A/N: I needed fluff after that trailer.
Disclaimer: If I wrote this movie, it would two straight hours of Mirai and Akihito bickering and kissing. I don't own KNK or I'll Be Here. Only a broken heart.
Was it wrong to call him right now?
Mirai didn't know. She didn't know much of anything these days. Months of her memory had been washed away like grains of sand in the tide, and suddenly everything was new again. They had all told her it was like a fresh start. But "new" didn't necessarily mean "good." In fact, new was empty. The little information she had received about the life she had forgotten seemed hallow. Something big was missing, though Mirai didn't know if she would ever be able to recall what that thing was.
What she did know was that her apartment unsettled her. Of course she didn't know why, but something about about it felt wrong, like she was afraid of it. Or, used to be, at least.
Mirai looked down at the cell phone in her lap once more. It was filled with far more contacts than she ever remembered having. She had friends now, she reminded herself. The concept seemed foreign, like that wasn't how it always was. She wanted to ask why, but was afraid the answers she would receive would be more half-truths. While these people were indeed her friends, they seemed pretty good at keeping secrets; Mirai's past being the biggest one.
But then there was one who seemed determined to make her as happy as possible despite her situation. She couldn't remember how she met him or who he was to her before, but now he was the one person she always seemed desperate to call when she needed reminding.
Kanbara's name was highlighted on her cell phone screen.
He was knocking on her door in a matter of minutes, panting.
"Hello," she greeted timidly after she opened the door.
"Are you alright? Is everything okay?"
He was always so worried about her. Mirai desperately wished she remembered why.
"I'm fine, I just-" Just what? How could she properly put into words why she needed him here? She hardly knew this boy. He was another piece in the puzzle of her past that she couldn't find the right space for. He kept just as many secrets from her as the others, and yet he seemed to care so much. She couldn't read him.
And yet he was the one she called when she felt alone.
"The bonsai. I guess it was a hobby I picked up pretty recently," she lied, looking down to avoid his concerned expression. "I don't know how to care for them."
He breathed out a sigh of relief at the small problem. When she looked up he was smiling.
"I can help you."
He didn't know much about bonsai trees, but he tried. What he lacked in knowledge he made up for in anecdotes, and told her about all the times she scolded children outside the clubroom for almost destroying her precious plants with their bouncy balls and frisbees. In all the stories he had told her about the Literary Club, she had never once recalled him telling her that they actually read anything.
Mirai nodded in understanding after he (incorrectly) explained to her how to water her trees, but furrowed her brow when she saw him begin to slip his shoes back on.
"Where are you going?" she asked, not quite understanding the disappointment in her own voice.
"Well, we have class tomorrow, so I should probably let you get some sleep," he told her with a small smile. "I'll see you tomorrow, Kuriyama-san."
His door was on the handle when she stopped him.
"Kanbara-senpai?"
He turned around to face her, a sadness in his eyes that she couldn't place.
"Hm?"
"I-" she looked desperately around for some excuse, for another reason to make him stay, but was greeted with only the empty expanse of her apartment. The unlit corners sent a cold chill up her spine. "I want you to stay." Her voice was quiet, and she felt her face heat up at the words. Requesting a boy to spend the night with her was something the old Mirai would never have done. Now she wasn't even sure of that.
"Stay here? In your apartment? Tonight?" He laughed nervously, and Mirai's resolve wavered. Maybe this wasn't something the old Mirai did. But it was what she wanted now.
She didn't want to admit her own loneliness, or talk about how awful her "fresh start" was. It wasn't pity she was looking for. So instead of explaining herself, she only muttered a tiny "Please."
A hand patted her head. Mirai looked up at him and watched his smile light up his face once more, chasing away the darkness in her heart.
"Sure thing, Kuriyama-san. Anything for you."
He laid beside her on the floor, which should have made her bashful, but instead made her feel safe.
"I'm sorry for the inconvenience," she whispered as they lay together in the dark.
His fingers laced with hers, a movement so natural and comforting that she didn't question it like she should have.
"I'm glad you called."
"I'll repay you somehow," she told him, feeling she needed to reciprocate his kindness. "I-I can make breakfast. I'm a decent cook. Or, was a decent cook."
He shifted slightly, moving closer to her in the process. Mirai's heart sped up slightly, though not in a bad way, she noted.
"You don't have to do that," he said with a small laugh. He paused for a second, and when he continued speaking he sounded almost pensive. "But if you do? Don't make rice omelets. Yours are terrible."
She scowled. "Don't be unpleasant, Senpai. If I make you food you should be grateful."
He stiffened, the fingers entwined with hers squeezing her hand.
"You're right," he amended, letting out a breath. "I am grateful."
Mirai's eyes were beginning to feel heavy. The room felt much warmer now that Kanbara was beside her, the shadows unassuming and mundane. She yawned and pressed her face more firmly in her pillows.
"Thank you staying with me," she murmured tiredly.
"I'll always be here for you, Kuriyama-san," she heard him say, though she found she was too tired to respond.
There were many things Mirai didn't know about herself now. With her past being such a mystery, the future for her always seemed daunting and worrisome. But on the floor of her apartment that night, with her hand clasped tightly by a boy her soul still knew, Mirai decided that the present wasn't so bad.