Chapter Text
The cultural festival had gone better than Rui could have ever dreamed.
He got to do a show this year, with Tsukasa, and the rest of his class. Tsukasa had beaten him to the punch suggesting it, and there wasn’t even a whisper of doubt when he’d immediately placed Rui in the directing role. To his surprise, most of the class seemed… excited about it. Murmurs of last year’s sports festival carried across the room, and a few mentions of the night show at Phoenix Wonderland, too.
The feeling that arose in his chest, he’d recently learned, was the euphoria of acceptance.
It wasn’t even a debate on what sort of show he wanted to do after that.
The costumes and t-shirts were nostalgic in a way he couldn’t describe. The backdrops were incredibly well-made, and though the school forced him to tone down some of his special effects, they truly brought out the spirit of the performance. His actors were dedicated and enthusiastic, especially his star. Rui shouldn’t have been surprised by Tsukasa’s effortless leadership and determination by now, but he somehow still found a way to amaze him.
The curtain closed on the final performance of the day, and as he took his final bow surrounded by friends and allies, he didn’t need a mirror to know the extent of his smile.
Rui wandered around with Tsukasa for the remainder of the festival, trying to see what stall had the best food, or who could make Nene turn the brightest shade of red at her class’s photo booth station (though, he did never actually tell Tsukasa about that little game). Emu had even stopped by for a bit, excited to see what the school had to offer now that she wasn’t going to get kicked out if a teacher saw her.
The day had ended seemingly in the blink of an eye, and Rui was waving goodbye to his friends before he knew it. Nene was going over to Emu’s for a sleepover, and Tsukasa lived on the other side of town. It was just him and his thoughts for company on the walk back home tonight.
He couldn’t help but admire the beauty of the setting sun as he walked back. The colors tonight were especially vibrant- salmon-tinged clouds over an ember sky, fading into a gradient of reddish pinks and midnight purple.
”... Fufu”
They’d laughed, a little, at that. A small exhale, tired and heavy. Mizuki turned to him, smiling but not really, and asked, “Why are you laughing all of a sudden?”
“This reminds me of the old days. We used to stay after school to watch the sun set, right?”
“Ah… well, because we had nothing else to do.”
He looked up at the clouds, aimlessly wandering ahead. “You’re right. Back then, we didn’t know what to do with the time in front of us and just let it pass by.”
Back then, when nothing seemed to matter at all. When each day felt like eternity, yet the months passed in the blink of an eye. Back when all they had to do was wait.
He turned his gaze back to them. They’d stopped looking his way, empty gaze now focused on the stone path of the courtyard. That lost, anxious, demeanor they were now overcome by… he hadn’t seen it this heavy since that lonely rooftop.
“So… what happened, Mizuki?”
They said they were going to do it. To finally lay their soul bare. To stop running away.
When he wished them hope and happiness, he had meant it with every fiber of his being. He knew how much this meant to Mizuki. How absolutely terrifying it is to say this. That fear, that inevitability of change…
He gets it. He really, really does.
It’s only by knowing the depths of loneliness that one can truly understand the highs of companionship.
Mizuki has their circle now. They have friends, allies, companions. He can see it in their eyes, how much they genuinely love them, and are loved by them.
It’s only by knowing the embrace of love that one can truly understand the emptiness of solitude.
To be thrust back into that ocean after finally knowing the light of the surface…
Rui watched as the sun dipped below the rooftops of the distant skyline. All he can do now is hope, for Mizuki’s sake.
Mizuki didn’t show up to school the next day.
He’d stopped by the second year hallway during lunch, curious to hear how it had gone. He wanted to see their smiling face, to see the light in their eyes after finally, finally having the courage to say it.
He wanted to see them.
Their seat was empty.
Logically, he knew that meant nothing. Mizuki doesn’t usually eat in the classroom, anyways, preferring the open air of the courtyard or rooftop. If they even make it to school by lunch, that is.
It’s fine. They’re fine. They knew they’d be accepted. They wouldn’t have stuck around this long otherwise. They wouldn’t have been so happy this last year otherwise.
Mizuki’s fine.
He didn’t notice that his feet had taken him to the rooftop until he was pushing open the metal door, shoving once, twice, three times before it finally swung open.
The rooftop was empty.
He knew it meant nothing. Maybe they decided to take the day off. A reward, for finally having done it. A rest, a respite, a breather. They deserve it, after all.
Maybe they went out to celebrate with their friend, and then logged on to a voice call at 1am, and fell asleep when the sun went up. Maybe it was just a normal night for them.
It’s fine.
Mizukis’ fine.
They have to be.
Mizuki didnt show up for class the next day, either.
Or the next.
Or the next.
He couldn’t help but feel his anxiety grow. What happened to his dear friend? Are they okay?
Every thought process ended up back at them. He couldn’t focus.
It was even starting to affect rehearsal.He’d started running through his lines on autopilot, hoping he was coming in on the right cues. Tsukasa was talking about something or other, and he knows he should be looking for ways to enhance his performance, but all he can do is stare out at the empty audience seats.
Mizuki had looked so happy, sitting in the audience of their show that day.They were surrounded by their friends; the four of them, together. They were smiling, and laughing, and chatting like it was the easiest thing in the world.
He knew every word Mizuki spoke that day was harder to breathe than anything they’d ever done before.
Did they log on to the Nightcord call last night? Was it the same as it always was?
Was it different in ways that can’t be put into words?
Did it even happen?
He hopes they’re okay.
He hopes, he hopes, he hopes.
It’s all he can do.
“Hey, hey, Rui-kun? Is everything okay?” Emu inquired, her little face looking up at him with genuine concern. She must have been calling his name a couple times, because she was a lot closer than he’d remembered her being before. “You’re really pwoooooooaaaa today.”
Rui tried to give her a little smile. “I’m alright, Emu-kun. There’s no need to worry.”
“No, Emu’s right. Something’s up,” Tsukasa shook his head, a disapproving yet fond look on his face. “This is the third time you’ve missed your cue today.”
Nene nodded. “I don’t think I’ve seen you this distracted since… I’m not even sure how long ago.”
Rui tried to laugh it off. Even if he did want to tell them how his heart ached to know if his friend was okay, if they were laughing, happy, safe... he can’t. This isn’t his secret to share. Outing someone, even if they were ready, even if it was an accident, is a fate he wouldn’t wish upon anyone.
He’s glad Mizuki got to say it on their own terms. Even if it’s becoming apparent it didn’t go as well as they’d both hoped.
Still, his troupe was looking at him with such concern. It would be wrong of him to let them worry about something he doesn’t even know for certain.
(How lucky is he to have those three in his life? Who know him better than he knows himself? Who he fought for, tooth and nail, to try and stay together? To run forward with, together, forever and ever and ever?)
(Mizuki has this too, now.)
(Not had. Has. He can’t let himself think of that connection as a sentiment of the past.)
Rui fidgeted with the sleeve of his sweater. “I’m just… concerned about a friend, that’s all. They wanted to take a step forward for their future, but I haven’t heard from them since. I’m afraid something has gone wrong.”
“We should help them then!!!” Emu cried without even a moment’s hesitation. “We could make them something, or send them a video, or-”
“A show, written by yours truly! A spectacular one to motivate them to persevere through whatever ails them!” Tsukasa declared, striking a confident pose.
“Sheesh…” Nene grumbled. “The first mention of someone being sad, and you’re already trying to do all this?” Her tone was mocking, but Rui knew she was already fully on-board to do whatever she could.
How did I ever get so lucky as to be with them? So willing to drop everything and help, no matter what. Still…
“I’m sure they would appreciate the sentiment, but I’m not sure that would be appropriate. This is something they have to do themself.”
It’s why he hasn’t done anything else but wait. This is Mizuki’s secret. It’s delicate, and fragile, and broken fine, it’s fine. They’re fine, so there’s no need to do anything.
If only he could believe that.
Rui plasters on a smile he knows they all can see through. “It’s alright. Let’s continue rehearsal now, shall we?”
It’s been six days since Mizuki last came to school.
Rui’s given up pretending to pay attention in class. He rested his head on folded arms and stared out the window.
It’s been six whole days. Mizuki’s never skipped for this long, not even in middle school.
He shouldn’t be worrying like this. This isn’t his problem to be meddling with.
He and Mizuki had gone their separate ways a long time ago.
They were loners together, for a bit. Companions, maybe, friends, possibly, on a quiet rooftop. They’d listened, and dreamed, and understood one another in a way that surpasses words.
They sat together, alone, waiting, waiting, waiting, for somebody to save them.
They couldn’t save each other. They knew that. They were each too messed up, too hollow, to do anything but listen.
They were saved by someone else. By a star, a clown, and a songstress; by a composer, a lyricist, and an artist. When the alchemist and animator’s stories split, they stopped waiting and started living. How many incredible memories had they both made since then? How many dreams, hopes, fears, had they found?
Rui’s glad, truly. For both of their sakes.
But he can’t… he can’t interfere. He can’t risk messing with the one thing that managed to save them.
But it’s been six days since they seemingly disappeared from the face of the earth.
He can’t save Mizuki. He knows that.
But, maybe he can listen.
Rui digs his phone out of his backpack, not caring that the teacher will absolutely confiscate it once she turns away from the whiteboard. He opens the Nightcord app and clicks on his DMs.
Mizuki’s status is set to offline. He can’t recall the last time that little icon has been anything other than bright green.
11:24 am
how did it go?
He couldn’t think of anything more to say. Anything else he wants to ask…
He’s already interfering this much. He shouldn’t risk it. Rui shut off his phone and let it dangle in his loose grip, waiting for the familiar buzz of a Nightcord reply.
Sometimes it feels as if Mizuki replies to his messages before he even sends them. Today, the absence of vibration felt louder than any notification.
He waits all day for them.
They didn’t reply.
They didn’t reply the next day, either.
Or the next.
It’s been ten days since Mizuki last came to class, and four since he sent them a message with no reply.
Today, Rui hadn’t bothered going into the classroom at all. Instead, he found himself sitting alone on the rooftop instead of in a calculus lecture. He knows he shouldn’t be skipping class. He’d been doing so much better about it recently, but right now he can’t bring himself to care.
Eh. It’s not like he was going to listen if he did show up, anyways.
It’s been ten days. The initial bug of anxiety has multiplied into a swarm of panic. He’s been checking his phone every moment he can, hoping, praying, to see some sort of response.
What happened? He has to know he has to know he has to know.
He has to know they’re okay.
Did they even see the notification?
(No, they would have had to. Mizuki always checks their phone.)
Should he send another text?
(No, if they haven’t replied by now then there has to be a reason.)
Should he find them in person?
(No, he doesn’t know where they live, and he refuses to hack their phone for a location without express permission.)
What should he even do?
(Nothing. There is nothing he can do but wait.)
Rui leaned back against the chilly metal wiring of the rooftop fence. The loops barely even bend with the pressure.
Mizuki had said, once, that they’d wondered what it would be like if there was no fence up here. If they could just take a step out and just… fall. To feel the rush of wind on their back, to feel their bones go splat on the stone of the courtyard below.
They wondered what it would be like if they grew their hair out long enough to feel it brush their face on impact.
They wondered if anyone would care enough to notice.
They wondered what it would be like to stop feeling like this.
Like an impostor.
Like a phase.
Like a monster.
They wondered what it would feel like if they’d just disappeared.
It pains him to admit it now, but he’d… he’d wondered it too.
He hadn’t thought like that in a really long time.
He hopes Mizuki hadn’t, too.
He hopes.
Oh, he hopes- oh he hopes Mizuki didn-
With shaking hands, he pulled out his phone.
It hasn't seen a Nightcord message in weeks.
arw you oka-
i misss yo
what happened
im scar-
are you evrn seeing theae? are yiu even ali
He shook his head as he deleted the messages. Start slow.
1:38 pm
hello mizuki
i hope you’re alright.
1:43 pm
you don’t have to tell me what happened
you don’t have to tell me anything.
just…
tell me you’re still here
tell me you’re at least holding on
if youre lonely agaun
if you evwn think abput it
1:51 pm
i’m here for you. always
He’s not sure how long he stared at the sent messages. Time keeps blurring together, seconds bleeding into hours and minutes crunching into moments. It’s making him dizzy with nausea. He knows nothing is going to change, nothing has, nothing will, he doesn’t know he doesn’t know-
His shaking thumb reaches for the power button. He can’t look at this anymore.
Just before he pressed it, something changed.
A small green dot appeared next to a pink, blue, and white icon in the corner of the screen.
In a blink, it was gone.
But it was there.
Mizuki.
Rui let out a sigh of relief he didn’t know he was holding in.
They’re here, at least.
They won’t talk to him.
They’re not okay.
But they’re here.
Rui knows he can’t save them.
But he can wait, and he can listen.
He can hope.
It’s all he can do.