act of their second run through that day, which had taken three times as long because Fuuma kept stopping to rework scenes. He looked exhausted as he slowly pushed the empty stroller up onto the stage and sat down in the one of the lawn chairs. Kusanagi watched him sadly while Arashi averted her gaze, her arms folded across her chest. "I keep hearing about some incident outside the theater yesterday," Kamui continued, looking at Kusanagi out of the corner of his eye and pushing the stroller back and forth. Kusanagi heaved a heavy sigh and shifted in his seat while Arashi rolled her eyes.

"Jepsen started shit with Transeau, words were exchanged, now they have to sort it out," Kusanagi replied, evasively, checking the time on his phone. "No idea what Jepsen thinks he's doing, but…"

"What about Transeau?" Arashi asked, still not looking at either of them. "What if he gets hurt?"

"They'll be fine," Kusanagi told her, wearily, before adding, under his breath, "it's so stupid anyway, does it matter?"

"They're like kids meeting after school to fight behind the bleachers, it's ridiculous," Kamui agreed, still pushing the stroller.

"This is such a waste of time!" Arashi snapped, springing to her feet, a look of disgust on her face. "I won't go into the house anymore, I fucking refuse! Let me know when Colonel Young gets here." And she stalked off through the audience. Kusanagi looked sadly after her and Kamui shuddered as though the words had stung him. He stared morosely into the stroller for a moment.

"Our house is being evacuated too," he said, with a brave attempt at sarcasm.

"What about your wife?" Kusanagi asked, stretching. Kamui sighed and continued to speak into the stroller as he pushed it back and forth.

"She's my wife," he began, defensively. "She's fundamentally a good person, but then something will flip a switch in her head and she'll be up on all this petty stupid bullshit." At last he faced Kusanagi. "Can I tell you something?" Kusanagi nodded and Kamui flushed, but continued. "I love Natalie. I do, but sometimes I have no fucking idea why." It wasn't angry, it wasn't sad, it was just a statement of fact, and it radiated out through the room in a hopeless shiver. In the audience, Fuuma's lip curled, while backstage Yuuto clenched his jaw almost painfully hard and held his face in his hands.

'Why isn't it you?' he thought.

"Well, since I'm leaving tomorrow, I can give you my honest advice," Kusanagi said, heaving himself to his feet and clapping Kamui on the shoulder. Kamui's eyes widened innocently as he looked up at him, but then, "Leave." Kamui opened his mouth, but before he could muster a reply, Keiichi entered upstage left, looked around, spotted Kamui and Kusanagi and hurried over.

"Doctor!" he called, loudly. "It's time, let's go!"

"You all disgust me," Kusanagi sighed, either affectionate or repulsed, depending on how you heard it.

"What?" Keiichi demanded, narrowing his eyes.

"Shut up, Jepsen," Kusanagi replied, without looking at him. "I'll be right back," he told Kamui, and they exited together, Kusanagi singing, "tarara boom de-ay…" under his breath. Kamui waited a moment longer, staring dispassionately over the audience, before getting to his feet and exiting as well. He pushed the stroller backstage as Karen and Kakyo entered, then collapsed into a chair with his face in his hands, feeling too sad and annoyed at Andrew to do anything else. Yuuto watched him from between his own fingers, his heart feeling like one giant bruise.

"Where are you going?" Karen asked from on stage, and Yuuto shuddered again, thinking of Satsuki.

"Downtown to see everyone off," Kakyo replied, with a brave attempt at confidence. Fuuma had made them run this scene so many times that hearing himself was wearing on his already frayed nerves.

"Don't bullshit me, you've been acting weird all day," Karen persisted, doing her best not to sound impatient. Then, after a moment, "What happened yesterday?"

"Just give me an hour, okay?" Kakyo replied, sounding close to desperate. He paused to collect himself, then managed a smile as he looked into Karen's eyes. "I fell in love with you the day I met you, five years ago now. You look more beautiful every day, it kills me. I swear I'll make you happy, even though I know you don't love me back." A sudden lump rose in his throat, and he had no idea if it was Transeau's feeling, his feeling, or just stress of the show and another twenty four hours of weirdness between himself and Hokuto.

"I can't force it," Karen told him, kindly, and the lump in his throat made his eyes burn. "I'll be a good wife to you, and I'll take care of you always, it's the least I can do! I've never been in love, I don't think I ever will be. It's just never going to happen for me." They stared at each other for a quiet moment, Kakyo breathing deeply, trying to stay focused. "Why are you in such a weird mood today?"

"I," Kakyo paused and cleared his throat, "I got no sleep last night, I," he broke off again, his voice still constricted, and shook his head. "Tell me something."

"Like what?"

"Tell me something!"

"What?!" Karen demanded, bewildered.

"Something!" Kakyo cried, now sounding slightly hysterical.

"What the fuck do you want me to say?!" A pause, during which Kakyo collected himself, energy draining out of him by the second.

"It's crazy," he said, doing his utmost to keep his voice steady against the lump still hard in his throat. "What suddenly matters to you, and even when you know it's trivial, it still feels important, and you can't stop." He swallowed and shook his head again. "Fuck, sorry, let me not." He put on a brave smile and Karen raised her eyebrows. "It's beautiful out today. The grass is green! The trees have leaves again!" He paused to check the time on his phone. "I've gotta go, I'll see you later." He kissed Karen on the cheek.

"I'll go with you!" she interjected, but,

"No!" he replied, almost fiercely. "No." He sighed and gave her a long, searching look. "Irene?"

"What?"

"I haven't had coffee yet today, will you make me some when I get back?" Without waiting for a reply, Kakyo hurried off stage through the audience. Karen stood there, gazing sadly and fearfully after him. A moment passed in painful silence, then she too exited.

"Yes," muttered Fuuma, and the act finished quickly after that.

"I wish I knew," said Subaru, and Satsuki killed the lights. In the sudden blackness, the dark disheveled shapes of the rest of the cast appeared on stage. Satsuki brought up the lights again, and for the first time that day Fuuma appreciated just how tired everyone looked. He sighed and got to his feet, hitching a smile onto his face. "You guys all right?"

"Yes," Keiichi replied as confidently as he could. There was a smattering of derisive laughter, and Fuuma couldn't help but join in.

"We can figure out curtain call tomorrow," he told them, his voice softening just a little.

"You know the show's in-" Nataku began, but Fuuma cut across him.

"I've got notes, but I think giving them to you now would be counterproductive. Go home and relax."

"Really?" Kusanagi asked, before he could stop himself, and everyone joined in laughing this time. Fuuma replied with a rude hand gesture, which everyone took as a dismissal. The moment they returned to their dressing rooms, Fuuma bid Nataku goodbye and sprinted from the theater before he could scold him about still not working out the curtain call. In the lobby, however, he stopped when he ran into Satsuki, also apparently trying to make a swift exit. She started and turned sharply as though she'd heard distant gunfire, but then relaxed (or at least looked suspicious rather than fearful) when she realized it was just Fuuma.

"Heading out?" he asked, tilting his head to the side.

"Obviously," she replied, coldly. Yuuto had tried to speak to her earlier and she didn't want to give him the chance to corner her. Not that she'd tell Fuuma that, obviously; even thinking about it herself made her feel sick.

"Where are you going, home?"

"I'm trying to," Satsuki snapped. The corner of Fuuma's mouth twitched. He'd always been able to imagine Satsuki as a young girl, concealing her sense of alienation and insecurity in a nuclear fallout shelter of hostility and contempt. He always felt she must be exhausted, having to work that hard to maintain it all the time.

"You want a ride?" he asked. "We can put your bike in the back." Satsuki hesitated, knowing better than to trust him, but at the sound of people emerging from the dressing rooms,

"Sure. Thanks."

"No problem." And they left the theater together.

After changing out of their costumes, Yuzuriha and Arashi left the dressing room together. They weren't speaking, but Yuzuriha was walking closer to Arashi than she ordinarily would have done. She felt better for having spent the previous evening in town with her and Kamui, but still rather vulnerable and frightened of being exposed further.

They passed an irritated Nataku at the props table backstage, then found Kusanagi, Keiichi, Kakyo and Sorata chatting at the bar in the lobby. All four of them looked up as they approached, and Sorata and Arashi smiled warmly at each other.

"Hey," Kusanagi said, smiling at Yuzuriha and making her jump.

"Hi!" she cried, far more loudly than she'd meant to. She blushed, but managed to keep his gaze.

"You did a great job today," Kusanagi told her, kindly, and she wondered if he was humoring her, then if she was being paranoid. "What are you two up to?" Yuzuriha looked to Arashi, whose eyes were still locked with Sorata's.

"Going home and passing out?" she offered.

"Do you want to come over instead?" Kusanagi asked, his tone still suspiciously kind. He gestured at Keiichi and Kakyo, "They're all coming over for dinner," he paused, his eyes lingering on Sorata, who was just as distracted as Arashi. "We're just waiting for Subaru and Kamui." Yuzuriha felt as though her heart had been riding a roller coaster the entire time Kusanagi was speaking, going up and down in terror and excitement, then disappointment and relief.

"Uh… Are you going too, Kakyo?" she asked, stalling.

"Um, I suppose so, I should text Hokuto, though…"

"Hokuto's fine," came Subaru's voice, suddenly, from across the lobby. Everyone turned to him, even Sorata and Arashi, and he sped up, pulling Kamui by the hand. Kakyo flushed, but Subaru gave him a reassuring smile. Kakyo was about to say he didn't want her to worry, but, "Seriously, both of you will be fine."

"What's going on?" Arashi muttered to Yuzuriha, under the cover of everyone's laughter and Subaru's continued reassurance.

"They're going to Kusanagi's," Yuzuriha replied, just as quietly. Arashi's eyes widened.

"Is that…?" She wasn't sure what exactly to ask. Yuzuriha blushed, but was touched, and in that split second decided it would be less painful to go to Kusanagi's rather than awkwardly sit in her dorm with Sorata and Arashi upstairs and Hokuto next door. She nodded and managed a smile.

"I'll be fine, you two have fun." Now Arashi blushed, her eyes darting furtively to Sorata, but,

"You're sure?"

"Positive."

"I'll see you later?"

"You will."

"Good luck." Yuzuriha swallowed. She'd talked about confessing her feelings yesterday, and though she was still undecided, there was something to be said for Kusanagi hearing it from her rather through the grapevine.

"You're coming with us too?" Kusanagi asked, smiling. Yuzuriha bit down on the inside of her lip, feeling like she was walking dangerously close to the edge of a cliff, but nodded. The group left the theater together, Sorata and Arashi side by side and Kamui and Subaru holding hands and the sun hot as ever. "It'll be a tight squeeze with all of you in the back of the truck," Kusanagi warned, as they headed towards the parking lot while Sorata and Arashi split off to go back to their dorm, clearly trying not to walk too quickly. It made Yuzuriha's pounding heart ache, even as she was happy for her friend.

"I'll sit on someone's lap, I don't care," Kamui offered, shrugging, which made everyone laugh. Kusanagi unlocked the truck and everyone piled in. Kamui, Subaru and Keiichi insisted that Yuzuriha take the front seat, so she climbed up, remembering the last time she'd been over to Kusanagi's and feeling inexpressibly anxious. As they drove, she kept her eyes on the road, or else in the rearview mirror to watch Kamui and Keiichi playfight in their shared middle seat, anywhere but at Kusanagi beside her.

Sorata and Arashi returned to their dorm, empty of everything but golden afternoon sunlight. They paused in the kitchen to set down their bags, then looked at each other. Arashi gently took hold of Sorata's upper arm. "What's up?" he asked, smiling and feeling the touch radiate out through his body. She hesitated a second, reassuring herself that Yuzuriha would be all right, then stood on tiptoe to kiss him on the lips. His heart swelled, and his smile widened.

"Let's go upstairs," she breathed.

"Yeah?"

"Mmhmm." Arashi was smiling too, almost mischievously, and his heart expanded further to fill up his entire chest, belly and throat. He nodded, and she took his hand and slowly led him up the stairs and into his room. Her heart skipped with every creaky step, stoking the heat already simmering inside her.

The moment the door closed behind them, she let go of Sorata's hand, wrapped her arms around his neck and kissed him on the lips. His body lit up at once, excitement flowing out from the kiss, into his hands as one snuck around her waist and the other entangled itself in her silky hair, into his erection as he held her close and his tongue as he pressed it into her mouth. Arashi let out a soft, throaty moan and kissed him even deeper, digging her fingers into his upper back. Her entire body burned and ached for him, and she wanted to melt against him, let him sweep her away on the tidal wave of desire rising between them.

She dragged her hands down his back and pressed them up under his shirt, moaning softly again at his smooth skin and taut muscles. Sorata took a sharp breath in through his nose and shivered as he arched into the touch, and Arashi felt her inner walls throb, both at his response and how hard he was in his jeans. Suddenly too impatient to think about what she was doing, she brought one hand around to grip his erection through the rough fabric. "Oh god," Sorata whispered against her lips.

"Is that, is that okay?" she asked, though she was positive it was.

"Yeah," Sorata assured her in a choked voice, and on an intoxicating rush of power and arousal, Arashi undid his pants and slipped her hand inside. "Oh god," Sorata whispered again, gripping her tightly and thrusting forward into her hand. Her touch was always electrifying, but when she just went for it like that, when her desire for him was so blatant…

Arashi shuddered at how good he felt in her hand and immediately began to stroke him up and down, slowly at first, but then faster as he moaned encouragingly into her mouth. She'd never felt so good pleasing someone else this way or taking initiative like this, but she loved it. She wanted to make him feel as good as she knew how, to leave him gasping and moaning and spent as he'd done for her. On another swell of bravery mixed with that deep, primal need that came from touching him so intimately, she found his wrist and brought his hand between her own legs. "Oh god!" Sorata cried, immediately beginning to tease her through her pants with shaking hands.

Arashi let go of his wrist and rocked her hips against his hand, looking for more friction, but still keeping a firm grip on his erection as she pleased him. Breathing shallowly, Sorata moved his lips to her neck, kissing and sucking tenderly. Arashi cried out and stroked him faster, doing her utmost to stay focused, though the sensations were almost overwhelming. Sorata smiled against her neck and took a deep breath in, smelling her skin and hair with a deep surge of desire. At last he undid her pants, slipped his hand inside and pressed his fingertips up against her, shuddering in a visceral spasm of arousal at how wet she was. Arashi moaned and clung onto him with her free hand as he began to explore, then,

"Ah, there!" she gasped as his fingertips found her clit.

"Good?" Sorata breathed in her ear, holding her steady, fresh heat rushing up from his belly into his chest, neck and face. Arashi just kissed him full on the lips in reply. She thrust her tongue into his mouth and melted against him, her grip on his erection slackening as her focus was entirely consumed by his hands, delicately but expertly making her head spin. She pulled out of their kiss to bury her face in his neck, biting down on his hot, flushed skin to stifle needy moan after needy moan. Sorata gasped and closed his eyes at another visceral, lustful shudder, then, when he'd collected himself as best he could, "I wanna make you come." He shivered at his own words, at the very prospect. Arashi cried out, momentarily paralyzed by his desire and his tone and his fingers still pleasing her. However, once she was able to break the grip her pleasure had over her voice,

"Keep going!" Regretfully, she took her hand off his erection, but Sorata barely noticed as she wrapped both arms around his neck and kissed him soundly on the lips. He carefully slid his fingers inside her, moaning as her glorious, velvety heat engulfed them. Arashi moaned too, pulsing around him, begging him to continue. He moved his fingers in and out a few times, just to give her a second, then pressed his thumb against her aching clit, withdrew his fingers and thrust them back inside, much faster and harder this time. Arashi's entire body seized up and she gripped his shoulders tighter as her knees threatened to give way. It was perfect, the pressure, the friction, everything, and she moaned openly, her face screwed up in pleasure.

"Good?" Sorata asked in a choked moan. Again, Arashi could barely answer, but she managed a desperate,

"Y-yes!" Sorata shivered and kept going, harder and faster and deeper, desperate for her pleasure. Arashi's thighs shook violently and she moaned fluently into his ear, and time slipped away in a whirl of gratification. They could have been there five minutes or five hours, she didn't know or care, as the pressure built in a crescendo inside her. "Oh god, I'm-!" Sorata gasped and Arashi's whole body shuddered. "Oh!" She came suddenly, her inner walls throbbing around his fingers as all the pleasure burst its bounds and rushed out through her body, making her sway where she stood. Sorata held her steady with his free hand, closing his eyes as he felt the rise and crash of her orgasm in his own body. He waited for her to settle in his arms before carefully taking his hand away.

"Good?" he asked her, quietly. In answer, Arashi groaned and kissed him on the lips, soft and delicious and reverent.

"Mm," she moaned, quietly, pulling away with a smile. She looked him in the face, and found that the release she'd revelled in was already fading away. Far from satisfying her, his hands only made her long for more. "Can we keep going?" she asked, her tone hesitant even as her voice throbbed with arousal.

Sorata's erection twitched excitedly as he nodded, bringing his fingers up to his mouth and sucking them clean with a low, desperate moan. Arashi flushed so deeply she felt almost feverish and immediately pulled away to undress. Sorata smiled and pulled off his shirt, feeling lightheaded with want as he saw Arashi's eyes travel hungrily over his chest. His breath caught in his throat as he drank in her soft curves, smooth skin and long, lustrous hair.

"You're beautiful," he said, quietly and completely sincerely. She was perfect, and she wanted him, and he felt like the luckiest person on Earth in that moment. Arashi smiled, but couldn't think of anything to say to that, so she just unhooked her bra and allowed it to fall onto the floor beside her. Sorata let out a shaky sigh, finished undressing and lay down in his bed, his arms and legs splayed open. Arashi bit her lip against the longing moan in her throat as she looked down at him. His summer tan and messy dark hair contrasted beautifully with the snowy white sheets. His expression was lustful, but soft, and his erection was so hard and begging to be touched. He held out his hand with a hopeful smile, and Arashi finally took off her underwear and climbed on top of him.

The skin to skin contact was ecstasy and Arashi held the sides of Sorata's face and kissed him hard on the lips. Sorata moaned and wrapped his arms tight around her, running his hands up and down her back, gripping her ass and her thighs. He was in heaven, feeling her so relaxed and entangled with him, her skin deliciously soft against his. He carefully eased her upwards so her warm, heavy breasts were level with his face. He took one nipple into his mouth with a grateful moan and knew an almost painful shock of arousal through every nerve of his body. Arashi cried out and arched into the sensations, throwing her head back and gripping his hair very tightly. It was almost painfully intense, but it made her toes curl and her inner walls spasm desperately.

"Oh my god!" she moaned, her thighs beginning to shake again. Sorata swirled his tongue around her nipple one more time, then let go and looked up at her, glassy eyed and gasping for breath. His expression aroused her as nothing else had so far, and she gripped his hair even tighter. "More," she begged him, softly. Sorata shuddered underneath her and obeyed at once, taking her other nipple into his mouth with another grateful moan. Arashi groaned and collapsed over him, holding his head against her chest. The sensation shocked every nerve of her body like an electric charge, making her thighs shake, clit pulse and inner walls throb desperately. They stayed there for what seemed like hours, until Sorata dragged his hand down her belly and pressed it up between her legs, teasing her hot, slippery labia. "Oh god!" Arashi cried, and with a massive effort, she pressed her hands into the pillows on either side of him and lifted herself away, once again leaving him gasping, his eyes glazed with lust.

"Are you okay?"

"Yes! I just," she swallowed and blushed. "Please, I want…" They both shivered at their shared rush of understanding.

"Me too," he replied, his voice low and needy, and saying it out loud made it all the more true. Arashi bit her lip, then rolled off of him to lie on her back, her legs spread and heart pounding. Sorata had to close his eyes and take a second to collect himself before pulling his bedside table drawer open to retrieve the condom he'd taken from Kamui a million years ago. He opened it and slid it on, then climbed back on top of Arashi and kissed her hard on the lips.

"Like this?" he asked her, softly, taking hold of his erection and guiding it into place.

"Like this," Arashi replied, her heart swelling suddenly.

He kissed her once more, then entered her with a smooth thrust of his hips. They moaned into each other's mouths as he stayed still a moment, allowing them to share the rush of ecstasy, relish it, feel full of each other. Arashi wrapped her arms and legs tight around Sorata and he rested his forehead against hers.

"Good?" he asked.

"Yes!" Sorata nodded, drew his hips back nice and slow, then thrust inside again. Arashi threw her head back in ecstasy and dug her heels into his lower back, her inner walls squeezing tight around him as though trying to pull him even deeper.

"Oh fuck, oh my god," Sorata moaned, employing all his will power not to move as fast as he could. He wanted to take it slow, draw it out, but oh god… He withdrew his hips and thrust back inside, still slow, still deep, the friction and pressure glorious for both of them.

"More!" Arashi begged him in another ecstatic moan, and he kept going, still slowly, cupping the back of her head in both hands to kiss her. Arashi closed her eyes and exhaled deeply into his mouth, surrendering completely. He was so tender, even though his thrusts were deliciously hard and deep. It felt incredible, but she knew that at this speed true pleasure would always be just out of reach. "Faster," she moaned, and with a deep shudder of arousal, Sorata obliged, fucking her harder and faster and deeper. "Oh god, yes!" Arashi cried without meaning to, moving her hips to match his rhythm. Sorata caught her lips in another kiss and snuck one arm under her, lifting her hips and tilting them into the perfect angle. "OH!" Arashi saw stars as the sensation radiated out through her body in hot, glorious waves and brought the pressure inside her to the boiling point.

Sorata groaned as she pulled in tight around his erection, the intensity of the sensation and new angle already more than enough to push him over the edge, but he wouldn't. Not yet. He kept going, drinking in her face, flushed and sweaty and contorted with pleasure, her nipples hard and thighs shivering around his hips as she received him. "Oh god!" he gasped, needing to change position before it was too late. He pressed himself up onto his knees and lay her slender legs over his shoulders. "Is this okay?" he asked in a choked voice.

"Y-yes!" Arashi cried, dazedly. Sorata nodded and began to move again, the new position allowing him even deeper inside. Arashi screamed and dug her fingernails into his shoulders. Her entire focus narrowed in on the friction and heat and pleasure he was giving her. Sorata felt her tense around him and knew a thrill of arousal in his own body.

"Are you close?" he asked, his voice constricting still further. Arashi's eyes flew open and she stared him hard in the face.

"Yes!" she cried, desperately, and saying it pushed her right to the edge. Sorata found her clit with his skilful fingers once again, and with just a few more thrusts, she came, hard, around his erection, sending fresh waves of pleasure crashing out through her body, heart and soul. She couldn't even scream, she could only make desperate, disconnected sounds, but it didn't matter: her mind had blanked blissfully, leaving her free of all thought, completely receptive and- "OH!" Sorata was moving his fingers again, pressing harder into her clit in quick, insistent circles. Arashi came again a split second later, the sensation sharp, almost painful, but incredible, unlike anything she'd felt before. She went completely limp in his arms and sank back into the pillows, unable to move except for her body's residual shudders of pleasure.

Sorata watched with wide, awed eyes, his entire body screaming its approval as he once more felt like the luckiest person on Earth. However, as her body stopped shuddering, as she blearily opened her eyes as she came down, the need he'd successfully ignored after changing positions was now white hot in his veins again. His other hand shook as he cupped the side of her face. She locked eyes with him as best she could, and he smiled down at her, his heart and erection both throbbing. "Good?" he whispered. Arashi closed her eyes in sheer bliss that made Sorata's erection throb again.

"Amazing…" Sorata swallowed.

"Can I keep going?" Arashi's eyes fluttered open, and, dragging the strength up from deep inside, she managed to take hold of the sides of his face again.

"I want you to come," she whispered. Sorata nodded and began to move again, immediately picking up his rhythm. Arashi moaned softly, completely receptive and loving it.

"I'm right there!" Sorata gasped, his entire body tense and poised.

"Inside," Arashi whispered.

"Oh-"

With a choked moan, Sorata came, harder than he had done in a long time. His entire body shuddered as pleasure gripped, then released him, draining it of everything but warm, gooey satisfaction. He fell against Arashi, breathing hard in her ear, and she shivered and closed her eyes, a soft, fulfilled smile on her face.

They stayed there a moment longer, then Sorata gave Arashi one last kiss on the lips and pulled out, slowly and carefully. Arashi gasped, missing him already as he straightened up, peeled off the condom and threw it out, groaning in satisfaction as he lay down beside her again. Arashi stretched and rolled over so they were face to face, and immediately he took her into his arms. He smiled warmly at her, his eyes still rather glazed, and kissed her tenderly on the lips.

"Still okay?" he asked her. She closed her eyes, her lips parting gently. As if "okay" could even begin to describe it.

"I feel amazing," she breathed, her eyes fluttering open and fingers trailing up and down his back.

"Me too," Sorata replied, truthfully. Arashi giggled but made no attempt to stifle it. Sorata's heart swelled in his chest and he held her more closely to him, feeling too content and sleepy to do much else. Arashi closed her eyes, still stroking up and down his back, until they both fell asleep.

Kusanagi's bungalow was the most crowded it had been in a long time, and he was loving it. Kakyo, Keiichi, Subaru, Kamui and Yuzuriha were all on his back porch with bowls of soup and sandwiches and easy conversation while he sat reclined in his usual chair, tossing crumbs to his contingent of sparrows. All the noise and bodies made them unwilling to come close, so they just chirped expectantly from the railings. Yuzuriha watched him out of the corner of her eye, her heart aching with each spoonful of soup.

"Your mom's coming to opening night, right Keiichi?" Kamui asked, dunking his sandwich into his soup and swallowing half of it in one bite.

"Yup!" Keiichi replied, though he sounded worried. "I tried to convince her to wait until at least a few nights in so we'd have the hang of things better, but," he shrugged.

"My moms are the same way," Kamui said with a nod of solidarity.

"Is that where you get it from?" asked Subaru, innocently. Everyone laughed and Yuzuriha added,

"Yes," immediately. Still laughing, everyone looked to Kamui for his reaction, which surprised him.

"What?" She's not wrong!"

"Really?" Subaru asked Yuzuriha, eagerly.

"Oh yeah!" she replied, at once, looking anywhere but at Kusanagi. "Tohru's this amazing, super composed lady but she'd also kick someone's ass. She takes absolutely no shit, it's awesome." Kamui smiled warmly at her, then added, affectionately,

"That's a nice way of saying 'but she doesn't give a fuck and drives her wife to distraction,' thank you!"

"Shut up, Kamui," snapped Yuzuriha, over everyone laughing.

"It's nothing she wouldn't also say about me, all right? Listen…"

"Listen!" Keiichi interjected in a deadly serious tone that sent everyone into further peels of laughter.

"Are both your parents like that?" Kusanagi asked.

"Oh no, they're total opposites, but in the best way," Kamui replied, fondly. "Ama also takes no crap, but she'd rather talk things out and be nice to people."

"What a tragedy," Subaru said, sardonically.

"No it's good! It just causes conflict sometimes, obviously."

"Only because you get in trouble and they handle it differently," Yuzuriha muttered, rolling her eyes.

"Yeah exactly," Kamui replied, courteously. Everyone looked curiously at him, clearly expecting a story to illustrate this, so he obligingly finished his sandwich and cleared his throat. "Best example was when I was in high school and I got in a fight-"

"Which time?" interrupted Yuzuriha, and Kamui gave her an extremely offended look.

"I was gonna say before you interrupted me!" But then he grinned. "In after school drama!"

"That wasn't a fight, that was you punching a castmate in the face!" Yuzuriha reminded him, also grinning, but he just shrugged.

"He deserved it, who cares?"

"Why'd you punch him?" Subaru asked, wearily, over yet more laughter.

"He was causing trouble for my friend, and my character had to punch his anyway, so…" Subaru kissed Kamui on the top of the head and Yuzuriha felt a rush of gratitude that he hadn't mentioned she was the friend for whom he was causing trouble.

"Convenient!" Keiichi said, grinning.

"I'm saying!" said Kamui. "I said it was an accident-"

"-and our drama teacher called bullshit," Yuzuriha finished.

"I was gonna say," Kusanagi said under his breath.

"Right? So of course I get sent off to the principal's office. He calls my parents, whatever. I'm just like, 'okay can I go back to rehearsal? We go up in two weeks,' but my Ama picks me up from school and sits me down and starts telling me off, like, 'I know you're angry but this isn't acceptable, you can't put your hands on people,' all that."

"How very unreasonable," Subaru said, politely sarcastic. Everyone burst into laughter again, but Kamui pressed on.

"I'm just there like," he paused and pulled a bored, glazed over face. "But then she tells me I'm grounded for the whole weekend and that's when I actually got fucking pissed off-"

"Unjust persecution, I'm telling you!" cried Subaru, and everyone laughed even harder.

"Listen!" Kamui said, loudly.

"Listen!" echoed Keiichi, very seriously, and Kamui waited for the laughter to subside before continuing.

"I'm like, are you kidding me? What if it really was an accident?!" Yuzuriha and Subaru exchanged a look. "But even if it wasn't! One, he deserved it, and two, it wasn't a hard punch!" Kusanagi and Subaru rolled their eyes: it was way too easy to imagine Kamui as a teenager, protesting wildly with feebler and feebler excuses. "But then Mom comes home from work, sees us arguing and is like," he put on a bravely receptive expression and a calm, commanding tone, "'wait wait, hold on. What happened? Is this about that message I got at work?' So I jump in and tell her what happened and the circumstances surrounding it. Context, you feel me?"

"Justification, you feel me?" Subaru offered instead.

"You know what? I'm gonna be the bigger person here and still punch someone in the face on your behalf should the need ever arise," Kamui told him, with dignity, before adding, in an undertone, "then come at me about justification."

"Holy shit, Kamui," laughed Yuzuriha.

"Listen, I'm just saying-"

"Listen," said Keiichi yet again.

"Exactly. So I tell Mom the story and then both Ama and I sit there waiting for her reaction, and she just kind of rolls her eyes and goes," he put on a resigned tone, "'Kamui for goodness sake. Was he hurt?' I was like, 'I dunno? Probably not? I really didn't hit him that hard, like I said!' And she just sighs and goes, 'Don't try that again or you'll be sorry, do you understand?' Now I know whenever she says that she's not playing, but then Ama's like, 'What do you mean if he tries that again he's in trouble?! I told him he's grounded this weekend already!'"

"Oh god," muttered Kusanagi warily.

"Right? So my Mom's like, 'He's already got detention and this kid needed to get put in his place-'"

"Your mom really said that?" Subaru asked, bemusedly.

"Yup," said Kamui, proudly. "See it's not just me, my entire family's like this. Anyway, Ama's like, 'Tohru, no! That's not right!' And Mom's all, 'Really? It's not that big a deal!' 'Yes it is!' So now they're in a fight, and I'm just kind of watching, like," he looked back and forth several times as though watching an invisible tennis match. "Am I in trouble, or…?"

"Were you?" asked Keiichi, over even more laughter.

"I dunno, I just left," Kamui replied, shrugging. "Then I went and texted you," he continued, nodding at Yuzuriha, who smiled back at him. "But yeah, my parents are cool, you'll see."

"I can't wait," replied Subaru, and he and Kamui kissed. "My grandmother will be here but she's nowhere near as fun."

"Same," said Yuzuriha. "This role was important to your dad, though, right Keiichi?" Keiichi's chest swelled.

"Yup! Like I said, I wish she'd come to a later performance, but truthfully I can't wait for her to see it. I just hope she likes it."

"I'm sure she will," Kusanagi assured him, clapping him encouragingly on the shoulder. "You're great in this."

"Thanks," he replied, smiling warmly at Kusanagi. "I'm sorry your parents can't be here to see it."

"There'll always be people who can't be there," Kusanagi replied with a rather sad smile. "Thank you though, I'm sorry too." Yuzuriha hastily looked away, but Kamui caught her eye and smiled. She still felt rather uneasy and jumpy, but she couldn't help but feel a little better for Kamui's support, in high school and now. She thought suddenly of Arashi, dragging her into the bathroom to talk things out and listen. She liked Arashi very much, and she wished the best for her and Sorata.

"Are your family coming to see your acting debut, Kakyo?" she asked, her tone and eyes as bright as she could make them. Kakyo started and fumbled with his spoon before speaking for the first time since they'd arrived at Kusanagi's bungalow.

"No," he mumbled, feeling suddenly and woefully inadequate, but he did his best. "I mean, I'm not sure, I haven't told anyone I'm performing." 'Or that I even came up here to begin with,' he reminded himself. His family, aside from the aunt from whom he'd inherited his apartment, didn't care as far as he knew. It had never occurred to him to be bothered before; their rejection had weirdly been the easiest to deal with, or at least prepared him to not be surprised by future losses. He swallowed and looked uncomfortably around at his castmates, wondering how they'd take this. However, they all just nodded understandingly, which took him completely by surprise. "That isn't weird?"

"Nah," Kamui said at once. "Letting your family see your work is always fucking weird."

"It is, right?" chimed in Subaru. "I love my grandmother, but she doesn't need to see everything."

"My parents weren't theater people, even though they were close to Setsuka," added Kusanagi. Kakyo allowed a smile, thinking the only person he really cared about impressing was Hokuto anyway, even though she'd become suddenly distant. It was probably his fault and he should have seen it coming, but still…

"Karen told me I should perform for myself first anyway," he said, quietly, trying not to think about Hokuto.

"She's right!" his castmates chorused emphatically. Kakyo just nodded, a lump in his throat.

As the sun sank further and further over the treetops to the west, the golden rays of light suddenly fell across Arashi's closed eyes. She shut them tighter for a moment, then opened them, and Sorata's bedroom came into glimmering focus. She sat up, and a soft smile spread across her face as she took in Sorata himself lying on his back, lips parted and hair all over his peaceful face. His chest rose and fell gently, and he was hard again. Arashi bit her lip and placed her hand on his chest. His heartbeat was slow and steady as hers was speeding up. She leaned forward and kissed him on the forehead, and immediately he began to stir. She drew away as his brow furrowed and he let out a sleepy groan. He stretched and rubbed his eyes, but as he focused on her, his heart swelled in his chest.

"Hey," he said, the new feelings spreading, warm and exciting, from his heart throughout his body.

"Hi," Arashi replied, softly. Sorata took hold of the hand on his chest and kissed it. Arashi flushed. "Did you sleep well?" Sorata laughed softly, staring into her face as though he could never look at her enough.

"Fuck yeah." Arashi smiled and kissed him on the lips. Sorata's erection twitched. "What happens now?" he prompted, in just above a whisper. Arashi took a deep breath in, sighed it out and kissed him again in answer.

"Do you want more soup, Yuzuriha?" Kusanagi asked, making her jump.

"Yes please," she replied, hating how flustered she sounded. Kusanagi smiled and got to his feet, making to take her bowl, but on a sudden rush of either bravery or madness, she stood up and led the way into the kitchen. She could feel Kamui's eyes on the back of her neck and knew intuitively that he was excited for her, that he'd be cheering her on if he could, but he engaged everyone in conversation to cover the moment instead, for which she was grateful.

"You didn't have to do that," said Kusanagi, once they were back in the cool, shady kitchen, nodding at her empty bowl and holding his hand out for it.

"No, it's okay, I," but she broke off, shrugging. She knew this was incredibly risky, particularly when they had only seconds, but she didn't trust her courage not to fail ever again. "I, um, I actually wanted to talk to you about something."

"What's going on?" Kusanagi asked, easily, but the very air in the room seemed to tense, blocking out the noise from the porch. Yuzuriha bit her lip, and Kusanagi suddenly suspected what was coming. It always went like this, all the tension and frustration and emotion building up since day one finally snapping after tech. As much as he tried and succeeded to stay out of it, he was still aware. His mind flashed suddenly to Fuuma on Monday morning before he forced it back to Yuzuriha in front of him. As much as he didn't want to assume and start forming counter arguments before she even got the words out, he immediately started thinking. It wasn't as if he couldn't reciprocate: Yuzuriha was beautiful, he loved her energy and presence and there was no doubting they had chemistry.

"Well," she began, rather awkwardly, realizing extremely quickly that she had no actual plan aside from getting him alone. She looked into his face, so handsome but also kind and receptive; he wouldn't laugh, would he? But there was no way he'd feel the same regardless, was there? "Kusanagi, I, what I'm about to tell you doesn't leave this room, okay?"

"I understand," he replied at once, and now his mind flashed to Seishiro. Yuzuriha actually believed him, and it made her blush like a high school student and she hated it. She took a deep breath, gathering her courage to say it before she lost her nerve.

"I like you," she said with a shudder. "I've liked you for a long time but I didn't want to say anything because-" but she stopped speaking before she could make a fool of herself.

"It's all right," Kusanagi said calmly. "It's all right." He was smiling, but her mouth went dry. A moment's silence passed. "That's very sweet." Yuzuriha's heart sank and her gaze dropped to the floor.

"But you don't feel the same," she finished, an unpleasant heat creeping up her neck.

"I didn't say that," Kusanagi said, kindly, his heart aching for her. Yuzuriha looked up at him sharply, but her sunken heart continued to pound in her stomach. "You're beautiful, you're a wonderful person, and I love spending time with you," he paused to take a breath, "but I don't date casually, and we're in way too different places for something serious."

"What-" Yuzuriha asked in a much higher voice than usual. She cleared her throat embarrassedly. "What do you mean?"

"I mean that I'm happy and established in Clow, but you're just starting out and are way too talented to throw all that away and get stuck up here with me." Yuzuriha said nothing, just stared back at him incredulously. "I'm not making an excuse," Kusanagi continued, his expression softening. "If things were different, I would love to try it." Yuzuriha closed her eyes, the words simultaneously heartening and infuriating. "But you can't give up your career to be with me, and I can't uproot mine to come to be with you-"

"I wouldn't ask you too!" Yuzuriha cried, forcing her eyes open.

"I know," Kusanagi continued in the same calm tone. "So how can you ask yourself to do that for me?" Yuzuriha faltered, the words bringing her tornado of mixed emotions to a halt.

"I… Because you might be worth it?" she offered, and even with her impatient tone the words sounded pathetic. She dropped her gaze to the floor again, feeling small and embarrassed and inadequate. What had she been thinking?! "I'm sorry, I shouldn't have said anything!"

"No, I'm glad you told me," Kusanagi said, earnestly. "I'm just sorry you couldn't tell me sooner." Yuzuriha's eyes filled with tears and she looked up at the ceiling as if that would drain them away. Her first thought was 'so you could reject me sooner?' but she didn't want to snap at him like that. She just stared up at the ceiling, noticing every varnished groove in the weathered wood. "I'm sorry," Kusanagi said again, and she could tell he meant it, which only made it worse. "I promise you I'm not saying this to make excuses or to avoid being the bad guy or because I'm 'looking out for you' or something." He put a sarcastic spin on the phrase and Yuzuriha finally met his gaze again, her eyes still full of tears. "I just think you shouldn't waste your talent making decisions about your career based on someone besides yourself." Yuzuriha blinked, and the tears finally slid down her face. She couldn't blame him, and she knew he was right. How many of her friends had she seen turn down opportunities for a relationship that ultimately ended? Or had left them resentful about giving up something they loved?

"You really think I'm that talented?" she asked, quietly.

"Yes," Kusanagi replied, firmly. "And," he continued, slowly and carefully, "if later on you do decide to settle up here and we could do something for the long haul, then we'll talk about it."

"You mean all that?"

"I do." Yuzuriha sniffed and wiped her eyes, her heart aching powerfully even as it rose up to its rightful place in her chest again. She knew half elation, half crippling sadness. "And if in the meantime you need me to back off and give you space, I-"

"No," Yuzuriha said, firmly. She stepped forward, stood up on tip toe and kissed him on the cheek. "Thanks for, for being honest," she said, bravely. Kusanagi just nodded, his cheek hot where she'd kissed him. "I'll be fine," she continued, as steadily as she could. "I'm just gonna go clean up." She touched her own wet cheek with an embarrassed sort of smile that broke Kusanagi's heart.

"Bathroom's that way," he told her, because it was the only problem he could solve. Yuzuriha nodded and hurried in the direction he'd indicated, and Kusanagi was positive he heard her stifle a sob. He sighed and pressed his fingertips to where she'd kissed him. "Damn it," he told the silence, his heart still aching. Another moment passed, and he picked up Yuzuriha's empty bowl and filled it with hot soup, trying to impart as much care as he could into the act, and returned his guests.

A few minutes later, Yuzuriha returned to the porch to find the bowl of soup waiting for her, though she wasn't remotely hungry for it. Kusanagi and Kamui both watched her in some concern, and though she appreciated it, she figured she must look worse than she felt, because inside she felt rather empty, but strangely free for it. Getting turned down was sad, and she was hurting, but the relief of finally speaking her feelings and knowing how he felt, rather than being stuck in limbo, was incredibly liberating. She felt almost like her feelings had matured for being exposed: like some instantaneous chemical reaction, they'd become less frantic and youthful, which was also a relief. Of course she wished that Kusanagi had given her the answer she'd wanted, but she found she didn't hold it against him. She knew he was right, deep down, and he'd said things might change some day. She'd always hated the phrase "if it's meant to be, it'll happen," but maybe there was a reason everyone said it all the time. Maybe it didn't just apply to people whose personal lives weren't messy. Maybe she could experience everything she'd always been jealous of. If not, there was always performing, which she'd loved for longer than any guy and had way better luck with anyway. It also made her almost embarrassingly happy that Kusanagi thought she was that talented. He'd seen Setsuka first hand, after all.

She rode shotgun on their drive home and watched Kusanagi laugh, sing along with his music and tell off the guys for misbehaving. They pulled back into BTC's campus and up to their dorms and caught sight of Sorata and Arashi sitting on their back porch with Hokuto. Kakyo's heart leapt as he hopped down from Kusanagi's truck, and he was relieved to see Hokuto smile and spring to her feet to greet him. Subaru, Kamui and Keiichi followed him, but Yuzuriha remained where she was a moment longer.

"You okay?" Kusanagi asked quietly, once Keiichi slammed the door behind him.

"I'm fine," she assured him. "I won't fall apart, I just needed to cry."

"I understand." They looked at each other, and a moment passed in aching silence.

"If I don't get a better gig, I'm going to try and get back here every summer," she told him, firmly. Kusanagi smiled.

"I'll be waiting." Her throat suddenly constricted too tightly for speech, so she just smiled and nodded and hopped down from the truck. She slammed the door behind her, and Kusanagi drove off into the blue and pink evening.

Yuzuriha wrapped her arms around herself and felt, before she saw, Kamui and Arashi run over to her. Arashi's eyes were full of concern, and Kamui's arms were wide and waiting. Her lip trembled and she fell against him, dissolving into tears both happy and sad. He held her close and steady while Arashi soothed and stroked her hair.

"Do you want to go for a walk?" Hokuto asked Kakyo, out of earshot of everyone else.

"Um, all right," he replied, cautiously. Her smile was the first encouraging sign in days, but he couldn't help but feel anxious as they headed away from the dorms, following the path down to the Ohkawa. People were rehearsing there, and their voices floated towards them on the warm evening breeze. However, they didn't go inside. Instead, Hokuto led Kakyo around the back of the building, the crunching of the gravel path under their feet the only sound until,

"I'm sorry I've been distant," she said, quietly.

"It's okay!" cried Kakyo at once, though he was relieved he hadn't been imagining things. Hokuto stopped walking, the evening light dappled where it fell across their path. She stared him hard in the face, and he met her gaze unflinchingly.

"How much of Sunday night do you remember?" she asked. Kakyo swallowed.

"I remember bits and pieces," he replied, sheepishly, looking down at his feet.

"Do you remember saying good night?" Kakyo swallowed again, trying to remember. A jerky picture of their upstairs landing came to him. Hokuto's face swam in front of him, in and out of focus. Clasped hands…? Molten panic surged inside him. Surely he would have remembered if… "Nothing happened," Hokuto assured him, and he sighed heavily in a weird mix of relief and disappointment. He looked her in the face, desperate for guidance, and she smiled a pained smile. "Is that something you want?" she asked, softly. Kakyo's stomach disappeared, and he went very red, no idea what to say, but, "You don't have to answer now," Hokuto said, still very quietly. "And… I'm not going to try and tell you how you feel in the meantime." Her stomach squirmed guiltily, but she stood her ground, staring intently at Kakyo. "But, would it be all right if I told you how I'm feeling?"

"Of course," Kakyo replied, finding his voice at once, his heart hammering in the place his stomach should have been.

Hokuto took a deep breath, trying to remember all she'd planned to say, but it seemed the harder she tried the quicker her prepared speech deserted her. She shook her head in frustration before locking eyes with Kakyo, and his gaze drew new words, but true and honest words, out from deep in her chest. "I care about you," she said, firmly, "and if goes beyond just wanting to help you. That was more to do with me than anything else." Kakyo nodded, not sure he understood but listening anyway. "But because of that, I also know that if we were to try and, and be more than friends," her heart squeezed and her chest flushed. "I wouldn't feel comfortable until you're in a better place." Kakyo felt suddenly as if he were under one of the spotlights on stage, but, like when he was on stage, he didn't look away. He tried to recall the feeling of performing, of gathering courage from reserves he'd once thought empty, to speak his lines.

"I've been thinking about that for a while," he told her, just as softly. Hokuto managed not to immediately interject, but it was a challenge. "I, of course I, would love to be more than friends," he shuddered as he said it, but weirdly, it also gave him strength. "I think you're one of the most incredible people I've ever met, and you saved my life! I just," a sudden lump rose in his throat, but he swallowed it with his new strength, "I can't imagine you wanting to be with someone like me." The words broke Hokuto's heart, and she wanted to say something cajoling and encouraging like she always did, but her reserve of positivity felt distinctly insincere all of a sudden, leaving her with nothing but her own feelings. She didn't like it, but wasn't this what Subaru had told her to do? Keep the focus on herself and listen?

"It's not like that," she sighed, regretfully, "it's nowhere near that simple." In some part of his mind, Kakyo knew he should have been heartened by the promise in the words, but the rest of his mind immediately tried to take over, to drag him to all the scariest possibilities. "It's because I was able to help you that I can't just reciprocate. I know my pattern." Hokuto's stomach squirmed again as she admitted it. "I try and help someone, they fall for me, it always ends in resentment." She swallowed. "But you're different, and I, I wouldn't want to start anything as we are now."

"I don't feel worthy of asking you to, so it works out," Kakyo replied, finally breaking their gaze to stare at his feet again, his heart still beating in his belly.

"So what, we just ignore your feelings?" Hokuto demanded, her voice suddenly sharp. The words had unearthed a sudden spring of anger in her chest, further separating the broken shards of her heart. Kakyo recoiled slightly, but looked up at her again, almost incredulous.

"Is there another option?"

"Yes!" she cried, her broken heart pounding, its edges poking painfully between her ribs. "You get into a better place and we meet as equals! Obviously!" Her face burned as she realized how simple, though foreign, a concept this was. A moment's silence passed.

"Sorry," Kakyo said, eventually. Hokuto closed her eyes for a moment, her anger at him turning inwards and making her stomach curl up in shame.

"Don't do that," she said, firmly, forcing her eyes open.

"What?"

"Don't apologize. I'm sorry, I just," she sighed and ran her fingers through her hair. "I won't ignore your feelings and I don't want you to either!" Now Kakyo raised his eyebrows.

"Isn't that my pattern?" he asked. Hokuto's eyes widened, and they stared at each other, stunned for a second, before she laughed, but then clapped her hands to her mouth.

"I'm sorry!" she cried, mortified, "I don't mean to laugh, it's just, you're right!" Now Kakyo allowed himself a laugh, his heart creeping back up to his chest.

"I am," he agreed, his stomach reappearing. Hokuto sighed heavily and shook her head again.

"Exactly, so I don't want to start anything as we are now." She closed her eyes for a moment, but when she reopened them, she was smiling, looking much more like herself, and the deeply familiar gesture was almost unspeakably comforting to Kakyo. "Colleagues and friends for now, okay?"

"For now?" Kakyo asked, that part of his brain that had recognized the implication earlier forcing back any negative what ifs.

"We'll see," Hokuto replied, as sincerely as she could. She looked into Kakyo's face, and it was as if some subconscious barrier had lifted, allowing her to finally see him clearly. For the first time, she was able to appreciate just how handsome he was, how he went back and forth with her and made her laugh. She could, she actually could, but she'd have to wait, take time and see what happened naturally.

Kakyo wasn't entirely sure what had happened in the conversation, but he was aware that something had shifted, and also that it was a relief. "We'll see," she had said, and the possibilities suddenly seemed endless, even bright. It took off the immediate pressure, gave both of them more time. He hadn't realized just how much he'd been worrying about the end of the summer and what it would mean for him and Hokuto until this moment. He'd assumed, subconsciously and not, that she'd abandon him, but now it didn't seem that way. If Hokuto would stay in his life in some capacity and he had no other loose ends to tie up, couldn't he just start over? His apartment would be cleaned out, he'd be coming back with new and renewed relationships, that was certainly something to build from. He'd be able to have Hokuto come over without feeling awful, he could have his other castmates who lived in New York over too! Maybe he could even perform there, go to school and learn to do it properly, work again with this group of people he liked so much and who had been so kind to him.

The happiness and hopefulness felt rather dangerous, because things so rarely turned out well, much less stayed that way. However, just for today, as he looked out over BTC's campus, lush and green and bathed in evening light, he'd allow himself to be optimistic. He turned back to Hokuto, who was watching him apprehensively, and gave her a real, genuine smile. "Thank you for bringing me here," he told her, for what felt like the millionth time. She smiled back, and he allowed more happy feelings to warm his insides.

"Thank you for coming," she replied, her own heart swelling. They stayed there a moment, Kakyo still gazing appreciatively around the campus. "Do you think you'll do more theater after this?" Hokuto asked, following his gaze.

"I was just thinking about that."

"Were you?"

"I'd like to pursue it, I think. Even if I can't make a full career out of it, it'd get me out of the house." Hokuto beamed.

"I agree! Go and take classes, there's tons of good ones in the city." Kakyo nodded, and had a sudden vision of himself back here in a year's time, knowing what he was doing and playing a role for which he'd actually auditioned.

"Let's go back," he said. Hokuto nodded, and they walked back to their dorm. However, Hokuto stopped abruptly outside it, having caught sight of Yuzuriha on her porch with Arashi and Kamui. Kakyo looked at her inquiringly.

"You go ahead, I'll be there in a bit." Kakyo nodded and headed back inside while Hokuto approached the group. They all looked up, and she noticed Yuzuriha's eyes were rather red and puffy. "Yuzuriha, can I talk to you for a second?" Yuzuriha sniffed, looking confused and apprehensive, but nodded.

"We'll be inside," Kamui said quickly, and he and Arashi retreated to the kitchen. Hokuto wondered for a moment if they knew what she'd said to Yuzuriha, if they were upset with her, but knew it didn't change what she had to do. She hopped up the back steps and Yuzuriha got to her feet, her arms folded across her chest.

"I'm sorry for what I said on Sunday night," Hokuto said, without preamble. Yuzuriha's eyes widened. "It was none of my business. I was out of line, and I'm sorry." Yuzuriha closed her eyes, the words too much on top of everything else that had happened today. However, she forced herself to stay present and managed a shakey,

"It's okay." She blinked her eyes open, and as Hokuto came into focus, she could tell the apology was completely sincere. "Thank you."

"I know I'm terrible at keeping my mouth shut sometimes," Hokuto continued, "I'm really, really sorry." Yuzuriha sniffed again and wiped her eyes, even though she'd thought she'd cried all her tears already.

"Was it that obvious?" She had to ask even though she dreaded the answer.

"Not at all," Hokuto assured her, shaking her head. "It was mostly a lucky guess on my part." Yuzuriha sighed in relief. "Subaru's way more intuitive than I'll ever be. He fucking X-rayed me the other day." Yuzuriha managed a smile.

"It's weird," she said, after a moment, her gaze suddenly rather wistful. "People tell you not to pretend to know things, but then pretending not to know things is okay?" Hokuto said nothing and Yuzuriha heaved another sigh. "It's exhausting." Hokuto smiled ruefully.

"It is. It's like that everywhere, lying about what you know or how much, but at Babylon it's so much worse."

"It's like telling the truth is spiteful or something," Yuzuriha said, bitterly.

"That's so depressing!" Hokuto laughed, though it was certainly true some of the time. She'd have felt all the time, if not for her conversation with Kakyo.

"I know, I'm just being dramatic," Yuzuriha replied, woefully, thinking that Kusanagi had been kind in telling her the truth, even if it wasn't what she'd wanted to hear. "But fuck if the truth doesn't hurt sometimes."

"It does," agreed Hokuto. They exchanged a rueful smile.

"I'm gonna go lie down," Yuzuriha said, quietly. "But um, thanks."

"Sure." Yuzuriha hesitated, then gave Hokuto a quick hug before going back inside.

Hokuto sighed, feeling better, but rather drained, and returned to her own dorm.

Chapter Text

Fuuma didn't hear from Seishiro at all during the next few weeks of rehearsal. Fortunately, it no longer felt like such a distraction, or something he wanted to escape from. The scab over the old wound left by Seishiro abandoning In Your Silence had been ripped off during their big fight, and though Fuuma knew it wouldn't heal completely until they spoke to each other, it could at least suppurate in their time apart. However, he did break down and text Camellia to ask if she'd heard from him, then ended up telling her that they'd had a fight, and about his conversation with Kusanagi.

'oh god are you okay?'

'of course I am, it just fucking sucks and it's my fault which sucks even more'

'yeah for sure… well I haven't heard from him, I hope he comes out of hiding soon' Fuuma smiled.

'thanks, me too. speaking of coming out of hiding… '

'I'll be up in a few weeks! gotta make my rounds at Oruha and SLA too' Fuuma smiled and shoved his phone into his pocket, suddenly in much better spirits.

"Fuuma?"

"Yeah? What's up?" he asked as Kakyo approached his front row seat in the Igarashi. He also looked much better than he had done since the start of rehearsal: his face was fuller, the dark circles under his eyes were nearly gone and he was much more talkative and expressive.

"Previews start today, right?" Fuuma nodded. "What exactly…?"

"Don't worry about it," replied Fuuma, grinning and waving the words aside. "It's just a rehearsal with an audience. If something's still fucked up it's not a big deal." Kakyo raised an eyebrow.

"Do you think something will be fucked up?" Fuuma laughed, but then shrugged.

"I have absolutely no idea, but I will definitely tell you once we have an audience."

"Does having an audience make that much of a difference?" Kakyo asked, politely incredulous. Fuuma grinned.

"Of course. Wait and see."

"Fuuma?" came Nataku's voice from the theater entrance.

"What's up?" Fuuma asked, arching backwards over his seat to look at Nataku upside down.

"Your photographer's here," he replied, coldly. Fuuma straightened up and rolled his eyes at Kakyo, who hastily stifled his laugh, before heading out into the lobby.

"Hey, Kotori!" he exclaimed, smiling broadly at the pretty young woman by the bar. "How are you?"

"Well enough, and yourself?" She extended her hand to Fuuma.

"I'm good, I'm good," he replied, shaking it.

"That's wonderful. I'm so excited for this, your show last year was phenomenal!"

"Already making jokes, all right, I see you…"

"Jokes?" Kotori repeated, her eyes widening innocently. "No! I'm totally serious! I loved In Your Silence, I saw it twice!"

"Thank you," replied Fuuma, taken aback but touched all the same. He smiled, and she beamed back.

"Is there anything in particular you'd like me to focus on?" she asked, patting her camera bag.

"Nah," Fuuma replied, waving the words aside. "You're the photographer, not me, you do what you think is best. Besides," he nodded at the Yoru poster hung up behind them, "you always do a good job for us." Kotori smiled and placed a hand on her chest.

"I'll try not to be too distracting," she replied, and it was as though her sweetness were contagious.

"You want coffee or anything?"

"Oh no, I'm fine, thank you though!" And with that she hurried into the theater. Fuuma stared blankly after her, but fortunately was almost immediately distracted by the lobby door banging open and an onrush of chattering voices. He turned, and found himself facing all of the students from the Babylon Training Institute summer intensive. The chatter stopped abruptly when they realized who was facing them, and a few gasps were heard in the sudden, ringing silence. Fuuma smirked at their reaction; they'd all seen him around campus at least once, but he figured he could still indulge their reverence a little.

"Good afternoon," he said in a low voice, and the group shivered. Now really, what did they have to be so freaked out about? "How are you all doing, good?" The bravest of them nodded, and a few others followed suit. "Good," Fuuma said, smiling his most charismatic smile. "I'll be curious what you think of the show." Another shiver, and Fuuma turned. "Follow me," he called over his shoulder. This would ordinarily be a job for Nataku or ushers, but he was here, so why not? However, he did know a twinge for Seishiro, who always liked to pull shit like this, or hide behind Fuuma while he pulled shit like this. "Make yourselves comfortable," he told the group, gesturing graciously at the seats in the center section, and the students sat down.

"He's so obnoxious," Satsuki muttered to Kusanagi, who was helping her fix a table lamp on stage.

"Come on, let them keep their fantasy version of him until they actually work with him. No need to spoil the fun early." Satsuki snorted, turned on the lamp and turned it back off again.

"Perfect. Thank you for your help."

"No problem," Kusanagi replied, before heading backstage. Satsuki straightened up and stretched just in time to see Yuuto and Kanoe walk through the door.

"We have an audience!" Kanoe exclaimed, stopping dead in her tracks to smile widely at the assembled students and Kotori fussing with the light meter on her camera.

"Don't you always have an audience?" Satsuki asked, not bothering to keep the hostility out of her voice. However, Kanoe just laughed and tossed her hair as she headed backstage with Yuuto, who had gone red and kept his eyes averted. Satsuki felt a rush of sharp contempt in her chest and a twinge from that old pain in her shoulder.

"Five minutes," Nataku called, suddenly, from upstage.

"Thank you five!" Satsuki replied, sarcastically, waving at him over her shoulder as she made her way up to the lighting booth. Yuuto had tried unsuccessfully to speak to her several times since he'd fucked her during rehearsal. At first it had given her a deeply pleasurable rush of power to deny him, to watch him squirm whenever they were in the same room, to make cutting comments he wouldn't respond to. However, the longer it went on, the less satisfying it became, and she wondered realistically how long it would, or could, continue. If she wasn't even getting anything out of her hostility, was she getting anything out of Yuuto at all? She closed the door to the lighting booth, her space, which he had invaded and desecrated just like her heart and her body. Fortunately, before she could feel too bitter, Fuuma's voice reached her, loud and clear from center stage.

"Welcome, thank you all so much for coming!" he said, loudly and impressively, his arms wide. "We also have a photographer here with us doing some promotional stuff, so try not to get too distracted." He smiled at Kotori, and she shook her head in an embarrassed sort of way. "I think you were warned about this, but just in case, there are flashing lights during Acts Two and Three and gunshots during Act Four. Please don't text during the show and please don't judge us too harshly." With that, he leapt off stage to take his front row center seat. Backstage, the cast stifled laughter while the audience hesitated, then broke into applause.

"Holy shit, Fuuma," muttered Satsuki, killing the lights and starting the music.

The play began smoothly. Fuuma was pleased to see his cast wasn't distracted by the audience or by Kotori flitting about taking pictures. However, he cared far more about the audience, not because he planned on changing anything for their benefit, but because he was genuinely curious about how they'd react. He had ideas and hopes about how the play would be received, though he'd been wrong more than once. So far so good though: the students gasped, laughed and rolled their eyes at all the right places.

"But here the river isn't full of dead bodies and chemicals!" Sorata reminded Subaru, Arashi, Karen, Kakyo and Keiichi halfway through Act One.

"I'd be fine with that if I also got humidity and four seasons," Subaru replied, dryly. One of the watching students burst out laughing, making Fuuma's lip curl.

'Someone's from out west,' he thought.

"Aww it's not so bad," Sorata said, gesturing around the stage. "Here there's space, it's quiet…" he paused, squinting at the screen, "Those train tracks are just for storage though, the nearest train station is far away. Why…?"

"I know why," Keiichi interjected, loudly. Everyone turned to look at him. "Because if the station were nearby, it wouldn't be far away, and if it were far away, obviously it wouldn't be nearby." An awkward silence fell upon the stage while someone in the audience let out a cry of cringing laughter. Fuuma waited, then Kakyo said, loudly,

"Shut the fuck up, Jepsen."

This set off a chain reaction: whoever had just laughed let out another squeaky cry, and a whole tidal wave of laughter from the rest of the students followed. Even Kotori allowed herself a moment to giggle before raising her camera again. Fuuma's smirk broadened as he listened to it build and build, wondering if this had hit on some inside joke they had or if it really was that funny. Either way, he was pleased, though the laughter obscured the next few lines.

"I'm already having trouble remembering what Mom looked like," Arashi said, as the laughter finally subsided. Her arms were folded and she was looking almost appraisingly at Sorata. "No one will remember us, either."

"It's true," Sorata replied, looking just as appraisingly back at Arashi. "Nothing you can do about it though. Everything we care about, everything that all seems so fucking important, someday we'll forget it, or it just won't matter anymore." He paused for a moment, still watching Arashi for her reaction. "What's interesting, though, is we have absolutely no idea what will be important and meaningful, or trivial and stupid. Wasn't all of, what's his name… Copernicus! Wasn't his work all absurd and blasphemous while bleeding and humors were cutting edge science? Someday everything we're used to might seem strange or uncomfortable or stupid, maybe even depraved." Fuuma knew a rush of pride at Sorata's delivery: no pretense, no overacting or tone of saying (or trying to say) something profound. He could feel the audience's attention sharpening.

"Who knows?" Kakyo said, lightly, stretching. "Maybe we'll be elevated and remembered respectfully. It's not like we have torture or public executions here anymore, but of course there's still so much suffering…"

"Do you hear yourself?" Keiichi asked.

"Shut the fuck up, Jepsen."

"I'm just asking!"

Again the audience burst into laughter, though Fuuma picked up a note of growing tension beneath it, which only built over the course of the first act, then intensified during the second. Several people gasped when Sorata and Arashi finally got to kiss (and Kotori was all over them with her camera), then shifted uncomfortably in their seats when they were interrupted. Although that one moment was broken, the residual, deeper strain only grew. Fuuma could feel it powerfully, and he wanted to turn around and watch his audience, though of course he had to stay focused, stop and give occasional notes.

"You're so quiet, Colonel," Karen observed, stretching on the couch. Sorata, sitting beside her, ran his fingers through his hair and stared straight ahead, determinedly not looking at Arashi.

"I know, I'm sorry. I need some tea, I think."

"Tea, yeah," a BTI student muttered to her neighbor, who snorted.

"Irene!" interrupted Kusanagi.

"What?" Karen asked, wearily.

"Please come over here. Venez ici!" he called, patting the dining table. Karen rolled her eyes, but heaved herself off the couch to go and sit across the table from him.

"If there's no tea, we could at least wax philosophical or something," said Sorata, sardonically. Arashi took Karen's vacated seat, though she and Sorata continued to look anywhere but at each other.

"Sure, what about?" Kakyo asked, straightening up.

"Let's be creative," replied Sorata, with just detectable sarcasm. "What will life on Earth be like two hundred years from now?"

"Sure!" cried Kakyo enthusiastically, making everyone laugh. "What if… The people who come after us finally figure out teleportation? Or come up with some revolutionary cut for suit jackets?"

"What the fuck?" muttered a student, sending more giggles rippling out through the group. It was refreshing to be watching with other people, to have new sets of eyes and ears; all the lines that had stopped being funny weeks ago were now hysterical again.

"Or maybe they'll keep jerking off Descartes and actually prove the soul is in the pineal gland or whatever it is."

"Yo…" someone sighed, appreciatively.

"Regardless, it'll still be 'life sucks and then you die,' and in a thousand years it won't change. People will complain about how hard life is but still be terrified to die," Kakyo finished. To give Sorata time to reply, it seemed, he got to his feet and came to stand by the table, watching Karen out of the corner of his eye as if wondering what she thought.

"How do I say this," Sorata began, still not looking at Arashi. "The phrase is 'the only constant is change,' right? So presumably life is always changing, even if we're not conscious of it. So that means everything we do affects the next things that come into being. So what if that's our purpose now? To make the future happier, even if we can't participate in it because we'll be dead." Arashi laughed softly and finally Sorata looked at her. His expression softened into one of deep tenderness and longing. Someone in the audience sighed audibly.

"What's up?" asked Kakyo, crossing his arms and tilting his head to the side. Arashi looked over her shoulder at him, her long neck extending gracefully.

"I have no idea, I've been laughing at nothing all day," she replied, composedly. Sorata swallowed and got to his feet as well.

"Listen, I'm no scholar, I'm not even a good student. I just like to read and want to learn shit. I'm getting old and I still know fuck all, but what I do know, I know really fucking well. I'm convinced there is no happiness, there won't be for any of us, so we should just keep going and working. The happiness is for the people who come after us." Arashi closed her eyes, a soft smile on her face. "Happiness is for the people who come after us."

"So no one's supposed to be happy?" Kakyo asked, incredulously. "What if I told you I am happy!" His eyes darted to Karen, though she and Kusanagi were still pointedly ignoring the conversation.

"No," replied Sorata, bluntly. Kakyo laughed along with both the audience and Satsuki up in the lighting booth.

"You know what? You're not getting it," he said, and Sorata raised his eyebrows. "Trust me. One hundred, two hundred, even a million years, assuming we haven't destroyed each other or the planet by then, nothing will change. It'll stay the same because it works under its own laws that we'll never actually understand."

"Hmm," muttered someone in the audience.

"So what's the point?" Arashi asked, sounding more amused than anything.

"The point!" Kakyo cried, ostentatiously, striding about the stage. "Oh shit, it's raining now! What's the point in that?" Arashi snorted and shifted in her seat, but when she stared into the audience, her eyes were very bright.

"I guess life will always feel pointless if you don't believe in something. Either you know why you live or it's all nonsensical bullshit." Some uncomfortable laughter.

"Getting old is so depressing," muttered Sorata, followed by more laughter.

"A character I love says no two people suffer the same," Arashi added to Kakyo, who replied,

"And I say no two people agree completely. You're exhausting!"

The audience laughed and Fuuma leaned back in his seat, feeling Mr. Aoki most definitely had a point on both counts. His mouth twitched as he saw Mr. Aoki's face clearly in his mind's eye. He was so soft and unassuming, put together and composed, such a glorious subversion of the fucked up writer stereotype. He felt suddenly and strangely hopeful as Keiichi appeared on stage with Yuzuriha and Kanoe to say his line.

"If that baby were mine, I'd fry him in a pan and eat him."

The audience exploded with laughter and Fuuma's chest swelled with pride. He felt buoyant for the rest of the act, and the moment intermission started, he disappeared to avoid talking to anyone and to write down his thoughts and notes. Of course, he returned for the top of Act Three to observe the tone shift and how it would manifest. Fortunately, the moment the music started and the screen lit up, the buried tension of the first half was suddenly brought, raw and sharp, to the surface by fear. Fuuma remained quiet throughout, feeling his audience and observing his cast, relishing this part of the process. No major structural repairs, just fine tuning stylistic choices. "Big picture's coming," Camellia always reminded him during Yoru.

Act Three flew by in a whirl of lights, sirens and emotions just as it always did, but with added flashes of Kotori's camera, and the intermission that followed had many more people leaving the theater for air, cigarettes or phone calls. 'Good,' thought Fuuma. Those people who had remained in the audience were talking quietly amongst themselves, sounding stunned and exhausted. 'Good,' Fuuma thought again, as he jotted down more notes. He reflected again how pleased he was to get the reaction he wanted, though it brought another conversation with Camellia to the surface of his memory.

"It's such a weird position to be in," she'd said, during Yoru's previews. She and Fuuma were out in the lobby with mugs of coffee, and they watched BTI student after BTI student rush into the bathroom in tears. "My person self sees that and feels just awful, you know? But then my writer self goes 'Ooh yes what happened? Where does it hurt?!' It's hard to reconcile." Fuuma burst into laughter.

"Sorry, I'm not laughing at you, just-"

"I know you're not," she assured him, grinning, though her eyes were still fixed upon the bathroom door.

"Curious or sad?" he asked, following her gaze.

"Pick one."

Fuuma got up to disappear once more. He went around backstage this time, though he had no real destination or specific person to talk to. He caught snatches of conversation.

"Kakyo you're doing so well!"

"You think so? I-"

"I did intensives with half the people watching, it's so weird!"

"I can't tell if they love it or hate it, can you?"

"Five minutes, everybody!" came Nataku's weary voice.

"Thank you, five!"

Nataku stepped out right in front of Fuuma and gave the smallest of starts. "Sorry," said Fuuma. Nataku raised an eyebrow a millimeter.

"Eavesdropping?"

"Avoiding overenthusiastic students." The corner of Nataku's mouth twitched, but he said nothing, just pushed past Fuuma to make sure the stage was ready for the final act. Fuuma waited as long as he could before returning to his seat.

Satsuki killed all the lights yet again and everyone took their places in the darkness. The music began, low and morose, as the lights came up to reveal the Perspicuo's back garden. A few people, including Kotori, said, "Oh!" caught off guard by yet another tone shift. Fuuma smirked, his arms and legs crossed, watching and listening.

The act was smooth; the only bumps came from the audience, which Fuuma would be lying if he said he didn't appreciate, particularly as they sharpened and caught at the tension pulling thinner and tighter over the room. The talk of the army leaving, everyone's worry and displeasure against Kirsch's insistence of how happy he was, the discussion of Transeau and Jepsen's fight over Irene…

"I keep hearing about some incident outside the theater yesterday," said Kamui, inserting himself rather awkwardly into Dr. Grant and Maudie's conversation.

"Jepsen started shit with Transeau, words were exchanged, now they've gotta sort it out," Kusanagi explained, shortly, not looking at Kamui but checking the time on his phone. "No idea what the fuck Jepsen thinks he's doing, but…"

"What about Transeau? What if he gets hurt?" asked Arashi.

"They'll be fine," replied Kusanagi, shoving his phone back in his pocket. "It's so stupid anyway, does it matter?"

"They're like kids meeting after school to fight behind the bleachers, it's ridiculous," agreed Kamui, looking hopefully at Arashi, who ignored him and stood up abruptly.

"This is such a waste of time! I won't go into that house anymore, I fucking refuse! Let me know when Colonel Young gets here." And with that, she strode downstage and out through the audience. Kamui sighed and stared sadly after her, pushing the stroller back and forth.

"Our house is being evacuated too," he said, softly.

"Oh god," someone in the audience moaned quietly.

"What about your wife?" Kusanagi asked, turning to face Kamui with his arms crossed.

In the audience, someone whispered, "Oh no…" In the lighting booth, Satsuki's jaw clenched, and backstage Yuuto closed his eyes. He knew what Kamui was going to say, he'd heard it hundreds of times at this point, but after speaking his own lines about feeling content while his wife carried on an affair and her suffering went unnoticed, he felt rather sick. He got up from his seat beside Kanoe, unable to look at her, and began to pace back and forth, feeling simply awful. Unlike Andrew, Yuuto had innumerable reasons for loving his wife, he'd just made a mistake. In his almost constant agonizing over the last few weeks, he'd concluded that he didn't love Satsuki, she just… He looked at his feet, realizing he had no idea how to continue, or even how he did feel, except that he didn't want to feel it anymore. He had to do something.

"Since I'm fucking off tomorrow, I can give you my honest advice," said Kusanagi. Kamui's eyes widened in innocent curiosity. "Leave." Kusanagi got to his feet to awkwardly indignant sputters from the audience. Kamui's expression crumpled.

"Ooh, sorry!" Keiichi whispered to Yuuto as he swerved around him to enter for his cue. Yuuto started and hastily moved out of the way. He couldn't leave Kanoe, he'd concluded that too. He'd have to resolve this with Satsuki some other way, without being tempted into fucking up even more. He pressed his fingers into his eyes, hating himself and the situation but doing his utmost to stay focused and listen for his next cue. "Doctor, it's time to go!" Keiichi yelled downstage at Kusanagi.

"You all disgust me," Kusanagi replied.

"What?" snapped Keiichi.

"Shut up, Jepsen," sighed Kusanagi, before addressing Kamui, "I'll be right back." He followed Keiichi through the audience, singing, "Tarara boom de-ay," under his breath.

"Fuck me," muttered someone in the audience. The scene pulled the momentarily slackened tension tight again as Transeau and Jepsen's final confrontation drew even closer. When Kakyo told Karen he'd like some coffee when he came back from their meeting, someone in the audience let out a sad little moan that seemed to infect the rest of the group, so that by the time Colonel Young was telling Irene, Jackson and Maudie goodbye, several people were breathing shakily as if they were crying.

"I have no idea what to say, I've used up all my philosophy, I guess," Sorata told Arashi in a pained voice. "I've gotta go." He looked in absolutely no rush to do so. "What if hard work was always supplemented by education? And education by hard work?" he tried, with a brave smile, but it was no good. He cleared his throat, then addressed Arashi, while Subaru and Karen drew away to give them a moment. "I just wanted to say goodbye." Arashi's eyes filled with tears.

"Goodbye," she said. He took her into his arms and they exchanged a passionate kiss.

"I know, I know…" Subaru muttered to Karen, his arm around her as they watched the scene out of the corners of their eyes. Sorata and Arashi broke apart, and she cried harder than ever as he held tight to her upper arms.

"Call me and text me, okay? Please?" he begged her in a choked voice. Arashi nodded tearfully. "Fuck, I really have to go, I'm way too late as it is." He exhaled in sharp regret and let go of her, then crossed the stage, clasped hands with Subaru and Karen one last time, then headed off downstage and disappeared into the audience, discreetly wiping his eyes as he went. One of the students let out a shuddering gasp, then sniffed.

'Holy shit is it really that serious?' thought Fuuma as Subaru and Karen rushed to embrace Arashi.

"It's fine, let her cry!" Yuuto exclaimed, entering from upstage right and striding down towards them. "Whatever happened- I don't care, I love you, Maudie!" He extricated her from her siblings' arms and took her into his own. Arashi recoiled, a look of disgust on her face, and for a fraction of a second, utter devastation seemed to fall in upon Yuuto and he let go of her. Taken by surprise at the unexpected move, Arashi stumbled, but recovered herself, wiping her eyes furiously. "You're perfect!" Yuuto continued, clearly trying not to sound desperate, and the air crackled with fresh pain. Fuuma wasn't sure if he liked this change or not, but didn't interrupt. "Jackson's my witness, I want to start over, fall in love again!" Yuuto cried, sounding close to tears himself.

"Calm down please," Subaru said to Arashi, though he was staring in some concern at Yuuto. "Get her some water?" he added to Karen, but before she could do anything, a muffled gunshot cracked through the air like distant thunder, making everyone jump. In the silence that followed, a few horrified squeeks rose from the audience, followed by yet more poorly disguised tears.

'Is it really that serious?" Fuuma thought again, but then remembered that same conversation with Camellia.

"It never feels as impactful to me," she said, her eyes still on the bathroom door through which the crying BTI students had disappeared. "When I'm writing those scenes it's always awful, but then afterwards I'm like, 'oh look he's suffering, that's interesting.'"

"Your heart's getting colder and colder," Fuuma replied in regretful sarcasm.

"Ha ha, if only. Actually feeling my feelings is exhausting."

Fuuma interlaced his fingers and pressed his crossed thumbs to his lips, watching the last few minutes of the scene while his audience's reaction swirled around him like ocean currents. However, he kept his gaze straight ahead, refusing to be pulled off course as the act drew to a close.

"Tarara boom de-ay, I sit in gloom all day, who gives a fuck?" Kusanagi grunted, over the shutter of Kotori's camera.

"I wish I knew," said Subaru, his arms around Karen and Arashi, and the lights all went out, bringing Fuuma sharply back to himself. The curtain call music began to play, growing louder and building as the lights came up again, revealing the cast all standing on stage holding hands. They still hadn't formally decided on how the curtain call was going to look, but they'd been doing this the last week and it was good enough for previews. The audience broke into wild applause, getting to its feet and cheering as the cast took a bow together, then waved and smiled at people they knew and hurried backstage, Kamui with his arm around Subaru, Sorata and Arashi, as well as Yuuto and Kanoe, holding hands.

The applause faded into excited chatter, and Fuuma stood up to address the students, "You can all stay for notes, if you want." The chatter increased in volume as Fuuma approached Kotori, who was putting the lens cap back on her camera in front of the stage. She beamed at the sight of him.

"This is fantastic," she exclaimed, before he could even open his mouth. He burst out laughing; she really was too sweet.

"Come see it once we're open, it'll be even better. I'll comp you tickets." Her eyes shone in the house lights.

"I'd love that, thank you!" she replied, still beaming, then, more businesslike, "I'll upload all of these tonight. Should I send them to you or your PA?" Fuuma hesitated, thinking again of Seishiro.

"Me. Nataku doesn't care about stuff like this."

"No?" Kotori asked, her eyes widening. "But he's so meticulous with everything else!"

"Publicity's not his thing," Fuuma told her in affectionate confidence, "he'll just tell me," he put on his best deadpan expression and tone of voice, "just pick them and tell me where you want them." Kotori giggled, but nodded. She then extended her hand, and Fuuma shook it.

"Fair enough. I'll e-mail you tonight, then!"

"You're the best, thank you." With one last smile and a wave, Kotori gathered up her camera and supplies, then headed out of the theater. Fuuma watched her go, feeling excited to see the pictures, and with a satisfied little sigh, he turned back to the BTI students still in the audience, all of whom froze as though his gaze were a spotlight. "Come closer," he said, imperiously, after a moment. They did so, standing up then filing into the first and second rows. "Did you like it?" he asked, once they'd assembled.

"Yes!" a young woman cried. She sounded rather congested and her eyes were bloodshot and puffy. Fuuma grinned and sat on the edge of the stage, swinging his legs so his heels banged softly against it.

"Not to sound like all your drama teachers, but why?" Everyone laughed appreciatively, and Fuuma gave the young woman an encouraging smile.

"Well," she began, hesitantly but thoughtfully, "I liked all the characters, even though everyone was sort of horrible. I wish things had gone better for them, but, that's why it works." She stared up at him out of her swollen eyes, and though clearly intimidated, she didn't break their gaze. "It was just a chunk out of their lives. We followed them for five years, things happened, but then they settled down again. It was wonderful." Fuuma smiled widely.

"I can ask for no higher praise than that," he replied, and he meant it. The young woman looked stunned, but before anyone else could say anything,

"So I told him, if you put holes in the stage this close to opening night you will live to regret it, I promise you." Kusanagi's patient warning and Karen, Kakyo and Yuzuriha's laughter rang out through the theater as they emerged from backstage. However, they stopped abruptly when they saw they still had an audience. "I'm so sorry, ignore me!" Kusanagi exclaimed, mortified, while Kakyo, Yuzuriha and Karen stifled more giggles.

"Nah, you're fine," Fuuma replied, waving the words aside and getting to his feet. "They're gonna watch while I give notes. Teachable moment for everyone who wants to direct."

"Cool," said Karen, and the four of them sat down on the stage. The rest of the cast joined them in a trickle, and once everyone had assembled, Satsuki descended from the lighting booth and sat down on the stage too, slightly removed from everyone else. "First time in front of an audience!" Fuuma exclaimed, and Keiichi wolf whistled. "Yeah yeah, don't get excited though, I'm not happy," he continued, very sarcastically. Everyone laughed, and he began to give notes to his cast. Hearing the audience's reaction had filled him with new ideas, and though giving the notes didn't take long, he knew applying them tomorrow in rehearsal would. However, he was optimistic, and a half hour later he dismissed everyone in good spirits. He then retreated before anyone could talk to him again, though he paused in the lobby between the Macbeth and Yoru posters to text Seishiro.

'We had photos taken today. I'll e-mail them to you. I'd really appreciate your input'

Yuuto's insides squirmed guiltily at how impatient he felt with Kanoe, but he couldn't help it: all he wanted was to go home, but she kept stopping to talk to people on their way out. He did his utmost to stay friendly and speak politely, but he was barely aware of anything going on around him, so intent he was to avoid Satsuki. He'd barely heard any of the notes Fuuma gave them because he'd been so distracted by her, by her subtle nods, eyebrow raises and lip curls. His heart ached and he prayed Kanoe wasn't watching, then Fuuma addressed him directly.

"What?"

"When you're telling Maudie you wanna keep trying and fall in love with her all over again?" Yuuto flushed, but nodded. "I can't decide how I felt about you letting go of her, so let's workshop it tomorrow, yes?"

"What?" Yuuto asked again, wracking his brains for what Fuuma was talking about. However, when he saw Satsuki roll her eyes at the edge of his vision, he remembered. Arashi's disgust as he'd tried to embrace her and express his love had given him a second's glimpse of Kanoe if he told her what had happened with Satsuki, and it had absolutely terrified him. He forced himself to the present, where Kanoe didn't know and it was just a play. Trying to sound as nonchalant as possible, he said, "Yeah sure! No problem!" But Fuuma was already onto the next critique, and Yuuto swallowed the hard lump in his throat.

Finally, he managed to extricate Kanoe from a drawn out story of some performance of Setsuka's with a BTI student, and they drove home. "Are you all right?" she asked, as they wound their way through the green hills overlooking the sun-drenched valley.

"I'm fine," he assured her a little too quickly, and she raised her eyebrows. "Sorry," he mumbled, flushing again. "I'm just tired, honey, really." She smiled and placed her hand over his on the gearshift. Yuuto wished she wouldn't. Despite how much he longed for it, she couldn't give him the comfort and understanding he needed. He felt another wave of that bone deep loneliness and hated the mess he'd put them both in. He couldn't ever tell her. Obviously he didn't want to hurt her, but he also couldn't bring himself to disrupt what they had, because the more he thought about it the less he trusted that they, like Kirsch and Maudie, would be able to start over and fall in love again.

Fortunately, she made no further inquiries the rest of the evening. Although he was grateful, it made him all the more aware of their disconnect as they had dinner, sat on the porch with drinks and got ready for bed. He felt like they were standing on opposite sides of a gorge, the white waters of his infidelity and secrecy eroding them even further apart. On some level, he knew that his refusal to tell Kanoe, face what he'd done and take the consequences, made him a coward, but he'd take being a coward if it meant their comfortable, safe life together continued undisrupted. But was that even possible, given how it consumed more and more of his mind and heart and body?

Sometime after midnight, he lay wide awake beside Kanoe in their dark bedroom. Moonlight fell gracefully across her sleeping body, her pale skin, her long hair and her slippery nightgown, and out of the gaping space between them, thoughts of Satsuki continually emerged, along with that simultaneously terrifying and comforting thought that she was the only person who could understand him at this moment. Of course, he had no idea how she was feeling or what she was thinking except for her general hostility towards him. He also didn't trust himself to talk to her without fucking up. He flushed as his eyes strayed to his cellphone on his bedside table. What trouble could they get in that way? It might be even more cowardly than not telling Kanoe, but if he finally got some answers…

He texted Satsuki, and pressing send was like pulling a trigger.

Satsuki took another powerful hit from her pipe, then leaned back on the pillows stacked against her headboard. She exhaled the sweet smoke up towards the ceiling, and it was immediately whipped into nothing by the spinning blades of the fan. Its dull whirr and the quiet music she'd put on hours ago were the only sounds to be heard. It was very peaceful, and she closed her eyes, sinking into her pillows.

Then her cellphone vibrated. Blearily, she opened her eyes and reached for it, her body sluggish from all the pot she'd smoked. She saw Yuuto's name, and the usual prickle of irritation seemed dulled as well. She read the text with narrowed eyes.

'Hey… are you up?'

Satsuki stared incredulously at her phone for a moment before replying, 'Yes unfortunately' She felt like her thumb had typed the message of its own accord, but she didn't bother to stop it. She was too high and just didn't care.

'why? What do you want?'

Yuuto's heart sped up sharply as the replies came. He hadn't expected anything, much less anything so quickly. He bit his lip, but didn't shy away.

'I don't know'

The reply sent a ripple of anger up Satsuki's arm and into her chest. Of course he didn't know what he wanted. He never knew what he wanted: that's why he was in this situation in the first place. She was about to reply scathingly, but then more chat bubbles appeared and she held off, waiting for the full scope of the bullshit. She wished she could never hear from him again, banish him to the corners of her mind and body along with all the ugly things he brought out of her. However, she found it weirdly empowering to do this over text, to have that distance from him and barrier between them.

'I want things to be back to normal between us'

Satsuki closed her eyes as if trying to sink into the deep, dark water that filled her intoxicated mind. What did normal even mean?! He had some nerve asking for that given that he'd started all of this in the first place. You proposition your colleague for a threesome, then apparently catch some kind of feelings and then put it back on her? What the fuck? However, as the righteous anger swirled, warm and supportive, in her mind, it seemed to flip over some protective foundation stone, revealing something else, raw and nasty and untouched by light and air for a long time.

Hadn't she also had feelings for him first? Hadn't she lusted after him since her first summer at Babylon? She could still remember the first time she'd met him, chatting to Kusanagi and Hokuto at the bar of the Igarashi on some beginning night. He was so handsome in all the right ways, every detail of his face and body exactly what she looked for. Then she'd found out he was married, the first of many disappointments, and she resolved to think of him as little more than a pretty object. Until of course she'd overheard Fuuma telling that famous story of his threesome with them.

"They do that?" she'd asked, before she could stop herself.

"Oh yeah," Fuuma replied, grinning. "Didn't you know? You've been here way longer than me, how the fuck did you not?"

"I keep my hands and mouth to myself," Satsuki replied, coldly. Fuuma burst out laughing and left Satsuki to ponder the information.

Eventually, of course, she had brought it up to them. She could get it all out of her system and be done with it, except their night together had made it allmuch worse. Apparently for both of them. How could she have been so naive?

She opened her eyes and texted him, wearily, 'what the fuck does that even mean?' She watched the chat bubbles appear, disappear and reappear again.

'I don't know'

She made a contemptuous noise, though she knew intuitively that his response was honest. Probably the most honest thing he'd said to her the whole time they'd been doing this. In spite of that, or perhaps because of it, she lost her motivation to reply scornfully, but before she could think of anything else to say, he texted, 'I'm sorry. I never meant for this to happen' Satsuki shuddered, knowing that this was honest too. The words were like bright sunlight on the feelings and memories she'd kept in the dark and cold and wet, and they dessicated in the sudden exposure. She waited, then her thumb seemed to move of its own accord again.

'I'm sorry too'

She had no idea what she was apologizing for, or even if she had anything to apologize for in the first place. However, it made her feel better almost immediately, and she knew she didn't want or need to see anything else he had to say.

She put her phone on airplane mode, placed it on her bedside table and lay back upon her pillows, the whir of the ceiling fan soothing her slowly to sleep.

Yuuto swallowed at her message, his eyes suddenly stinging. He put his phone down, rolled over and wrapped his arms around Kanoe. "Yuuto?" she groaned, sleepily. She rolled over to face him, her eyes still closed. "Bad dream?"

"Yeah," Yuuto replied, his throat burning. She held him close and kissed him on the forehead. He buried his face in her chest, but no tears came. He just lay in his wife's arms, breathing deeply, feeling drained and empty.

Chapter Text

At 4 pm, Kamui's phone alarm sounded, loud and jarring, from Subaru's bedside table. He groaned, rolled over and shut it off. "Where'd you go?" Subaru asked in a sleepy moan, pawing softly at Kamui's upper back. Kamui smiled, rolled back over and pulled Subaru into his arms.

"I'm here," he assured him, burying his face in his neck.

"Mm…" Subaru kissed him on the top of the head. "How much time do we have?"

"Two hours to call," Kamui breathed, then, "dress rehearsal…"

"Already?" Though of course it was no surprise. The entire cast had been talking about it since previews had tightened everything up. Subaru kissed Kamui on the top of the head again, inhaling deeply through his nose. The smell of his hair was wonderfully familiar now, but no less intoxicating.

"It's so weird," Kamui said, withdrawing from Subaru's neck to look him in the face, "soon we'll be having this same moment before our final show." Subaru laughed.

"You sound like Andrew."

"Yeah, well…" Kamui kissed Subaru softly on the lips. "I'm really glad I got to meet you," he said, stroking his hair.

"Likewise," Subaru replied, quietly. Another kiss.

"I know there's still time," Kamui said, after a moment, "but I really hope we can keep this up once we're back in the city." He blushed, but stared earnestly back at Subaru.

"Didn't that go without saying?" Subaru asked, smiling widely.

"I can't read your mind," Kamui reminded him, though he was smiling too.

"True," conceded Subaru, and they exchanged yet another kiss. "You're so sweet."

"Yeah yeah, don't tell anyone." Subaru laughed, pulled Kamui flush up against him and rubbed his face in his hair.

"We should start to get ready, Hokuto's making a big dress rehearsal dinner."

"Mm…" Kamui snuggled as close as he could into Subaru for a moment, then extricated himself from the embrace and the blankets and sat up. His hair was sticking up at odd angles, and Subaru's heart swelled in his chest.

"You're so cute," he said, still smiling broadly. Kamui pulled a face, but then grinned too.

"I try. Come on, let's go."

Twenty minutes later, they were washed, dressed and on the dorm's back porch with Karen, Kakyo and Keiichi. Hokuto was serving an extravagantly prepared dinner on the old wicker table, which was sagging slightly under the weight of every pot and plate in the dorm's kitchen.

"This is so nice of you!" Yuzuriha exclaimed, arriving from across the grass with Sorata and Arashi.

"It was nothing, especially with Karen, Keiichi and Kakyo helping me!" Hokuto replied, gesturing with her wooden spoon as if it were a magic wand.

"Slave driver," Keiichi muttered.

"What?"

"Nothing!"

Everyone laughed, but then Kakyo mouthed, "He's right!" the moment Hokuto had her back turned. Everyone stifled more giggles, and Kakyo smiled, very pleased with himself. The last few weeks of rehearsal had been the happiest of Kakyo's entire life. His conversation with Hokuto had taken away an astounding amount of pressure, both from him and from their relationship, leaving him more light and free and optimistic than he'd ever felt before. 'Is this how normal people feel all the time?' he kept thinking to himself. Regardless, he was incredibly grateful, both to be feeling better and because he didn't think he'd be able to perform in front of people otherwise.

"How are you feeling about opening night?" Karen asked him, quietly.

"As good as I can be, I suppose," he replied, "I'm not really sure what to expect, so…"

"You'll do great, I know it," she told him, very seriously. Kakyo flushed, but smiled at her.

"Thank you." Karen beamed back at him; his accepting her compliment without argument or question was deeply gratifying. She caught Hokuto's eye, and they exchanged a knowingly affectionate smile. Karen thought Kakyo was lucky to have Hokuto's help, but she hoped Hokuto knew how fortunate she was to have Kakyo's in return.

"Do you need a drink?" Sorata asked Arashi.

"Yes, but I'll get it," she replied with a smile and a kiss on the lips. "Does anyone else need anything?"

"Sure!"

"That'd be great!"

When everyone told her what they wanted, Arashi went into the kitchen. It made her inexpressibly happy to be able to hang out like this with friends, do kind things for them and accept their gratitude. She couldn't remember ever feeling this way around any other group of people, and part of her brain wanted to remind her it wasn't permanent, or else ask her what she'd do once the season was over. However, she was able to answer confidently, "I'll figure it out," then, using another new skill she'd acquired, put the question to bed.

She filled two glasses with water and one more with juice, thinking how easy it would be to give Sorata and Yuzuriha all the credit for everything she'd learned. However, despite how helpful their care and support were, she'd done the real heavy lifting inside, and she felt really proud of herself for the first time in years, or maybe ever.

The moment Arashi disappeared into the kitchen, Kamui, Keiichi and Yuzuriha all clapped Sorata on the shoulder and ruffled his hair. "Get off," he whined, blushing, though of course he was beyond pleased. He'd hoped to spend the summer learning about his character, about relationships and patterns, but it all ended up coming back to himself. He couldn't be surprised though: he was where all of it began and ended, but what he'd learned was immeasurably helpful. His chest swelled and a broad grin spread across his face as Arashi stepped back out onto the porch, and yet again, he felt like the luckiest person in the world.

Yuzuriha beamed as she watched them together, detached enough now from her own feelings to be happy for people in a situation she envied. Sorata and Arashi's relationship wasn't a negative reflection on her, they were just lucky, weren't they? And, in any case, they were good for each other in this moment. As she accepted her drink from Arashi, she reflected further that the detachment wasn't denial, as it usually was. It wasn't binding or painful, it was just a relinquishing, and she was incredibly grateful for it.

"Does everyone have drinks? Food?" Hokuto asked. Everyone nodded, and those people still standing or helping her serve dinner took their seats around the wicker table. However, before they could start eating, Keiichi cleared his throat, and his castmates turned to look at him.

"I know not everyone's here, but I just wanted to say you all have been an amazing cast to work with," he said, loudly, "I couldn't have asked for more. My first show at Babylon Theatre Company, working with Fuuma Monou and playing a character who means so much to me, all with such an awesome group? It's an honor and a privilege!"

"Here here!" exclaimed Kamui, toasting him and squeezing Subaru's hand under the table.

"I wanted to save that for the cast party, but-" His voice broke, and he paused and cleared his throat.

"Aw, Keiichi!" Hokuto exclaimed, while Karen reached across the table to squeeze his arm.

"Sorry," Keiichi said, clearing his throat again. "Anyway, dig in!"

Everyone laughed, toasted each other and began to eat.

Satsuki arrived at the Igarashi early to do one last sound and light check before everyone else showed up and got under her feet. She'd expected to find the place deserted, but when she entered the theater, Kusanagi looked up from behind the dining table center stage at the same time Nataku emerged from the wings. They all looked rather startled to see each other, but then exchanged a familiar look of solidarity.

"Checking up on things?" asked Kusanagi. Satsuki and Nataku nodded.

"That is my job," Nataku replied, sarcastically, though the corner of his mouth twitched.

"And thank fuck for that," Satsuki added, raising her eyebrows as she looked around the theater. However, as she imagined her lights and her sounds playing off the sets and performances, she felt that familiar kinship with Kusanagi and Nataku. Their mutual respect, support and solidarity, which she'd always appreciated, hit her strongly all of a sudden, and she wondered where Hokuto was, their other comrade in arms. 'Probably with her project and the assorted hangers on,' she thought, though her contempt was edgeless.

"Do you two want to come over later?" Kusanagi asked. "If we don't get out super late?"

"Sure," Satsuki replied, with a half shrug.

"Maybe," Nataku grunted, his mouth twitching again. They all shared a small laugh, then went back to work.

Satsuki climbed into the lighting booth, making sure everything was working okay, then going through all of her cues. Satisfied, she returned to the lobby to get herself some coffee at the same moment Yuuto and Kanoe walked through the door. All three of them paused, and Yuuto's eyes widened as they locked with Satsuki's. However, she felt absolutely no desire to instigate, or to do much of anything, really. Backlit by the golden evening light coming through the windows and their late night texts, she saw him and their situation clearly. Yuuto was what he was, and what he was wasn't what she wanted. It had been interesting, but far too painful, and she wanted to move on. He smiled bravely at her, and though there was definitely a trace of sadness in his eyes, when he spoke, his tone was normal.

"Here early too?"

"Obviously," she replied, pouring herself some coffee. "I had a sound effect fuck up on me once in high school, never again. Now I can laugh about it because it wasn't my fault, but still."

"Was that when your klaxon got lost so your friend just stood backstage and screamed?" Yuuto asked, more bravely than he felt. Satsuki smirked.

"Yeah. I'm honestly impressed no one on stage laughed because it was really, really funny."

"I'm sure!" cried Kanoe, tossing her hair. As Satsuki blew on her coffee, it occurred to her how much easier it was to just speak to them as colleagues, without all the underlying personal bullshit. That part of her that Yuuto's texts had revealed, only to be dried out and healed, was no longer pulsing with resentment. Nothing would erase or change what had happened or how she'd felt, but at least now she could shove it away and never acknowledge it again. "His Majesty will probably be here soon, we'll leave you to it," said Kanoe, rolling her eyes, and with that, she and Yuuto left to get into costume. Yuuto had his hand on Kanoe's lower back, but gave Satsuki one last parting look over his shoulder. Satsuki ignored him, reaffirming to herself she wanted no part in this nonsense anymore. She took a determined sip of coffee, burned her tongue and swore.

"You okay?" someone asked from the doorway. Satsuki knew that voice, but it had been years since she'd heard it. She turned and, to her astonishment, saw Fuuma and Camellia walking into the lobby.

"What?" Satsuki asked, eagerly but bemusedly. "Where did you come from?"

"Nowhere important," Camellia replied, grinning. "I'm up here for something else and just happened to run into Fuuma in town," she continued, raising her paper cup of coffee.

"Why doesn't anyone have the decency to tell me where they're gonna be and when?" Fuuma asked, despairingly. Camellia looked incredulously at Fuuma, then at Satsuki, then continued as though there had been no interruption.

"I'm going to stay for the dress rehearsal, don't tell anyone." Satsuki laughed and Fuuma sighed defeatedly.

"Okay, I know I deserve that."

"When did he become self aware?" asked Camellia out of the corner of her mouth, in a tone that suggested she was concerned for Fuuma's health.

"Yesterday," replied Satsuki, to more laughter. Why did all the idle banter she was stuck in today actually feel good? When had that ever happened before? "So what else are you here for?" Camellia smirked.

"I'm fucking one of the principal dancers of a company performing over at SLA," she replied, gesturing vaguely in its direction.

"She was a punk, he did ballet," Fuuma sang. Both women ignored him.

"Oh," Satsuki replied, unsure how to take this.

"Yeah. His opening night's tonight, but his wife is gonna be there so I'm not going." Fuuma roared with laughter, but Satsuki found the words, however brief and rude, fit into some long empty and weirdly specific keyhole in her chest. Although she had no desire to unlock the door it belonged to, she felt some muscle under her shoulder blade release, and finally the pain that had been plaguing her there since tech was gone. She gave a little shudder, but managed to smile.

"Fair enough," she replied, and Camellia smiled back, tilting her head to the side.

"My number's still the same, text me after the show," she said, and Satsuki nodded.

"Sure." And she actually meant it. She then turned on her heel and headed into the lighting booth.

Camellia stared after her, a strange but deeply familiar expression on her face. "Curious or sad, Tsubaki?" Fuuma asked her, when he'd stopped laughing.

"Good question," she replied, and they headed into the now deserted theater together. "Where should I sit?"

"Wherever you're comfortable," Fuuma replied, graciously. Smiling over her shoulder, Camellia snuck into the box of seats just below the lighting booth directly opposite the stage. These were usually reserved for Setsuka's, and now Seishiro's, most important guests. "Fuck me," he muttered, before throwing his bag into one of the front row seats and climbing up on stage with his coffee.

He'd run into Camellia at the little garden café in town when he'd stopped in on a whim. He'd recognized her at once where she stood chatting with the barista as she'd made her drink, and his face broke into a wide smile as he approached. "Tsubaki?" She turned and hastily stifled a scream before throwing her arms around his neck. He picked her up and would have swung her around if not for the confined space.

"You asshole, I was gonna come to your rehearsal as a surprise!" she cried, when he set her back on her feet, her face glowing as she looked up at him.

"Fucking up plans is what I do, you know this about me," he replied, still grinning.

"Truly! Go order your drink and let's catch up!" Fuuma did so, and once they both had paper cups of coffee, they sat outside at one of the small wrought iron tables. "You finish 20,000 Leagues yet?" she asked, without preamble, leaning forward on her elbows.

"You finish your stage adaptation yet of it?" Fuuma countered, raising an eyebrow.

"Yeah, and I might just ask you to direct it."

"Wait, seriously?" Fuuma asked, dropping his playful tone at once. Camellia nodded, her expression also softening.

"Yeah, it doesn't have to be here, but,"

"It could be," Fuuma interrupted. Now Camellia raised her eyebrows.

"I thought you were out after this season?" Fuuma took a deep breath in and sighed it out.

"Circumstances change," he said, evasively, then, before she could say anything, "I mean it'll depend on Seishiro, ultimately, but," he paused and took a sip of coffee and Camellia nodded.

"Letting go of resentment helps," she said, quietly. Fuuma smiled. "So does realizing the part you played. If reading 20,000 Leagues Under the Sea taught me anything, it was that." A rather embarrassed smile played around her mouth.

"You mean it wasn't not to list names of species of fish for like, forty six pages?" Camellia snorted into her coffee.

"Listen, you let a marine biology nerd narrate a story, that's what happens!"

"HA!"

They talked for the few more minutes they had to spare, then Fuuma drove them both to BTC. Clow was actually busy for the first time all summer with people coming in for opening nights, and when they passed the famous author's house they saw lines of cars parked outside it. Fuuma suspected it was for some welcome or donation event.

"Hello," Fuuma said, smiling at the entrance to the theater as his cast arrived for call. They all smiled and waved and said hello back, and by the time everyone was assembled in costume on stage, the whole room crackled with energy. "Fucking finally, right? How are you all feeling?!"

"Awesome!" Keiichi cried to laughter and applause.

"You guys have been fucking incredible, I mean that," said Fuuma, his voice lowering slightly. He knew people were rolling their eyes, but he didn't care, and he felt a rush of gratitude towards all these people who had helped him achieve his vision. "Good show everyone, take your places!" He jumped backwards off the stage and threw himself into his front row center seat, ready.

His cast obeyed, leaving the stage empty, until Satsuki killed the house lights and Nataku took downstage center. He looked so serious, he reminded Fuuma of his elementary schoolmates in public speaking classes. "Good evening and welcome to tonight's production of Paying A Call To The Prozorovs. This is just a reminder of housekeeping things: turn off all electronic devices and no photos or video recording. It says so in your program but just in case: there are flashing lights in Acts Two and Three and gunshots in Act Four. There are four exits," he paused to point at them as a flight attendant would, "and of course, no talking or smoking. I believe that's it, thank you all very much and enjoy the show." Fuuma and Camellia applauded as Nataku retreated backstage. All the lights went out, the music sounded, and Act One began.

Fuuma watched his show with rapt attention, his eyes narrowed as he contemplated every detail. His concentration was so absolute that before he knew it, Subaru delivered his last line, the entire theater went dark and the curtain call music began to play. I found empathy, from madness… Deliverance, from malaise… My heart is filled with gladness, and you're the only spirit that I crave… It was like Fuuma's entire body, not just his vision, zoomed outwards, so he saw clearly what the show had been at the start, what it had become, and what it was going to be. Black, water, black… Water… A wide smile spread across his face and his heart swelled in his chest as he watched the cast assemble on stage to take the bows they'd finally choreographed. Black, water… Fuuma applauded wildly as the cast took one bow as a group, then in turns: Yuuto, Kanoe and Sorata went first, then Keiichi, Kakyo and Kusanagi, followed by Kamui and Yuzuriha, and finally Subaru, Karen and Arashi. Black, water… They all lined up again, then raised their arms in an appreciative gesture towards the lighting booth, before taking one more bow together and heading backstage as the music finished on a morose saxophone note.

Fuuma stopped clapping abruptly and rushed the stage, leaping up onto it as his cast came sprinting out to meet him. The wide smile he was still wearing was mirrored back at him on every face, and the room throbbed with proud, excited energy. "Pretty fucking good, right? How are you guys feeling?!"

"Good!"

"Great!"

"Amazing!"

"Fantastic. While I've got you all focused I'm gonna give you your notes, then get the fuck out of here and enjoy the rest of your night, okay?" Some appreciative laughter as everyone made themselves comfortable. "Satsuki?"

"Yes?" she asked, making her way over and looking pleased with herself despite her tone.

"Just making sure you were here," Fuuma replied, placatingly, before, "so that first scene change? I'd like to see-"

Giving everyone their notes took no time at all; everyone was so excited there was no arguing or debate, though really, there wasn't much to say anyway. Feeling entirely confident about the following night, Fuuma dismissed his cast and returned to the lobby, where he was pleased to find Camellia waiting for him. His stomach suddenly gave an excited squirm, but she just laughed and took another running leap into his arms. He let out an excited cry and swung her around this time.

"I'll text you once I've collected my thoughts a bit," she breathed in his ear. He set her back on her feet and saw her face was still glowing. "But holy shit Fuuma."

"In a good way or a bad way?"

"In a very good way. I'll text you!"

"Yeah yeah." They looked at each other for a moment, and his stomach squirmed.

"You've got a good crew here," she told him, then, "I'll be in touch!" Before he could say anything else, she turned on her heel, left through the glass front doors and was immediately swallowed by the blue black night. Fuuma watched her go, thinking that during Yoru the two of them and Seishiro would have gone out for drinks and conversation. His stomach gave yet another squirm, but if she was serious about working with him again… He heard a garble of indistinct voices float out from the theater, and immediately retreated. Like all nights after rehearsal these days, he wanted space, and he wanted to leave his cast to themselves.

As he crunched down the gravel path to the parking lot, he looked fondly over the campus, quiet and still under the velvety, star strewn sky, and thought of this time tomorrow, when it would be packed with people, when the stars wouldn't be visible for all the headlights. He got into his car, rolled down his windows and turned up his music.

Close your eyes and drive on down… Bathed in white, I see you in the dark…

Fuuma drove at a leisurely pace, passing the author's old house and all the cars still parked outside it; travelling along Clow's main street, still unusually crowded; and out of town into the hills, still peaceful as ever. The only lights were the stars and his car's headlights, and he felt rather like he'd been shot up into space. He turned up his music and sang along, "Don't you know the night moves every direction? High above the clouds the stars are amazing…" He wondered what his cast was up to tonight, if they'd be responsible and go to bed or stay up celebrating. "Lights out! Electric!" he sang, speeding up. Tsubaki had told him he had a good crew, and he couldn't agree more. It had been a pleasure watching them all grow and mature and change, and he couldn't wait to see what happened next. "Time is on our side, I, can feel it." He wound through the rolling hills, looking out over the valley below, absorbing the moon and starlight in its deep blackness. He then rounded his corner. "Lights out, electric, I-" He pulled into the driveway and slammed on the brakes so suddenly the car stalled.

-don't wanna wake up, I'm dreaming…

Seishiro's car was parked in the driveway, and had Fuuma not been paying attention, he would have rear ended it. "What the fuck?!" he cried, restarting the car impatiently and pulling up beside Seishiro's with a loud screech. He shut off the engine, grabbed his bag and tore across the yard, breath harsh in his chest and blood pounding in his ears. He leapt up the back steps and sprinted through the porch into the kitchen, and knew immediately that Seishiro was there. He could feel it. The very air in the house was tingling with it, but he refused to believe it completely until he saw him.

He thundered upstairs and turned automatically towards the bedroom at the end of the hall. The light was on and the door was ajar. Fuuma let out the tiniest of longing moans and sprinted towards it, his vision tunneling in on the narrow beam of light spilling out onto the floor. He stopped dead in his tracks before entering, his heart in his throat and breath painful between his ribs. He took a moment to collect himself, swallowed, then knocked. The sound faded into the tense, thick silence that saturated the house and pressed on Fuuma's throat, chest and belly. For a second, or maybe it was a day, a year or a century, all was still. Fuuma closed his eyes and held his breath.

"Come in." Fuuma exhaled and pushed the door open with a soft creak. Seishiro was sitting up in bed, his laptop on his thighs, still in his dress pants and button down shirt. He didn't look at Fuuma, but raised his eyebrows at his computer screen, his expression as unreadable as ever. Fuuma stood on the threshold, rooted to the spot with no idea where to go. Possible strategies chased each other through his mind, but none of them made sense, let alone stuck. A buzzing like a cloud of insects filled his ears, and the moments dragged by until finally, "You fixed the screens." Fuuma shuddered, wanting simultaneously to burst into laughter or a furious tirade. However, he did neither, and just said, rather lamely,

"I told you I would." Seishiro began to type, and for another few dragging moments the only sound was the clicking of computer keys.

"You cleaned up Setsuka's room too," Seishiro continued, tapping the center of the mousepad with a little flourish before snapping his laptop closed. Fuuma had no idea how to respond to that, so he remained quiet. He hated this. He hated how insecure and off base he felt, particularly after feeling swelled full of confidence so recently. Maybe trust really was everything, because in that moment, when Seishiro was so unreadable and unreachable, trust felt like an old moldy rope with which he was supposed to climb to safety. He watched Seishiro set his laptop on the bedside table, then slowly get to his feet. He then fixed Fuuma with an uncharacteristically demanding stare that made him square his chest and stand up a little straighter. Seishiro wanted something, and he knew he'd have to provide it, but if he acted too quickly or presumptuously, everything would disintegrate. Unfortunately, being patient wore on his nerves as nothing else did. "I'm going to the show tomorrow," Seishiro informed him, eventually.

"I'm glad to hear that," Fuuma replied, and fuck if that wasn't true. Seishiro tilted his head to the side, his gaze still demanding.

"Are you?" he asked, a hint of challenge below his cool tone.

"Yes!" Fuuma replied, stung. Seishiro nodded thoughtfully, but said nothing. Fuuma waited, a sudden gnawing in his chest, and the very air around them tautened. The only sound now was the ticking of Seishiro's watch on the bedside table and Fuuma's pounding heart. "I'm sorry, but what the fuck?!" Fuuma exploded, when he could stand it no longer. Seishiro's lip curled as though he'd expected this, and Fuuma's frustration shattered into jagged shards in his chest, making every breath and heartbeat painful. "I'm sorry!" he continued, every word costing him. "What I said to you was fucking disgusting and I deserved all of the fallout! I fucked up and I'm sorry!" Seishiro said nothing, and the swirling shards of frustration tore at Fuuma's insides. "Did I fuck our shit up irrevocably? Because if so just tell me right now and I'm fucking gone!"

"Don't do that," Seishiro cut in, impatiently. "I know you're done here, but that's just childish." Fuuma closed his eyes and clenched his jaw, shame pouring out of the wounds in his chest, but he managed to remain in control of himself. He swallowed painfully and opened his eyes.

"You know I actually had no idea how much that fucked everyone up, me talking about leaving?" he told Seishiro, unable to keep the snap out of his voice though his very being ached with regret. "I swear to god," he pressed on, noticing Seishiro's eyes widen for a fraction of a second, "I wasn't trying to be that guy or make a point or whatever, I genuinely had no idea and I feel fucking awful." He expected Seishiro to contradict him or make some other disbelieving comment. However, he just folded his arms and stared back at Fuuma, his gaze demanding again. "So let me explain?" he offered instead, when he was confident he could keep his tone somewhat in check. Seishiro nodded stiffly. "I guess I'm still hurt that you dipped out on me during In Your Silence and that's how it came out. I'm sorry. I hope I haven't completely fucked our shit up because that's all independent of working here every summer. Even if I found some other gig, I wouldn't just dip out your life like that." He shivered as he said it, but noticed his heart was beating more freely, even though it ached to see genuine surprise flash across Seishiro's face. "I mean that," he said, forcefully, "but I also understand if I went too far." He swallowed the sudden burning in his throat, realizing that however crude and angry he'd been, saying all of that out loud had released something. He stared at Seishiro, who stared back, and again Fuuma could see him as that small boy in his mother's arms in that photograph downstairs, or as a quiet, secretive teenager playing the Doctor in Macbeth because someone important had asked him to.

Because someone important had asked him to.

Fuuma held out his hand, wanting more than anything to pull Seishiro onto his side of the chasm between them, to get them back on the same page. Something tightened in Seishiro's face as his eyes darted between Fuuma's outstretched hand and pleading face and back again. He hesitated for a few more terribly painful seconds, then reached out and took Fuuma's hand.

Relief flooded Fuuma's entire body in a warm, glorious cascade, and before either of them realized what was happening they had their arms around each other and were kissing more passionately than they ever had before. Fuuma felt his brain disengage as Seishiro scrabbled at his upper back, intent on getting his t-shirt off. Fuuma groaned and obliged, breaking their kiss for a fraction of a second to pull it up and over his head before diving back in for more, thrusting his tongue into Seishiro's mouth and fumbling with the buttons on his shirt. Seishiro moaned softly too and tried to help, though his hands were shaking too badly to do much besides shrug it off.

At once Fuuma pulled him as close as he could, his chest warm and smooth against his own, both of their hearts pounding in their desperation for each other. Fuuma broke their kiss again, this time to move his lips to Seishiro's neck, groaning as he inhaled his shampoo, his aftershave and his cigarettes, wonderfully familiar and absolutely electrifying. Keeping one hand at his back to hold him steady, he shoved the other into his pants to grip his ass. Seishiro exhaled softly and tilted his head to the side, giving Fuuma more hot skin, and the gesture charged through his heart and erection. Had his brain been working, he might have commented on it, or made an obvious noise of satisfaction or approval, but that just wasn't important right now.

Seishiro reached between them to start undoing Fuuma's jeans, making him shiver in excitement as his pants and underwear came halfway down his thighs, then gasp as Seishiro seized his erection and began to stroke him. Taken completely by surprise but loving every second, Fuuma echoed the gesture, taking hold of Seishiro and pleasing him hard and fast, groaning at how turned on he was. Seishiro gasped and buried his face in Fuuma's neck, breathing hot and heavy in his ear. "What do you want?" Fuuma asked, softly rather than commandingly. Truthfully it didn't matter what Seishiro said: he'd give him anything he wanted in this moment. Seishiro sighed and kissed Fuuma's neck almost tenderly.

"I want you inside," he breathed against his hot, flushed skin. Fuuma's breath caught in his chest and his erection throbbed in Seishiro's hand.

"Okay," he moaned, and turned to catch Seishiro's lips in one last, soulful kiss before pulling away to step out of his jeans and throw himself into bed. Seishiro followed suit, lying down beside Fuuma, who immediately took him into his arms. Seishiro threw his leg over Fuuma's hips, and they kissed that way for a long time, tangled up in each other, Fuuma's hands up and down Seishiro's back and in his hair while Seishiro held tightly to the sides of his face, keeping him locked in their kiss. Fuuma's body was on fire, the source igniting perpetually in his chest, pumping blood and heat and passion out through his veins as if by force. His erection was begging for more of Seishiro's touch and his heart for something deeper. Fuuma rolled them over so he was on top, Seishiro's legs still tight around his waist, and thrust up against him, teasing at what they both wanted.

"Keep going," Seishiro moaned, his hands shaking as they held Fuuma's face. Fuuma nodded and withdrew wordlessly. Seishiro reached his arms above his head, gently arching in his lower back as Fuuma wrenched open the bedside table drawer and retrieved lube and a condom. Seishiro brought his feet flat onto the bed and allowed his knees to fall gently open. Fuuma paused in the act of squeezing lube onto his fingers to take in the view. However, rather than stare shamelessly between Seishiro's quivering thighs or at his flushed, heaving chest, he fixed his gaze upon his face, on his blushing cheeks, parted lips and deep dark eyes. Fresh heat surged up in Fuuma's chest and he smiled widely as he pressed two slicked up fingertips against Seishiro, who closed his eyes, took a breath in, then allowed him inside with a sigh.

"Mmhmm," Fuuma breathed, moving his fingers in and out exactly the way Seishiro liked it.

"Oh god," he gasped, his hands grabbing onto his pillow and eyes closing exultantly. Fuuma groaned and kept going, stretching and exploring until- "That's enough," Seishiro gasped, opening his eyes blearily. Fuuma nodded and withdrew his fingers, slid on a condom and lubed himself up, always maintaining fierce eye contact with Seishiro.

"Like this?" he asked, quietly, taking hold of his erection and guiding it into place. Seishiro nodded. Slowly and carefully, Fuuma slid in, Seishiro melting around him millimeter by millimeter until he was completely sheathed inside. He exhaled sharply and fell forward on top of him, breathing hard in his ear. Seishiro wrapped his arms and legs tight around him and rubbed his cheek against his, giving them both a moment but making the request. Fuuma withdrew his hips, and-

"Slow." The word sent a hot surge of arousal through every nerve of Fuuma's body. He bit back a moan and pulled away to stare Seishiro hard in the face, his heart pounding so hard he could practically feel his arms shaking with the reverberation.

"Slow," Fuuma agreed, before kissing him hard on the lips. He withdrew his hips and thrust back inside, slowly but deeply, and Seishiro shuddered violently and moaned into his mouth. Fuuma's erection pulsed almost painfully hard as he repeated the move, Seishiro's response echoing in his own body. He knew at once that neither of them would last long, but it didn't matter. He pulled out of their kiss to bury his face in Seishiro's neck and moaned, really moaned, into his ear. Seishiro cried out softly and dug his heels into Fuuma's lower back. "Oh fuck yes," Fuuma groaned, and Seishiro shuddered and let out another soft cry. Fuuma felt so in sync, so connected, and it was intoxicating in a way he'd never experienced before. He loved it, and he felt Seishiro did too. He snuck his arm underneath him, making his lower back arch again to get a better angle.

"Oh!" Seishiro moaned, his thighs squeezing tight around Fuuma's waist and inner walls squeezing tighter around his erection. "Like that!"

"Like that?" Fuuma gasped, pulling out and thrusting back inside. Seishiro closed his eyes and threw his head back in a soft gasp of ecstasy. "Oh fuck," Fuuma moaned, low and guttural, before kissing Seishiro hard on the lips again. They melted against each other as they moved together in perfect harmony, pleasure and friction building steadily and deliciously until Fuuma couldn't take it and pulled out of their kiss. They stared into each other's eyes, both of their expressions hard and blazing. "I'm gonna come if I keep going," he warned Seishiro, his thighs shaking and erection throbbing. Seishiro's eyes widened and his lips parted in a deeply aroused gasp, but then he nodded and reached between them to take hold of his own erection. "Fuck yes," Fuuma gasped, speeding up just enough but never losing the angle that had them both at the perfect, glorious edge. "Look at me!" he cried in a constricted voice. Seishiro's breath caught in his chest and he locked eyes with Fuuma, his own wide and glassy but so, so wanting and receptive. Fuuma's vision tunnelled in on his handsome face and his entire body seized up, his desire catching him in a sudden vice grip. "I'm gonna come!" he choked, and saying it aloud was all he needed.

He came, hard, deep inside Seishiro. His entire body gave a great shudder as his pleasure released him from its clutches, sending sensation and emotion rushing out through every nerve of his body. However, he kept moving, his eyes still locked on Seishiro's face, his expression rapt and ecstatic as he received him. "Me too!" he gasped.

"Good!" Fuuma needed it, and a split second later Seishiro shuddered violently as he came too, spilling himself all over his hand and belly with a satisfied groan. He kept stroking himself, never breaking eye contact, until he was completely spent.

Fuuma was upon him at once with a soft, needy moan, kissing him hard on the lips and holding him as tight as he could. Seishiro's clean hand found Fuuma's hair and held onto it, though his grip was rather slack in his satisfaction. Fuuma shivered at the gesture, pulled out of their kiss and held Seishiro's face in both hands. He wanted to say something, anything that might even begin to convey the depth of what he was feeling, but his brain was still disconnected, and he doubted he'd be able to put it into words anyway. He stared at Seishiro for a long time, still holding his flushed face and buried inside him, until he finally said, softly but clearly, "I'm so glad you're here." Seishiro just gave a little shiver and nodded.

A warm smile spread across Fuuma's face and he kissed Seishiro one last time on the lips before finally pulling out. They cleaned up in silence, then turned off the light and curled up under the covers, embracing face to face. Fuuma's brain was beginning to come back to him just as he was starting to drift off, and though it reminded him that they still had more to talk about, that this wasn't enough, it didn't bother him. They would talk as best they could once they had their feet back under them, and, for now anyway, not speaking, just feeling and listening, was absolutely perfect.

The Igarashi was the place to be the following night.

The lobby was full of people: cosmopolitan elderly couples, BTI students, curious young people and groups of friends of all ages. They were all gathered around the bar, admiring Kotori's photographs, now blown up and displayed proudly in front of the windows, comparing notes on their programs or smiling at headshots of people they knew.

Fuuma and Seishiro had avoided any and all attention by arriving early, then hiding in the box of Setsuka's special seats. They sat side by side, along with Hokuto and Mr. and Mrs. Aoki. He remembered sitting here with Seishiro and all the board of directors his first year here, then with Seishiro and Camellia the following year, then by himself last year. Their view was perfect, level with downstage center but far enough back to see everything. At the moment, the stage was empty, though he could practically hear his cast chattering excitedly backstage. He'd wished them all break a leg and good show right at call, and their excitement was truly infectious. He bounced his leg up and down in anticipation, watching the theater fill up and listening to the audience's excited conversation.

"How are you feeling, Fuuma?" asked Mrs. Aoki, leaning across her husband.

"I have absolutely no idea," he replied, just as he had done to everyone else who'd asked him that question today.

"We'll see when it's over," said Seishiro, warily, and everyone laughed.

The house lights suddenly flickered, and the tension in the theater sharpened as all the stragglers in the lobby rushed into the theater to find their seats. After a minute or so, the house lights went off, and in the sudden darkness, Fuuma took Seishiro's hand and received a squeeze in return.

Nataku emerged from the wings, and the audience broke into applause. His expression didn't alter a bit as he delivered his speech, and more applause followed him as he returned backstage. Mr. and Mrs. Aoki and Hokuto all joined in, but Fuuma and Seishiro held tight to each other's hands as Satsuki killed the stage lights. The now deeply familiar music of Act One began to play as the screen glowed into life upstage and the dark shapes of Subaru, Karen and Arashi took their places. Fuuma's lip curled.

"Al right," he said, so only he and Seishiro could hear. "Let me see it."