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Before he joined Yumenosaki, Midori knew almost nothing about meteors.
He discovered celestial bodies pass over his head every day, although he never notices them. They cross the sky, millions of shooting stars approaching the earth every day, leaving behind a tiny, ephemeral trace — and this trace is called a meteor. He had always thought that it was the celestial body itself, but no: it's nothing more or less than a trail of light, without consistency, but more visible than the body whose existence it reveals.
Knowing the scientific truth behind the term can't help him understand what it means to be Ryusei Green. Or why Morisawa-senpai thought he would make a good partner. Midori isn't a hero, he's just a normal guy who accidentally picked the wrong course. He doesn't have what it takes to become one of the lights shining in the dark at night.
Morisawa-senpai himself is not a meteor. His presence is not ephemeral, even less silent. He is more like a big bang, a sudden explosion that reorganizes the world around him.
And Midori hates the fact that Morisawa Chiaki has imposed himself in his life with such ease. Hates how he sees him every day, as if he were one of the celestial bodies crossing his sky so often he can't ignore it anymore. He forced Midori to look up, to observe the stars and to wish to become one of them.
There are so, so many things Midori hates about Morisawa-senpai.
- he never leaves him alone
Morisawa-senpai wakes him up every morning.
Every morning is perhaps an exaggeration since Morisawa usually leaves him alone on weekends. And to say that it's him who wakes Midori up is not quite true. Sometimes it's because of the usual noises of the house, too loud for him to stay asleep: a falling cardboard box (always followed by a series of shouts, because dropping a box might damage the merchandise), his brother and one of his parents discussing just in front of his door as if he weren't here, or simply an unfortunate sunbeam when he forgot to properly close his curtains the evening before. Sometimes it's just his alarm clock. There are many other reasons why Midori can't sleep in peace in the morning, and it tires him so much, he doesn't understand where he finds the energy to go to school and practices.
It doesn't really matter whether Morisawa-senpai himself wakes him up or not; as soon as he sets foot in the store, greets the Takamine family with his usual energy, and then climbs up the stairs to reach his room, Midori knows he'll be caught up in the whirlwind of his whims. There's no point in fighting against him.
Every day of the week Morisawa-senpai's here, waiting for Midori to be ready to walk to school with him.
(And, maybe because he's too tired to think straight, Midori is somehow grateful.)
- he's too loud
Midori's ears are always buzzing at the end of the practice. They're not exactly sore, but he feels like he's used them too much and it's time for him to return to the comfortable silence of his room. The noise tires him, anyway. The music is a tad too loud and his unitmates love to talk all at once and as much as he likes being with them, he's just spent.
He gathers his things in silence. He's all too aware of the other signals his body sends to express his discomfort: the way his hair sticks to his forehead from sweat, or the wetness of his hands, or the slight pang of pain coming from his arms and legs. It feels like someone has put a heavy coat on his shoulders and it weighs him down so much his gestures are slowing down. This is another reason why Midori doesn't like to make efforts, or at least the physical kind of effort expected from an idol. His whole body loves to remind him that he's rusty, that he's lost the energy he once had as a child.
"Takamine!" Morisawa-senpai yells into his ear.
There he is: standing right next to Midori, as he knows the younger will ignore him if he doesn't get in his line of sight. And of course, his voice is too loud, especially for Midori's buzzing ears. It doesn't matter how close they are: Morisawa-senpai acts like he doesn't know how to speak at a normal volume.
(Midori knows, however, that he can lower if he wants. At times, Morisawa-senpai whispers, because some of the words he lets out are not meant to be heard by anyone but Midori, and the thought of these words makes his heart rate increase.)
"Good work, Takamine! You look tired, shall I walk you home?"
Midori brings his hand to his ear. His senpai is still too loud, and he doesn't seem to understand how much it bothers Midori. "No, thank you, senpai. I can go home alone, you know? I don't need you."
This isn't the kind of thing you tell someone from your unit — but Midori's never been a nice guy, he keeps rejecting Morisawa-senpai, and Morisawa-senpai somehow never resents him for that. Instead, he just tries again, harder.
Morisawa-senpai bursts out laughing, one of his usual waves of laughter that aren't exactly sincere. He's not that amused, but Midori guesses laughing something off makes it less scary. Still, the laugh feels like a firework exploding near his ear — it's really unpleasant. "Come on, don't be shy, Takamine, it'd be my pleasure! I promise you, you're not bothering me!"
Of course he's not bothered by Midori. That much, Midori knows.
And, despite everything, Midori ends up going home with Morisawa-senpai. His eardrums and limbs aren't the only uncomfortable sensations he has to deal with as he listens to Morisawa-senpai talk about his plans for the weekend (plans including Midori, for some reason). There's also a ball of irritation lodged deep into his chest, and something warm, too, so warm it burns him from the inside.
- his body is too hot (and he loves hugs)
Midori loves and hates the moment of the year when the summer heat starts to shoo the rains away.
When it rains, Midori's parents more or less leave him alone: as long as he helps out with the store, he's free to go back to his room for the rest of the time. He wraps himself in his blanket, clutching the handmade Carrotian plushie Kiryu-senpai gave him against his chest, sometimes does his homework, other times tries to watch one of the hero shows Morisawa-senpai told them to watch (for Midori promised he would watch it on his own, no need for Morisawa-senpai to cling to him, so the least he can do is to keep his promise) (besides Morisawa-senpai will ask him tons of annoying questions because he's soooo excited to share one of his favourite shows with his kouhai, so he has to get prepared).
(And maybe, deep down, a part of him enjoys watching these shows, even if he can't help but see Morisawa-senpai in place of the actor playing Red, can't help but wish he could see himself in Green, too.)
With the summer break comes a stifling heat and Midori rarely has the opportunity to take refuge in his room. Normal people consider the weather to be absolutely normal, but Midori suffocates and has no choice but to spend as much time in the store as he can, so that his parents won't tell him to go out and brave the hellish sun. He quite likes the temperature anyway, the aircon and the misting keeping the vegetables fresh allowing him to breathe properly. Sure, the efforts he has to make tire him, but compared to his usual unit activities, it's not that bad.
And he doesn't know why Morisawa-senpai came to help today when he most certainly has other things to do. Maybe bothering Midori has become his second nature and that's how he likes to waste his time. He's efficient, though, almost as familiar with the store as Midori is.
He also doesn't know why Morisawa-senpai drags him out of the store when the morning is over — with the blessing of Midori's parents who, somehow, are delighted to see him leave with a friend. ( He's not a friend , Midori wants to say. They know he's the leader of his idol unit but they don't understand what it means. And as for the feelings Midori holds for him—)
Morisawa-senpai's palm is fervid against his, as if he spent his whole morning basking in the sun. His grip is hard but Midori could get away if he wants to. Yet he feels trapped, forced to follow him through the warm streets, exposing his arms and nape to the assaults of the sun.
"Where are we going, Morisawa-senpai?" His voice is weary, low. He wants to go back to bed.
For a moment, there's a loud silence — Morisawa-senpai ignoring him isn't something he's used to, and he wonders if he's supposed to repeat his question or not.
Then Morisawa-senpai answers: "We're eating out! My treat, Takamine!"
"Shouldn't I treat you?" Midori doesn't protest , to his own surprise. His treacherous mouth didn't let him. "You're the one who helped us out this morning."
It's a simple statement; if he was given the choice, Midori would rather not have lunch with Morisawa-senpai at all. But he helped him, so it's natural Midori gives him something in return, even if it costs him. He dislikes rewarding Morisawa-senpai for everything he does for Midori's sake — he knows the extent of his debt, knows there's no way he can fully repay him no matter how hard he tries, even with something as basic as a lunch date.
Morisawa-senpai has a glint in his eye when he hears Midori's suggestion. "Oh, that's so nice of you, Takamine, but I assure you, I don't need any retribution! To help a friend is a hero's duty!"
Midori bites his lip. We're not friends , he repeats in his mind.
However, without Morisawa-senpai, his parents would never have let him take the afternoon off. It's precisely because everyone thinks they're friends he's allowed to have free time. He should be grateful. He knows that.
Morisawa-senpai might be aware of his inner thoughts. Without a word, he puts his arms around Midori's shoulders. It's far too hot for physical contact, and Midori hates the embrace — it feels like a furnace running wild against his skin. His forehead is covered with sweat, his clothes are starting to stick to his back, and Midori just wants to throw Morisawa-senpai as far away from him as possible, just to be able to breathe a little.
Yet he does nothing of the sort. He just accepts the hug, because a part of him feels relaxed in his arms.
- he has a radiant smile
He falls miserably, gracelessly — his feet get tangled while he dances, which is rather embarrassing considering he's not a beginner anymore and the choreography is familiar now, and maybe he wants to die right now.
Things go fast. His cheeks turn red. The music stops. Morisawa-senpai leans over to him. Why is it always Morisawa-senpai, though, he wonders. (He knows the reply. Even if Morisawa-senpai wore a different colour, it'd be him.)
"Is everything okay, Takamine?!"
His body is fine, for sure. The fall wasn't hurtful. No, the only thing that took a hit was Midori's pride. He doesn't want to be an idol (not really, not even in his wildest dreams) yet it bothers him. He's clumsy, he's exhausted, he has no motivation. And he definitely can't keep up with Morisawa-senpai when he rushes to his side looking all worried.
"Yeah, I like lying on the floor," he says in all sincerity. He could really lie down and take a nap if he were allowed to. He's tired, after all, he's tried so hard today, doesn't he deserve a little break?
"Here." Morisawa-senpai holds out his hand. His face is lit up with an encouraging smile, the kind of smile that makes you want to move on, even if you can't take it anymore. With a smile like that, Midori understands why Morisawa-senpai is so popular. It's a smile that makes you feel loved.
And he wants to be loved by him, the desire beating in the hollow of his heart like a parallel rhythm, abnormal, derailing the machine to the point that he doesn't know where he stands anymore.
It is only because his thoughts are in disorder that he accepts the hand extended to him to get up. And it seems to him (but it is perhaps due to a reflection of the sun) that the smile of Morisawa-senpai widens even more when Midori takes his hand.
- he always tries to make them (him) happy
Morisawa-senpai is the one who offers to go to the festival that night.
He's always the one inviting the others, as he's always the first one about opportunities to go out before anyone else has the time to consider the idea. And Midori wants to say no: he'd rather go to bed at a reasonable hour. Besides, does he really want to spend even more time with him after the sun sets? Definitely not. However, it is a Ryuseitai outing, and Shinobu and Tetora both gave him a hopeful look. So he yielded.
At least it's better than that time they were told to work as waiters for a beach restaurant, right?
As summer settles, the days become even hotter, and now it often takes until nightfall for the air to become breathable. Being outside after eight doesn't feel pleasant, although Midori admits the warmth of the streets has nothing to do with the scorching heat filling them during daytime. Seeing Morisawa-senpai waving at him is another unpleasant thing. He's wearing the most ordinary T-shirt he could find in his wardrobe, which, for some obscure reason, disappoints Midori. Not that he did better himself: his clothes are also rather bland. Well, Tetora did tell him once he looks good in pretty much anything.
And once they're gathered, all five of them — the presence of the other three bringing him a form of comfort he never expected to feel — Morisawa-senpai shouts, "Let's go!" and they find their way through the booths.
The night is looming when Morisawa-senpai grabs him by the hand and brings him to the shooting booth. "That's one of your mascot characters, right?" he asks while pointing at one of the stuffed animals aligned in front of them, and Midori nods. The fact that Morisawa-senpai remembers one of his things (when he's the one who was dragged into his universe full of heroes and kaiju) feels weird. Abnormal. Yet so rewarding.
Midori wonders when Morisawa-senpai learnt what cards he must use in order to win over his younger member.
Morisawa-senpai tries, fails, and tries again. He's neither good nor bad, but a plushie is a rather big object and even if the bullet hits it, the impact is still too small for the plush toy to fall. Midori almost wants to tell him it's okay, he doesn't need it, he has plenty of them at home. He knows it'd be a lie, though, and that thought alone seals his tongue.
Finally, the plushie falls down, and Morisawa-senpai hands him his prize with the biggest smile. "For you, Green!"
Midori takes it.
It feels like a meteor shower: thousands of lights crossing the map of his mind all at once.
- (and he never leaves him alone)
He runs—
or at least he tries to run, making his way through the crowd, babbling quick excuses when he bumps into someone.
He wonders why it's easier for him to run, even though he's out of breath and could have stayed with his classmates. His chest burns; it must have been the stabbing pain that made him leap to his feet and run away with more gusto than when he was chasing a basketball. Midori had no illusions: that fire in his lungs was started by Morisawa-senpai and his flaws, the loudness of his voice, the radiance of his smile. And the flickering flame turned into an inferno, ravaging everything in its path, leaving behind only the ashes of his self-esteem.
He has almost reached the beginning of the festival, and the sight of this space without booths makes him stop for a moment. He could go home, right now. His parents would certainly ask him why he is back so early, and he could pretend to have a headache. But he knows, deep down, that they wouldn't believe him, because Morisawa-senpai would never let him go home alone if he did.
Midori sighs. I want to die , the words rush to his lips but he refrains from pronouncing them. In silence, he slips behind one of the booths, sits down on the grass itself, in the shade of a tree which, in the middle of the day, must offer a pleasant shelter against the coolness. But the night fell already, the air is fresh and charged with moisture, and the high branches form only a nest of darkness in which Midori curls up with a shiver.
Legs folded up, head against its knees, plushie against his chest, Midori listens to the rumours of the festival which half covers the song of the last cicadas. The music, the laughter of the teenagers, the tears of a child that his parents can't calm, the drumming of the steps against the ground, the rustling of the fridges; all these sounds are at the same time familiar and foreign, as if Midori had once belonged to this world but lost his place there. Before joining Ryuseitai, though, he had never had the opportunity to visit a festival with friends.
But the sounds lull him into a state close to sleep that a valiant Takamine! breaks.
The fire's rekindled in his chest when he raises his head and sees Morisawa Chiaki standing in front of him, alone, his amber eyes fixed on him as if he was the only one in the world.
"Go away," the injunction escapes his lips before he can control it. Stay by my side , a voice in his head screams, a voice that came along with the furnace and that he has never been able to silence. His fingers tighten around his knees. He doesn't want Morisawa-senpai to know, but he wants him to know. He wants far too much and he doesn't know what to do with this heart that suddenly has cravings he can't control.
Morisawa-senpai never listened to him when Midori sincerely wanted him to leave. He doesn't listen to him this time either. "I finally found you!" he said, his eyes shining with excitement. "Why did you leave? You know, if something is wrong, you can tell me anything! We are comrades, after all!"
And maybe that's the problem, Midori mused. "Ugh, I was hoping to finally be able to be quiet... impossible with this senpai who can't keep his mouth shut..."
"Ha ha ha, sorry! I have so much to say when I see you, Takamine, I want to talk! But if it really bothers you, I'll make an effort!"
"You're still talking, senpai."
Despite himself, Midori allows himself a smile.
A noise tears the air and an explosion of colour crowns Morisawa-senpai's head. From where Midori sat, a little high above the booths, he can only see a band of sky, just behind his senpai's hair, and it was at this very spot that the first fire opened. It leaves behind a line of light, something that reminds him of meteors.
Morisawa-senpai turns around to admire the corollas of colours. "The fireworks have started!"
Then, without asking anything, he settles down next to Midori. The youngest's heartbeat starts to race. For once, Morisawa-senpai is silent; from his mouth only a few admiring, silent breaths come out. As if he felt his gaze, Morisawa-senpai turns his head in his direction. His face, half immersed in the shadow, lights up every time one of the fires explodes. He looks happy.
"I'm sorry, senpai."
"Hm? Why is that, Takamine?"
"Because of me, you can't watch the fireworks with the others."
Morisawa-senpai turns his gaze to the sky. "We are watching the same fireworks, even though we are separated! Besides, I'd rather be with you. If you had been alone, I wouldn't have forgiven myself."
The words get stuck in Midori's throat. The fire has risen from his chest, so powerful that it draws tears from him.
He feels them rolling down his cheeks as he places his hand against Morisawa-senpai's. This latter says nothing, does nothing either to withdraw his hand. The contact, soft but intimate, awakens sparkles in his stomach.
Morisawa-senpai might have something of the meteors after all, from the way he illuminates Midori by small touches, as his cocoon of darkness is torn down bit by bit by the trails of light Morisawa-senpai leaves behind.