Chapter Text
“The moon and the stars…?” Rui blinked, his lips curving upwards into an intrigued grin. “Where is this coming from?”
They were sitting at a small booth in a quaint cafe near Phoenix Wonderland. Large windows near the front provided plenty of sunlight for the rather few customers, and though the space was small, potted plants and a generous amount of wall ivy on the brick walls made the atmosphere cozy instead of cramped. Perhaps most importantly, it was quiet enough to discuss their next show without worry of being drowned out by the noise of a crowd.
“Me and Nene had a sleepover this weekend!” Emu explained, voice brimming with excitement. “We watched the stars together. They were sooo pretty, Nene even drew some costumes inspired by them!”
“Oh? Care to share, Nene?”
“They’re a bit rushed, but…” She laid the sketchbook flat on the polished wooden table, opening it up and flipping page after page until she reached one with a few sketches of costumes, one for each of their troupe members. Despite Nene’s words, the designs were intricate–rough, sure, but the concepts were undeniably eye-catching.
“Don’t be so hard on yourself,” he said after a few moments, taking his time to look over each one. “These are great. Did you have any ideas for the play itself, besides the costumes?”
“Well, nothing too fleshed out, yet–”
Emu jumped in, practically jumping up from her seat, too. “The play would be about a friendship between the moon and the stars!”
Rui tilted his head. “A friendship?”
Emu nodded rapidly, leaning forward slightly. “‘Cause the moon and stars are always together. We only ever see one when the other is there–they’ve gotta be best friends!”
Ah. The spark of inspiration submerged his mind with ideas; there were countless possibilities for how they could interpret otherwise inanimate objects into life-like characters. Not to mention, the inclusion of more fantastical elements themed around celestial objects gave him plenty of room for experimentation with regards to stage mechanics.
Someone in particular would be an excellent test subject.
It was unfortunate that Tsukasa couldn’t make it today, though his sister’s illness of course took priority; they would just run the ideas by him another time. Rui smiled a little to himself at the thought of proposing new stunts for the self-proclaimed star to perform. The disbelieving look on his face and incredulity in his voice, only to be opposed by the determination in his eyes–
Oops. Nene seemed to have noticed his attention escaping the group for a second, glancing at him with a raised brow. Back to business, then. Based on the costumes… “I’m meant to represent the moon, then, I presume? And Tsukasa the stars?” He looked at Nene, gesturing to the other two designs. “What about you and Emu?”
“We couldn’t really decide–that’s why our costumes are a bit on the generic side right now,” Nene shrugged, “but one idea we had was me as a representation of humans or some kind of leader, and Emu as a messenger.”
“I see, we’re taking a mythological route, then. Tsukasa and I would be personifications of the stars and the moon that humans can communicate with through Emu, right?” Rui lifted a hand to his chin in contemplation. “We could definitely work with that. Imaginative as usual, you two.”
Emu beamed. “I’m so excited! This is gonna be our best show yet!”
“That’s the goal,” Rui chuckled. “Nene, did you want to take the lead on costumes again?”
Nene nodded. “Yeah. I’ll probably take some time to rework the designs and decide what materials to use before getting started, though.”
“Sounds good. Now, let me know what you think about something like this for the story…”
It ended up taking a while–it was far too easy for Rui to get lost in the exhilaration of planning a new performance–but with some back-and-forths, the three of them managed to narrow down a general storyline. They’d kept Tsukasa updated in the days after with their plans, though it was difficult to bounce ideas off of each other as they normally would when text was their only medium.
By the time Tsukasa sent them a text explaining that Saki had recovered enough to be discharged from the hospital nearly a week later, Rui had developed a rough script, along with many, many notes he’d made in the margins as he reviewed it. While Tsukasa would typically have assisted with the writing, he’d asked Rui to handle it this time around; naturally, he’d obliged, but the request itself was indicative of how much energy Tsukasa was spending looking after Saki. Rui couldn’t help his concern despite reassurance from the other that he was fine.
Tsukasa still couldn’t make it to their usual meetup spots since Saki was on bedrest; instead, the three of them agreed to visit the Tenmas’ place so that their leader could be included in show discussions without having to leave his sister’s side. Emu was particularly enthusiastic about the idea–Rui got the sense she’d missed seeing Saki at school.
(He missed seeing Tsukasa just as much, though he wasn’t certain how willing he was to admit that.)
☾₊ ⊹
The sound of hurried footsteps from inside followed Emu’s rapid taps on the door. Soon, Tsukasa appeared before them with a smile. “Hey, come on in!”
For a fraction of a second, Rui was frozen still on the doorstep. It was reasonable that Tsukasa would look a bit unkempt, having spent day and night looking after his sister. What Rui couldn’t have predicted was the odd feeling in his chest upon seeing Tsukasa’s slightly tousled hair and wrinkled white shirt, the top button left loose. He couldn’t have predicted the urge to reach out and adjust his collar and smooth out the unruly fabric.
Then again, maybe that was to be expected, too. He wasn’t used to seeing Tsukasa in that state. Anyone would feel the same way.
He didn’t know why it felt as though he were convincing himself of something.
A moment too late, which hopefully went unnoticed by the others, he followed Nene and Emu into the house. Tsukasa closed the door behind them all. “Thanks for coming over, everyone, and sorry for missing the last meeting.” He let out a huff. “It’s unbefitting for a troupe leader and future star to be absent during such important discussions. I promise to make it up to you all!”
Emu spoke up immediately. “Don’t worry, it’s okay! It’s more important that you’re looking after Saki.”
Nene nodded. “She’s right. Speaking of, I brought Saki cookies from that bakery she likes. There’s some for us to share, too.”
“Oh, that’s really thoughtful of you, Nene. Thank you!” Tsukasa took the box from her hands before heading into the kitchen, presumably to set out the cookies on plates. “You guys can go ahead and get settled in the living room,” he called over his shoulder, “I’ll join you as soon as I bring some of these up to her.”
“Wait, I wanna go see Saki, too!” Emu shouted, promptly running after Tsukasa into the kitchen.
“Emu! Careful, you nearly made me drop the plate–”
Rui chuckled to himself. He wouldn’t be all too surprised if one thing or another got broken–such were the consequences of putting Tsukasa and Emu in a room together. As he took a seat on the plush gray couch and began sifting through the papers in his bag, Nene tapped his shoulder.
“You’ve been weirdly quiet. Is everything okay?” she asked, sitting down beside him. Her tone was quiet enough that Rui doubted Tsukasa or Emu could hear her over the commotion they were making.
Ever the observant one, since the instant they met as children. It often presented itself at Rui’s expense. “Everything’s fine,” he answered smoothly, “I’m just thinking about our next show.”
Muffled laughter and increasingly distant footsteps interrupted their little conversation as Tsukasa and Emu ran up the stairs.
Nene stared at him, her expression skeptical. “Isn’t that what you’re always doing, though? I mean, I honestly would’ve expected you to poke fun at Tsukasa or something by now.”
“Isn’t that your job?” Rui laughed with an easy shrug. “Anyway, I suppose this show’s just particularly catching my interest.” That wasn’t a total lie; he had already spent a considerable portion of time on writing and envisioning how each scene would play out, and he still felt nowhere near done.
Nene still didn't look like she really believed him, but she thankfully let the topic rest; either she figured it was a lost cause, or she would find ways to pry more out of him later. It was a shame he really didn’t have much to give. There wasn’t anything wrong, at least, nothing that he could pinpoint.
In any case, Nene gestured to the stack of paper Rui had retrieved from his bag. “That’s the script, right?”
“Yes, here.” Rui handed a copy of the draft over, and it wasn’t long after he had set out the other copies before Tsukasa and Emu returned. They took seats on the opposite side of the little coffee table, on the chairs Tsukasa had presumably put there beforehand. A plate of cat-shaped cookies with light yellow and pink icing was set on the table, several of which were already in Emu’s hands.
Rui was decidedly not staring at Tsukasa and his somehow messier hair (had Saki or Emu ruffled it while the three of them were upstairs?).
Rui was decidedly not thinking about running his own hands through Tsukasa’s hair.
He reached for one of the pastries–he needed something else to look at–and gestured towards the papers on the table. “Alright, then. You can all take a look at the script and let me know what you think.”
After a while, Tsukasa was the first to speak, furrowing his brows as he flipped back through the pages he’d already gone over. “Hang on, Rui, why does it always say I’m ‘floating’?”
“Because you’ll be floating for the majority of the show. Was that not clear?” The director feigned an innocent smile.
Tsukasa spluttered. “Isn’t that a bit impractical?”
“We can make you something like a harness to attach wires to throughout the show, so it won’t be much of a hassle. It’ll take some effort on your end to learn how to balance while being suspended, though,” Rui hummed. “But I’d say it's worth immersing the audience in the mythical nature of the story, wouldn’t you agree?” He was actually considering using the same technique for himself, but Tsukasa’s reaction was more fun when that fact was omitted for the time being.
“... I guess you have a point, but do I seriously have to hang from wires the entire time?”
Rui tilted his head. “You can use a jetpack instead, if you’d prefer. I still have those rockets from last ti–”
“On second thought, the wires are fine–!” Tsukasa cut in quickly, eyes widened.
Rui grinned. “I knew you’d come around.”
Tsukasa sighed, flipping to another page. “Wait a second, now it says my costume is going to ‘burst into flames’?? Why do some of your ideas feel like an attempt on my life?”
And then he was looking up at Rui with that endearingly incredulous expression again.
… Hm?
In an attempt to file that thought away, Rui let out a laugh. It sounded dangerously fond. “Don’t be so dramatic. You won’t actually be on fire, just your costume.”
“Did you forget that I would be inside the costume?!”
“Not that I’m opposed to Tsukasa being on fire,” Nene interjected, to which Tsukasa let out an indignant noise, “but how are you planning to pull that off?”
He internally thanked Nene for giving him another train of thought to focus on. “I have a couple of ideas. Flash paper or flash cotton would probably do the trick, I’d guess. I’ll play around with both and let you know before you get started with costumes.”
“I feel like I’m more of a subject of some science experiment than an actor sometimes,” Tsukasa muttered.
Emu giggled. “I think it’ll look super cool! The audience is sure to be so surprised!”
“Fine, fine,” he grumbled, “You better make sure I don’t burn to a crisp, Rui! The world’s future star can’t go out like that !”
“Hehe, do you really have such little faith in me?”
No one needed to know it, but he wouldn’t forgive himself if he let Tsukasa get hurt.
Tsukasa always had enough trust in him to agree to stunts on the riskier side, and Rui didn’t ever want to lose that trust. It was hard to think of anyone else who could match the lengths Tsukasa would go for the sake of putting on a good show–and, if he were to be a bit self-centered, for the sake of allowing Rui’s passion for the craft to reach its full potential. The thought of that brought about something warm in his chest.
Tenma Tsukasa truly was something special.
As the four of them discussed other parts of the script, jumping from one scene to another, the thumping of footsteps coming down the stairs pulled their attention away. Rui looked up from the notes he was scribbling over the scene just before the climax of the play. Before Saki had even made it to the landing, Tsukasa had gotten up from his seat and rushed over to her side, visible worry in his pinched brows.
“Saki, what are you doing? The doctor said to rest!”
“I wanted more cookies!” Saki grinned, waving around an empty plate for emphasis. “And to talk to everyone while I’m at it. I’m already feeling better, anyway.”
Tsukasa looked conflicted. “Are you sure? You only got out of the hospital a few days ago–and should you even be having that much sugar?”
“I’m sure! I’m out of the hospital for a reason,” Saki reassured with a pout. “And c’mon, a few cookies won’t hurt me.”
“I… Alright, alright,” Tsukasa sighed. “At least let me help you walk.”
Saki rolled her eyes. “I can walk just fine, silly.” Nonetheless, Tsukasa wrapped his arm around her back and propped her arm over his shoulders. Once the pair made it over to the table, Tsukasa seated Saki in his own chair before grabbing another from the kitchen, placing it between Rui’s end of the couch and Saki’s chair.
It might've been a little strange of Rui to become so immediately entranced by the protective side of Tsukasa that revealed itself so easily in Saki’s presence. Although, like before, he’d brush it off to be the natural intrigue that came with discovering new sides of his friend.
Rui wasn’t sure how well that reasoning held up when, at some point during their meeting, Tsukasa had leaned towards him to point out a particular part of the script, and Rui’s heart rate had inexplicably risen.
☾₊ ⊹
Another week went by before Saki had recovered enough for Tsukasa to be able to meet them at the Wonder Stage. In the meantime, Rui spent his afternoons there alone, putting together stage mechanisms, and his nights revising the script–plus, as he promised Nene, experimenting with a few types of materials for Tsukasa’s costume.
It was nearing the end of summer; the warmth of the sun was gradually diminished by the cooling air, the occasional breeze rustled the deep green foliage scattered around Phoenix Wonderland, and the light of day didn’t last quite so long. The crowds within the amusement park became less dense, which meant a slightly smaller audience, but it was hard to deny that their rehearsals were much more pleasant in the milder weather.
Rui was the first to arrive, sitting on the ledge of the stage to wait for the others. Four copies of their finalized script in hand, he flipped open the one at the top of the pile before placing the rest down beside him.
He halfheartedly skimmed over each page. Despite having proofread it enough to know most of the play by heart, something didn’t feel entirely right to him. Granted, it wasn’t uncommon for changes to be made even after the group had begun rehearsing; what was unusual about this, though, was that he couldn’t put his finger on what was missing. Rui had never liked having a problem he didn’t know how to fix.
Leaning backwards until he was lying on the floor of the stage, script held above him, he dragged a hand over his face. Whatever was bothering him was subtle, too much so for him to even narrow it down. Was it the pacing? Maybe the final confrontation needed more of a buildup. Or was there not enough development of the moon and stars’ relationship? There were plenty of scenes between them, but–
The sound of someone climbing onto the stage beside him pulled him away from his thoughts.
“Rui! You’re here earlier than usual.”
Somehow, despite the shadow that his figure cast over Rui, Tsukasa’s presence made the world feel a little warmer.
“I can’t let you show me up all the time when it comes to punctuality, can I?” Propping himself up with his elbows, Rui shot Tsukasa a smile. “Ready for rehearsal?”
Tsukasa beamed, taking a seat next to him and crossing his legs.
Oh, how bright this star was.
“Absolutely! I didn’t contribute nearly enough during the planning stages, and we haven’t even been able to run our usual show schedule because of me, so you can be sure that I’m going to give this rehearsal my twelve thousand percent! This show must be enough of a spectacle to make it up to our audience!”
He certainly looked to be in better spirits than he had been when Rui last saw him. Saki’s illness must have taken a heavy toll; as intriguing as he found Tsukasa’s protectiveness over his sister, he much preferred seeing the usual joy and conviction in those pretty honey-glazed eyes over worry and unease.
“Is that so?” Rui chuckled. “In that case, I'll be sure to be extra tough on you in our upcoming sessions. How would you feel about swinging down from the very top of the stage~?”
“Wh–hold on a second, there's no need to go that far…”
Just then, Emu and Nene appeared at the edge of the clearing around the stage. “Tsukasaaa! Ruiii!” Emu shouted, running towards them. Nene continued at her typical pace behind her. In a blur of pink, Emu practically tackled Rui and Tsukasa to the floor of the stage. “I’m so excited to finally start rehearsing–it’s gonna be wonderhoy!”
Had Tsukasa’s yelps always sounded so–
“Hey, hey, I almost hit my head!” Tsukasa chided, but there was no real heat in his words.
“It’s good to see you, too, Emu,” Rui laughed, pushing himself up into a seated position once the girl let them go. Tsukasa followed suit, patting himself off with a fond smile and a shake of his head.
Nene had reached the stage by now, setting down her bag on one of the seats in the front row. “Sorry it took us a bit longer to get here. I had to stop this one from buying enough candy to make her sick.”
“But they looked so good! I know you were thinking it too, Nene.”
“I–I guess, but I still wouldn’t have eaten that many…” Nene crossed her arms. “Anyway, can we get started?”
☾₊ ⊹
“I’ll only say this one last time.” The script in his left hand and a prop sword in his right, Tsukasa raised the blunt edge until it was pointed at Nene. Several robotic soldiers laid defeated around them as the two of them faced off at the center of the stage. “I’m not here to hurt you. All I need is the relic. Please, just hand it over, and your kind will be left alone.”
Despite her shaking hands, Nene stood her ground. “The relic has saved countless lives, and will no doubt continue to do so. For my people’s sake, I can’t just give that up!”
“You don’t even know what kind of power it holds, nor the harm it deals,” Tsukasa hissed, narrowing his eyes. “Moonlight–that’s what the relic is made of. Every use of its magic, every life saved comes at the cost of pushing the moon itself towards an eternal slumber! Do you understand the consequences of your actions, human?”
“I…” Nene closed her eyes for a moment, conflict embedded in her somber expression and tense posture. Then, she steadily met Tsukasa’s gaze. “I do, but my responsibility is my people. I hope you’ll understand that.”
“Then, I’m afraid you leave me no choice–”
“Wait!”
Rui’s voice from the far end of the stage immediately caught the attention of both Tsukasa and Nene. Keeping his sword drawn, Tsukasa glanced behind him, and the sight with which he was met made his eyes widen.
Running across the distance separating them, Rui stood between him and Nene, Emu following closely behind. His voice was slightly breathless as he held out a hand, a weak attempt to diffuse the situation. “Please, stop fighting.”
Tsukasa paused, taking in the scene unfolding before him before speaking again. “You shouldn’t be here.” Looking at Emu, he added, “Why is he here?
“I’m sorry!” Emu cried, “But I couldn’t let you see this through.”
“I know you’re doing all this for my sake, but…” Rui clenched his fists. “The messenger showed me the amount of good that relic has done. You couldn’t imagine how many lives depend on it.”
“W-what are you saying?” Tsukasa uttered. His knuckles went white as he gripped the handle of the sword, still raised and ready to attack.
Rui carefully touched the end of the blade with his fingertips, pushing down ever so slightly, until the weapon was slowly lowered. The heat of Tsukasa’s gaze bore down on him. “I’m saying, this might not be worth it. One life for thousands…”
“Isn’t any less worth saving.” Tsukasa began to walk past Rui.
“This isn’t your decision.”
Tsukasa froze in his tracks at the intensity behind the stern words. He took a strained breath. “What?”
Finally having truly secured his attention, Rui moved to face Tsukasa, gently taking hold of his arm. “It’s my life on the line, isn’t it? This is my decision, not yours.”
“I…” Tsukasa started, but trailed off, unable to find a response. His eyes defeatedly flicked away from Rui’s.
Nene spoke up, softly, from where she stood by a throne. “Is there anything else that can be done?” As the others turned to her, she continued. “I can’t give up the relic. But seeing how selfless you are, and all you’ve given to us,” she nodded towards Rui, “if there’s absolutely any other way I can help, I’ll do it.”
The four of them stood in silence. Then, just as Rui said, “Thank you, but I don’t think–”
“There… might just be a way. Well, sort of,” Emu said at the same time. Rui blinked, turning his gaze towards her.
“What? What do you mean?” Tsukasa asked immediately, hope and desperation swirling behind his eyes.
“There’s an old spell,” Emu began, hesitant. “It requires a huge amount of power to cast, but it can turn deities into mortals. It would separate you from your magic, so the relic won’t be linked to you anymore.”
“A mortal?” Tsukasa echoed, furrowing his brows. “That’s just delaying his–that doesn’t solve anything.”
“I know.” Emu lowered her head, wringing her hands together. Her voice grew softer with sorrow. “But it’s the only other choice we have.”
“The power for the spell has to come from the relic, I presume?” Rui murmured. Emu nodded.
He addressed Nene, “And you’ll let us use it?”
“Of course,” Nene answered solemnly. “I’ll take you all to it now, if you’d like.”
Tsukasa closed his eyes for a second. They were all waiting for him to–well, perhaps to say he was making a decision wouldn’t be so accurate. He just had to come to terms with the fact that they’d run out of options. When he opened them again, there was a resolve so fierce that Rui was on the brink of quivering beneath it. “Alright, fine, but I have one request. Cast the spell on me, too.”
Rui’s eyes widened. “What? Why?”
“I only started all of this so that I didn’t have to lose you. At least this way, I’ll have you by my side until the end of our days.” Tsukasa’s voice, albeit quiet, was genuine and easy, sounding as though his answer was the most natural thing in the world. Stepping closer, he put the sword away in the makeshift sheath at his waist and used his now free hand to take hold of Rui’s. The intertwining of their fingers felt almost familiar, as though they were made to exist beside each other.
The expression with which Rui was met as he gazed down at the exquisite star before him was unbearably soft, the small, bittersweet smile curving his lips filled with affection. “And before you say anything–you’ve made your decision. Now, I’m making mine, and I’m choosing not to bear an eternity without you.”
Rui took a sharp inhale. Oh God .
He had feelings for Tsukasa, didn’t he?
He’d known exactly what was coming long before they’d even begun the scene (well, not the hand holding–that was a rather good choice on Tsukasa’s part), yet his heart fluttered at the conviction and emotion with which his written words were brought to life. For several moments, he could feel each thrumming beat of that pesky little organ in his chest.
This is an act , he reminded himself, Tsukasa is only playing his role .
That little smile and the feeling of Tsukasa’s hand in his were burned into his memory nonetheless.
“... Okay,” Rui whispered. He wasn’t so sure whether he’d meant for his voice to tremble.
How ridiculous.
The last parts of the play’s final scene and the ensuing musical number went by in a blur, Rui’s thoughts admittedly a bit distracted. He still managed to give the others some advice on their performance, but it was suddenly strangely difficult to look at Tsukasa.
Evening was beginning to creep into the sky, the expanse of vivid blue gradually deepening as the first wisps of light orange crawled up from the horizon. The temperature had dropped considerably by the time they started packing up. As he put on his jacket and stepped off the stage, Rui felt an infuriating mix of wanting to spend more time with Tsukasa and desperately wishing to flee from the cause of all his troubles.
“Good work today, everyone,” he said as Nene and Emu followed him down from the stage, having put away their props backstage. “I’m impressed that we managed to read through the entire play. We’ll start back at the beginning and work on polishing some scenes tomorrow.”
“Okay, bye guys!” Emu waved over her shoulder as she began walking off. Grabbing her bag, Nene followed with a last nod towards Rui and Tsukasa. “See you tomorrow.”
Rui smiled. “Get home safe.”
When he noticed that Tsukasa was still on the stage behind him, he looked back. That was his first mistake. Tsukasa was achingly beautiful as the light breeze tossed his hair about, peach-tipped strands glistening in the sunlight.
“Tsukasa?” Rui internally cursed how… fragile his voice sounded. He could only hope it wasn’t as noticeable as it felt to him.
“Oh, you can go on ahead, Rui,” Tsukasa smiled, almost a bit sheepish. “I actually wanted to rehearse some more.”
Rui frowned slightly. “We’ll be continuing tomorrow, anyway. You should get some rest.”
“I will, later! I just feel like I need a bit of extra practice first; but I won’t be long, don’t worry,” Tsukasa assured, though it wasn’t the most convincing statement. “Though, you live farther from here than I do, right? You should get home before it gets too dark.”
Rui’s second mistake was the decision he was about to make.
“Well, if you’re staying, I can’t very well leave my star actor alone, now can I?”
☾₊ ⊹
Rui had lost count of the number of mistakes he’d made to get here.
One of them was definitely losing track of time and letting their little extra rehearsal session run this late. The sun was well on its way approaching the line where silhouettes of distant buildings cut into the sky, the light washing over them turning a vivid gold to match the dazzling orange and red-pink hues above them. On any other day, Rui would probably be admiring the view, but something else was holding his attention hostage.
“That’s it! I’m going down there and finding the relic myself,” Tsukasa muttered. The panic in his eyes was more than convincing as he kneeled over Rui, who had stumbled to the ground, clutching at his chest.
Rui’s mind went blank, and he couldn’t even bring himself to glance at the script in his hand to recover the line he’d forgotten. Why had he never noticed how utterly magnificent Tsukasa looked under the sunset? Or had he noticed before, but refused to acknowledge it?
The way his golden hair glinted and his eyes shone made it an irrefutable fact that Tsukasa belonged in the skies; at least, his glow was far more brilliant than any star’s that Rui had seen. The red-tinted shadows cast over his features made them appear at once sharper and softer, somehow. At this point, Rui was convinced that the only thing stopping him from reaching out and carefully tracing over that expanse of sun-warmed skin was some divine force hellbent on preserving his dignity.
Tsukasa was staring at him–oh, right, his line was next. It was really a bit unfair of him to expect Rui to function properly when he looked like that , but he was willing to forgive him, just this once. Or maybe Rui would always be forgiving when it came to him.
He cleared his throat, glancing at the script in his hand. “I… doubt the humans would hand over something like that so easily.”
Tsukasa’s hold on Rui’s arms tightened. “Then I’ll take it from them by force. I’ll do whatever is necessary,” he vowed, before suddenly breaking character and leaning away. “Oi, you okay?”
“Huh?” Rui responded intelligently. He tried not to mourn the absence of the warmth of Tsukasa’s hands.
“You look–I don’t know, kind of out of it. If you’re tired, we don’t need to keep going.”
“... Right, I think we’ve done enough for today,” Rui chuckled. He wasn’t so much tired as completely distracted, but he supposed the effect was the same. “What do you say we wrap things up here?”
Tsukasa nodded, to Rui’s relief. “Yeah, okay. Sorry for keeping you here this late.” He stood up and held a hand out to Rui, looking down at him with that captivating smile, and Rui wondered how his heart hadn’t burst out of his rib cage yet.
“You have nothing to apologize for,” he assured, taking the offered hand and pulling himself up. Tucking the script under his other arm, he began to turn towards the edge of the stage. “I’ll see you tomorrow, then–”
“Rui, wait,” Tsukasa called. Rui looked over his shoulder to see the other hastily putting away his props and hurrying back to Rui’s side. “Um, can I walk you home? It’ll probably get dark before you get to your house, which is kind of my fault, so…” He trailed off with a chuckle, though it sounded as if he had more to say.
When he didn’t continue, Rui replied in a teasing tone, “Are you suggesting that you’ll protect me?”
Tsukasa spluttered and glared at him. “You don’t have to put it like that! Now it just sounds dumb.” His annoyance was conveyed far less effectively with the light dusting of red blooming over the tips of his ears.
“Sorry, sorry,” Rui giggled. “Come on, then, my knight.”
“That just proves you’re not sorry at all,” Tsukasa muttered, but fell into step beside Rui regardless. While it might’ve been true that Rui didn’t feel all too remorseful about the comment, he couldn’t deny that he was touched by the gesture.
If only it had come at a better time. Walking under the sunset with one’s newly realized crush probably wasn’t exceedingly helpful for the psyche. He couldn’t help taking fleeting glances at Tsukasa with every few steps they traveled, and felt a peculiar warmth creep up the base of his neck when honeyed eyes met his–which only worsened as Tsukasa smiled while their gazes were still caught upon one another. It almost resembled the one he’d used in their rehearsal, during that final scene.
Rui looked away, took a breath.
As they walked into the main area of the theme park, he spoke. “Tsukasa, may I ask you something?”
Tsukasa turned, quirking a brow. “Sure, what is it?”
“How do you feel about the play?”
“How do I feel?” A beat passed, filled only by the murmur of the dispersing crowds. “It’s definitely more dramatic than what we’ve done in the past. I was honestly a little surprised at first.” He let out a small laugh, rubbing a hand against the base of his neck. “But I’d say that’s a good thing! Keeping our audience on their toes and showing them that we’re capable of putting on shows that evoke all sorts of emotions is essential to reaching stardom!”
“I’m glad you think so,” Rui chuckled fondly. “I’m also all for deviating from our status quo, of course. Though, I suppose the question I really wanted to ask was whether you feel that there’s anything… missing?”
“Missing?” Tsukasa echoed. “Not really. At least, I don’t think there is; do you?”
“There’s something that feels a little off to me, yes,” Rui answered, gazing at the landscape ahead of them. “I’m just lost as to what that would be.”
A note of frustration had crept into his voice. Among several other things, he would prefer not to admit the extent to which he would let down his guard around Tsukasa, voluntarily or not.
Two children, looking around seven or eight years old, ran past Tsukasa with delighted laughs, very narrowly avoiding a collision. A father sent him an apologetic look before running after them.
Tsukasa huffed in amusement before looking back at Rui. Something in his expression made it clear that he’d noticed Rui’s tone. “Well, I trust your judgment, but I don’t think you have anything to worry about. If you do figure out what’s bothering you, feel free to bring up changes as you see fit.”
With a dazzling grin, he continued, “But the script is perfectly fine as is. Take it from a star actor, you’re a storyteller of the highest standard! None of us would be here without your expertise–and my excellent performance in bringing it all to life, but I digress.” Tsukasa’s smile softened. “Point is, the shows you write are the kind that make me fall in love with theater all over again, so you really don’t have to worry too much.”
“Ah,” Rui murmured, his eyes flicking back to the other. As it was, he was already far too deep in infatuation for his liking, but then Tsukasa just had to go and say something like that and send him spiraling even further.
“... Thank you, Tsukasa.”
“Of course! A troupe can’t put out its best work unless all of its members are confident in their craft, after all.” Tsukasa nudged Rui’s arm lightly. “Especially when it comes to my prized director, right?”
The laugh that escaped past Rui’s lips was warmer than all the colors streaked across the sky combined. “In that case, it certainly helps when my dearest star offers such flattering words.”
An odd look crossed Tsukasa’s face then, and he wondered if he’d perhaps taken the banter a bit too far. When a silence stretched on, Rui was just about to attempt to amend his mistake, before a quieter response was uttered.
“I mean, it’s easy to say those things about you.”
With the way the soft-spoken words were almost carried away by the wind before they reached Rui, he wondered if he was meant to hear them at all. In either case, he had heard, and it was his turn to struggle to think of a reply.
He didn’t realize he’d been dumbfoundedly staring until Tsukasa cleared his throat. “Ahaha, sorry. That was a weird thing to say, wasn’t it?”
Rui blinked. “No, it’s fine. I just wasn’t expecting that.” A moment of hesitation, then he added, “For what it’s worth, the same could be said about you.”
Tsukasa was quiet again–too quiet. Not even his footsteps could be heard. Stopping in his tracks, Rui turned around to see his companion a few steps behind him. The expression he wore probably resembled the one that had occupied Rui’s own face just a minute ago.
Rui wasn’t sure what to make of that.
“Tsukasa?” he prompted, “Is something the matter?”
“Oh, um, nope! I was just–” Rapidly glancing around, Tsukasa’s eyes landed on a booth a short distance away. “–looking at that ice cream stand. Wanna go get some?”
Rui raised a brow, though he chose not to question the rather unconvincing excuse, or the offer to buy ice cream when the gradually diminishing sunlight made the air around them yet colder. “Sure,” he chuckled.
Before long, they were on their way out of the park’s entrance, Tsukasa having paid for both their orders (matcha for Rui, mango for himself). It turned out that the ice cream was a good idea after all; it gave Rui an excuse not to speak as he tried to smother the thoughts going haywire in his mind, Tsukasa’s words replaying over and over all the while.
“So,” Tsukasa started as he finished off the last bites of his cone. “Have you figured out how to set me on fire yet?”
“Oh, yes,” Rui hummed, a satisfied lilt in the sound. “Flash paper attached to some flash string around your costume would work for what I had envisioned, and the materials themselves shouldn’t be too noticeable as long as we’re careful with the design. I expect it to be quite the spectacle.”
Tsukasa stared at him, brows raised, before shaking his head. “I don’t know what’s scarier–how you keep coming up with these kinds of ideas, or how you somehow always find ways to pull them off.”
Rui let out a soft laugh. “Calm down, the rest of the costume will be fireproof. You’ll hardly even feel the heat.”
Tsukasa narrowed his eyes, the corner of his lip twitching upwards in a somewhat dubious but resigned smile. “If you say so…”
When Rui turned to give a response, his gaze caught on a couple of crumbs near the corner of Tsukasa’s mouth. Without thinking, he reached out.
The realization of what he was doing only hit him as his thumb delicately brushed over the area, briefly ghosting over the edge of Tsukasa’s bottom lip. Whatever he’d wanted to say now eluded him.
They’d both stopped walking. It was harder to see in the growing darkness, but the same blush as earlier had taken over the tips of Tsukasa’s ears, along with his cheeks this time, too. Rui’s hand remained raised to his face, his index finger resting gently below Tsukasa’s chin, until Tsukasa murmured his name; the pitch of his voice was raised in a hesitant question.
“Sorry. There was a crumb,” Rui explained, though didn’t let go until a few seconds later.
And in the time that he let the touch linger, a thought occurred to him.
“Romance,” he mumbled, mostly to himself, just as Tsukasa began to say, “Oh, thanks–”
“–What?” Tsukasa tilted his head.
Lifting the hand that still held the script, Rui’s mind raced. “I think… that’s what I felt was missing.”
☾₊ ⊹
“Is there something you want to tell me? Specifically, about Tsukasa?”
Rui looked to his side to see Nene taking a seat in the front row next to him. She’d just finished one of her scenes, and neither of them would make an appearance on the stage for a short while. “What do you mean?”
His words were nonchalant, and before long, his gaze was turned back to where Tsukasa and Emu were busy rehearsing on the stage. Their practice today was going as smoothly as he could hope for, considering the script changes–which had been accepted without much fuss. He wasn’t sure whether he’d expected more hesitance from his fellow troupe members. At the very least, he’d anticipated some uncertainty on Tsukasa’s part, since his role would be the most affected alongside Rui’s own.
“Do I really have to spell it out?” Nene rolled her eyes. “You start acting all dazed whenever Tsukasa is around, and then you suddenly change the script overnight to include a romance plot between you and Tsukasa.”
“A romance plot between our characters,” Rui corrected. “We already talked about this. It makes the finale more impactful and the story more coherent; our aim to begin with was to illustrate the unbreakable bond between the moon and the stars, after all. Not to mention–”
“ Rui .” There was a peculiar tone in Nene’s voice. He stopped, looked at her again despite his aversion to getting distracted in the middle of a rehearsal.
It certainly didn’t seem as if she’d believed any of the reasoning he’d given, which was a bit unjustified; he hadn’t been entirely lying. A romantic plot was much more fitting for the play.
But then again, the script had been written with himself and Tsukasa in mind, so the unintended emergence of a romance might have said something about Rui anyway. There was no winning this situation, was there?
“Well, if there was something on my mind, it seems as though you already know what it would be.”
Nene sighed. “You’re not particularly good at hiding it.”
Rui huffed out a small laugh. “Can’t let a guy live in any semblance of denial, huh?”
There was something close to sympathy in Nene’s expression–or maybe it was pity. Both seemed fitting enough. Idly pinching the bridge of his nose, Rui closed his eyes; the image of Tsukasa’s face in his hand flashed in the darkness.
“What am I meant to do…?” he mumbled.
“I’d guess a normal person in your position would confess, but you’re you, so,” Nene shrugged, “I’m assuming you’re going to be anything but straightforward about this.”
Rui let his hand fall to his side again, opening his eyes to continue watching the rehearsal. The overcast sky warned of rain later in the afternoon.
“That’s a bit unfair,” Rui chuckled. “I think a considerable number of people in my position wouldn’t find it so easy to confess. I mean, would you? Even at the risk of rejection?”
Truthfully, it wasn’t even the rejection that he really feared. The idea of losing Tsukasa entirely in the aftermath was far more terrifying.
“Honestly?” Nene leaned forward, resting her chin on her hand. “In your case, I’d be surprised if he didn’t feel the same way.”
Rui didn’t get a chance to respond before Tsukasa and Emu’s scene reached its end.
☾₊ ⊹
Raindrops fell against the window in rhythmic taps. The only things keeping Rui’s room from falling into total darkness were the light seeping through the slivers of space surrounding his closed door and distant lamps and alighted windows outside.
The rehearsal had ended a bit earlier than usual because of the rain, and while Rui would usually use the extra time at home to build props or work through some scenes alone or something to help with preparations, he was instead laying atop his bed and staring at his ceiling. He wasn’t tired, though he almost wished he was. At least then, he wouldn’t have to deal with any of this until the next morning.
I’d be surprised if he didn’t feel the same way .
The words reverberated in his mind like an echo in a cavern. Persistent. Faded and unreliable.
When it came to any matter besides this, Rui would trust Nene with his life.
When it came to this, he wanted to trust her still; but it was already hard to imagine anyone could accept all he was. It was harder yet to imagine anyone could continue accepting all he was, indefinitely. It was downright impossible to imagine anyone would want a lifetime of that–of him.
He supposed Tsukasa already ticked that first box, but even when it came to the second, he faltered. This wouldn’t go on forever. At some point, perhaps much further down the line but nonetheless inevitable, Tsukasa (and the others, too) wouldn’t need him anymore, and he would be left alone again in a world to which he didn’t belong. Maybe by that point, Rui would have brought his long-anticipated dreams to life, but it was far too late to deny how much of his happiness relied on those around him. Would anything less ever be enough?
It was a foolish, foolish thing to entertain the thought of staying in this refuge he’d found in someone so bright, someone who deserved more than what Rui could ever offer.
What a shame that he’d always been little more than a fool.
Absently, he sat up and reached for the phone he’d left on his nightstand. The screen was harsh against the blue-tinted shadows obscuring the rest of the room, though it was nothing compared to the flash that engulfed his figure as he tapped the play button on a particular song.
Even after all this time, the transition to and from the Sekai was still a little disorienting. Rui took a second to regain his footing as the world around him warped, the furniture of his room replaced by the now-familiar landscape of a delightfully bizarre theme park. The usual flying trains and floating carousels and other outlandish attractions only shone brighter in the deep navy sky.
Not long after he came to his senses, a synthetic voice came from behind him. “It’s good to see you again, Rui.”
“Kaito,” Rui greeted, turning towards the source of the sound. “How have you and the others been?”
“We’ve been doing well. In fact, we’re nearly finished with preparing a new production. You and your friends should drop by to watch it once it’s done.”
“Hardworking as always, hm?” Rui chuckled. “We’d be happy to see it.”
Kaito smiled warmly. “I owe it to my troupe members to always put all I have into our shows. They do too, after all.” He tilted his head. “And you? You’re not usually here this late.”
“Ah, I… have something on my mind. I thought being here a while might help sort it out.”
“I see.” Kaito regarded him for a moment. “Would you like to talk about it?”
Somewhere, the sound of laughter could be heard. Rui shook his head, lips curved in a small smile. “I’d hate to take up your time with something so trivial.”
“Would you be here if it was trivial?” Kaito challenged gently. “Come on, let's go for a walk, and you can tell me what's troubling you.”
“Really, it isn't important,” Rui tried to protest as Kaito guided him along a trail leading away from the main stage with a hand on his shoulder. “I wouldn't want to keep you away from the others–”
“We’ve already finished rehearsing for the night, so there’s no hurry. They would understand the circumstances, anyway,” Kaito chuckled. “Now then, what’s on your mind?”
A strained sigh escaped Rui as he resigned to his fate, taking one step after another along the colorful path. There was a slight breeze here, too, but the weather was nonetheless much more pleasant compared to the rain likely still falling in the real world.
Well, ‘real’ wasn’t the best word. It would be amiss to imply that this world wasn’t equally real. The ground beneath his feet was solid, the scattered lights vivid, the chill air carrying distant music and the faint scents of typical carnival snacks–though the mechanics of that were still lost on Rui, seeing as he hadn’t come across any food stands nearby. He stared out at the slowly changing landscape as they walked.
“To tell you the truth, this is a bit embarrassing to say aloud,” he laughed, an uncharacteristic sheepishness seeping into his demeanor.
“Whatever it is, I won’t judge,” Kaito assured. “You know that, don’t you?”
“I do, I do,” Rui conceded, tucking his hands into the pockets of his jacket. “I suppose it’ll be better to just come out and say it than to dance around the bush, then.”
He took a breath. Then another. Finally, turning his gaze to the clouds above, brightly colored even in the dark of the night, he uttered, “I think I have a crush on Tsukasa.”
Kaito smiled softly, knowingly. “Is that right?”
“Well, I–” Rui stammered, resisting the urge to wince. This really was embarrassing. “Calling it a crush is putting it lightly. I just… I care about him, and I’m beyond grateful to him. It’s as if something clicked into place since we started making shows together.” Within the confines of his pockets, he clenched his fists. “He’s radiant. All I want is to be closer to him, to chase after his dreams with him.”
His skin burned at the sincerity in his own words, but there was a slight relief to letting them float into the air, mingling with the music in this dreamlike yet earthly world from which his confession wouldn’t escape–at once heard and unheard.
Kaito hummed. “May I be blunt with you, Rui?”
That wasn’t exactly the response Rui had expected. He nodded, “Of course.”
“I can’t say I’m completely surprised,” Kaito began, “You’ve always seemed rather fond of Tsukasa.”
“Ha, guilty as charged.”
“Although,” Kaito added, “you’ve never been quite so upfront about it. Has something changed?”
They passed a curious scene of a group of plushies setting off fireworks a distance away from the path they traversed, sparks of light streaming through the air and casting a multi-colored glow on the landscape beneath. Some formed patterns–swirls and hearts and stars painted across the skies.
“You could say that,” Rui shrugged. His words were interrupted by the occasional fizzing and popping of the fireworks. “The tipping point was one of our rehearsals, I think. In one scene, Tsukasa’s character is willing to give up his immortality to stay with mine, and I… I found that I wished his words had been spoken to me, instead.”
“Were you the one who wrote that scene?”
Rui chuckled. “Digging a little close to home, there, Kaito.”
Kaito sent him an apologetic glance. “Sorry, I don’t mean to overstep. I was just curious.”
“It’s fine. You’re right, anyway; I did write it.” He laughed again, bowing his head. “It’s not a particularly flattering fact, is it? At this point, I’m not sure how long this… ordeal has been going on without my awareness of it. Makes it all the more ridiculous.”
Kaito shook his head. “Emotions have a tendency to escape the conscious mind; it happens to the best of us. The question now is what you’re going to do with those emotions.”
“That’s the problem, I don’t know,” Rui murmured. “I don’t know if it’s worth telling him. I could lose everything–I could lose him.”
Beside him, Kaito stopped in his tracks. Rui followed suit, raising a brow in question.
“Could you?” he countered, walking a little ways off to take a seat on a small bench, its ornate armrests lined with vibrant blue and purple lights. Rui joined Kaito on the bench when he patted the spot beside him. They weren’t far from the towering Ferris wheel now, its iridescent glow arching high above them.
“What?”
“Could you really lose him?” Kaito continued, his voice earnest. “Even if your feelings aren't reciprocated, do you truly believe you two would no longer be friends for it?”
There was no answer.
“I’d wager your bond is stronger than that.” Kaito leaned forward, propping his elbows on his legs. “After all, we’ve both witnessed Tsukasa’s loyalty. If nothing else, he values you as a friend, most likely too much to let you go over something like this.”
Rui took a long breath of the crisp air. “I can’t be sure about that.” Not when others have left for less , he wanted to add. He didn’t get the chance to.
Though they’d been walking for a while, the winding trail hadn’t ultimately taken them too far from the main area, and the flash of someone entering the Sekai immediately caught their attention. Rui turned and squinted in an attempt to discern the silhouette in the distance. Considering their other troupe members had quite drastically different statures, it wasn’t difficult to conclude that the visitor was none other than the topic of their conversation.
“Have some faith in him.” Rui turned back to look at Kaito as he spoke. “Trust that Tsukasa cares about you enough to stay, regardless of what happens. And try not to wait too long.”
With that, Kaito stood up.
“Where are you going?” Rui asked.
“Back to Miku and the others. In the meantime, you might want to consider what you’ll say.” He nodded to the figure beginning to traverse the same path along which the two of them had walked, before smiling down at Rui. “Even if it’s not tonight, you should tell him eventually. I’m sure that the risk will be worth the reward of no longer having to keep all this to yourself.”
☾₊ ⊹
In the time between when Kaito had left him on the bench and when Tsukasa had made it over, Rui didn’t know what to do with himself. He wasn’t certain whether Tsukasa had noticed him yet, and he was even less certain that he wanted to be noticed to begin with, sinking into the back of the bench and sitting as still as possible. The idea of just pulling out his phone and taking his leave from the Sekai occurred to him more than a few times. In the end, though, he stayed long enough to hear the slow footsteps approaching him.
“Rui?” Tsukasa called, finally noticing the presence of the other when he was several steps away from the bench. Rui braced himself before shooting the newcomer a smile.
“Fancy running into you here, Tsukasa.”
Tsukasa returned the smile, and with the warmth that unfurled in his chest at the simple act, it struck Rui that Kaito had a point. For how much longer could he really keep this up?
“Yeah,” Tsukasa chuckled. There was a second of hesitation, nearly escaping Rui’s notice, before he sat down beside him. “What are you doing here?”
“Just looking around, getting some fresh air. I haven’t explored this place nearly as much as I’d like to,” Rui hummed. He liked to think that he wasn’t generally a dishonest person, though the white lie came easily this time around. “What about you?”
“Oh, I guess I just like being here. Helps take my mind off of things.” Tsukasa cleared his throat, his characteristic grin spreading over his features. “After all, a future star like myself has to stay laser-focused on his work with no distractions!”
A particular note in Tsukasa’s tone caught Rui’s attention. Was it just him, or did those words sound… strained? Suddenly, his own conflicts were forgotten as he tried to hone in on the sliver of–whatever it was that had momentarily fallen past Tsukasa’s demeanor.
Come to think of it, hadn’t there been a few things off with his behavior as of late? The insistence on extra practice, the offhand remarks about burdening the group, it was the sort of thing Rui should’ve taken note of earlier, if only he hadn’t been so caught up with his own nonsense.
“Anyway, if you want to see more of the Sekai, you should ride the Ferris wheel,” Tsukasa went on, nodding towards the nearby attraction. “You can see everything from the top of it. It’s amazing.”
“In that case, would you like to go together?” Rui offered. In the likely event that there was something bothering Tsukasa, Rui doubted he would immediately come clean if asked–not if he’d chosen not to mention it thus far. He knew the boy well enough to know that he’d have to be delicate with his approach.
In that sense, Tsukasa was concerningly reminiscent of Rui himself.
Tsukasa blinked. “Huh? Right now?”
With a nod, Rui stood up and held a hand out. “Why not? I’d assume neither of us have anywhere to be at this hour.”
A small laugh escaped Tsukasa’s lips, the soft sound almost melodic, as he took hold of Rui’s outstretched hand. “Okay, okay.”
Rui had to remind himself that his newfound concern for Tsukasa was more important than the fluttering in his stomach that blossomed in the moments their hands were joined; more important than how enchanting Tsukasa was as reds and greens and violets from the fireworks danced across his face; more important than the glisten of his eyes, warm and bright against the cold night.
Letting go of the hand in his several instants too late, Rui began walking towards the base of the Ferris wheel, its looming height only seeming to grow with each step he took.
“Do you come here often, then?” Rui ventured, speaking no louder than necessary. He was reminded of the previous evening when Tsukasa had walked him home; though tonight, the atmosphere felt, in a way, more fragile.
“Yeah. It’s… peaceful here.” A loud bout of distant laughter contradicted Tsukasa’s words rather comedically. “Okay, maybe peaceful isn't the right word,” he chuckled at Rui’s raised brow. “But it just feels like I don’t have to think about anything else while I’m here, the same way I can forget everything else while watching a good show, you know?”
Rui hummed, mentally noted the words. Would Tsukasa prefer to forget about what was plaguing him entirely? That posed a bit of a problem for Rui if he was going to try to search for information that the other would rather keep out of reach from the both of them.
Why did it have to be so difficult to reach the one person whom he wanted nothing more than to help right now?
“I take it that first show you saw with Saki must have left quite the impact,” Rui mused, “if it had led to the creation of this entire world.”
“Sometimes I forget I’d told you guys about that.” Tsukasa smiled. “You don’t know the half of it. I still remember how utterly enraptured the entire audience was like it was yesterday–and that’s what I’ll be able to accomplish too, someday!” The volume of his voice was raised slightly for the last bit, before he laughed and shook his head. “But even more than that, I remember the smile on Saki’s face that day.”
It couldn’t be helped that Rui’s expression softened, that affection bled into his voice when he spoke his next words. It couldn’t be helped that his heart flooded with more fondness than it could handle when Tsukasa’s true selflessness revealed itself through the seams of his bravado–a delicate, fleeting phenomenon, but one which was easy for a trained eye to notice.
“You’ve given her countless smiles like that yourself, I’m sure, and you’ll give the same gift to countless others.” At the very least, I know you’ve given one person more smiles than he could have imagined asking for .
Tsukasa glanced up at him, a dazed sort of look in his eyes. Just as they reached the base of the Ferris wheel, he spoke.
“That’s strange.”
“Hm?” Rui tilted his head.
“It’s strange,” Tsukasa repeated, “that even though I say those kinds of things all the time, it feels different when it comes from you.”
Rui dared to prod. “In a good way, I hope?”
Wholly unprepared, the answer caused a short circuit in his brain.
“Of course it’s in a good way,” Tsukasa huffed, as if that shouldn’t have ever been in question. His voice grew softer. “I guess, to put it simply–when it comes from you, I can’t help but feel like it’ll really happen.”
Oblivious as ever to the way his words sent Rui reeling, Tsukasa stepped onto the boarding platform and moved towards the capsule nearest to them. Once they were both seated inside, opposite one another, Rui kept his eyes trained on their surroundings. It was mostly just to allow composure to replace the pounding of his heart at first, but when the doors closed and the capsule began its ascent, his attention became naturally drawn to the view.
As the glimmering lights below them grew smaller, the airborne structures of the Sekai could be seen in more detail. The train whisking past them on a set of translucent blue rails, the odd ornaments embedded in the cartoonish clouds comprising its steam, the intricately painted horses and vibrant ribbons of the glowing carousel, a couple of vacant hot air balloons idly wandering about the dark sky. The ground itself became a sea of colors, a luminous coral reef teeming with life.
Not unlike the effect of the boy sitting across from him, it was impossible to resist a swell of wonder at the transformation of this incredible world.
“Told you the view was phenomenal.”
Rui’s gaze flicked back at the sound of Tsukasa’s voice.
“Yes, phenomenal,” he breathed. He couldn’t tell whether he was referring to the stage or the one who had built it.
Tsukasa had his arm propped up against the railing, chin in palm. “Oh, look how small that stage looks from up here. It almost reminds me of ours,” he laughed.
Rui hummed. “Nothing wrong with a star of humble beginnings.”
“Of course! I’ll reach stardom no matter the starting point,” Tsukasa turned to him then, the smile on his lips adopting a hint of wistfulness. “Though to be honest, when that happens, I’ll miss the Wonder Stage.”
“Coming from the one who only began performing on it because he was intimidated by a park mascot?” Rui chuckled. “How fascinating.”
“If Emu tells one more person that story…” Tsukasa grumbled with a lightly exasperated shake of his head, before his features shifted back into that bittersweet expression. “Anyway, it’s just that–we’ve made so many memories there, you know? It’ll always be special to me for allowing me to meet you all in the first place.”
“Then I’d say that won’t be a concern for a while yet. There are plenty more memories to be made.” A cluster of balloons climbed into the skies not too far from them, and Rui allowed the spectacle to draw in his gaze. Perhaps if their eye contact was broken, Tsukasa wouldn’t notice the touch of sincerity in the question on the tip of his tongue.
“That is, I would think you aren’t planning on leaving us so soon?”
The response was immediate. “Of course not! Don’t even think about things like that.”
Oh?
“As long as I have anything to say about it, I’ll always be at your side.”
When Rui looked back, he was taken by surprise by Tsukasa’s sudden proximity, who had leaned forward in his seat. Resolve glistened in his eyes and voice alike.
And it struck Rui that, even when they came from Tsukasa, he couldn’t bring himself to take the words to heart.
No, no, this wasn’t about himself right now. The pang of discomfort could be dealt with later, if at all. It wasn't like situations like this were new to–
“Rui? Are you alright?”
“I’m fine,” came the automatic answer, accompanied with a halfhearted smile by second nature. An ever-reliable routine–a cursory reassurance to avoid suspicion, then a more elaborate excuse. “Only caught off guard by such bold words.” In a lightly teasing tone, he added, “Actually, come to think of it, you’ve been quite sentimental lately.”
Tsukasa opened his mouth, presumably to retort that the observation was nonsense, though hesitated. Finally, slumping back in his seat, he huffed, “Is it so wrong to show my appreciation once in a while?”
“Certainly not,” Rui was quick to respond. Good, the spotlight was off of him now, and he might have an opening into understanding what was on Tsukasa’s mind. “It’s kind of you, don’t get me wrong. This just isn’t something I’ve seen from you often.” With a careful tone, he asked, “Has something changed?”
“Changed? No, I wouldn’t say so.”
Their capsule was nearing the top of the arc, swaying ever so slightly with the strength of the wind at the near-dizzying height. Tsukasa crossed his arms and grinned. “I’m just grateful for all of this, and for all of you. Nothing more to it.”
Strained, just like before. Rui couldn’t give in now.
“This wouldn’t have anything to do with your insistence on extra practice yesterday, would it?”
A subtle tightness was cast over Tsukasa’s expression, over the smile that his features still held. The slightest hint of a crack in the ice over which Rui was stepping. “What do you mean?”
“You’ve been pushing yourself. During our regular rehearsals, too.” Rui took a slow breath, made sure his voice was gentle. “Did you think I couldn’t tell?”
“… Well, that’s what a star does, isn’t it?” Tsukasa shrugged. “I already told you I’d be giving it my all.”
The pause before the answer didn’t go unnoticed. Rui kept his demeanor steady.
“Why did you come here tonight?”
In a fleeting instant, a sort of tension crossed Tsukasa’s eyes, before he shook his head and laughed. “What’s with all the questions, Rui?”
Rui held his gaze for a moment longer before sighing. Even his obstinate nature could recognize when to resign. “Apologies if I’ve overstepped,” he hummed. “I was concerned that you’ve been overworking yourself, is all.”
“Ah,” Tsukasa chuckled. “I appreciate it, but there’s no need to worry about me, really. I’m just doing what I should be doing for the troupe.”
Rui said nothing, only regarding the other as they finally reached the peak of the Ferris wheel. Neither was paying any mind to the scenery.
“Okay,” he spoke at last. “Just know that you’re already doing more than enough, alright?” A pause, then he added, “And your absence in those couple of weeks when you were looking after Saki isn’t something you need to make up for. There’s never anything wrong with having other priorities.”
Though he hadn’t been meaning to–not in this way, at least–it was clear that the words struck a chord. Tsukasa only hummed in response, looking away from Rui.
Their descent was quiet.