Characters: Akira
Summary: He spreads out his hand, and presses it toward that sky, as if grasping. And he grins, also. As if he knows.
Setting: After episode 3
A/N: So after taking the last exit level state test of my life a few months ago, I had about two hours to spare.
An hour and a half of that time was spent typing out an Eden of the East drabble on my LG Touchscreen's texting feature.
It'd be sufficed to say that I learned something from this experience.
One: apparently the LG Touchscreen can take up to five pages before it orders you to start a new message. Sweet.
Two: I am God.
...That's all.
DARLING, WON'T YOU BE MY FALLEN STAR?
After that—after a crotchety old veteran disillusioned by the Man beats him half to death earlier in the evening, and after he neatly folds Saki-chan's nice note into his less than worthy coat pocket—Akira clambers to the rooftop of his abandoned Galleria, to a place tucked far-flung from silver suns and NEET cells.
There is only wind, bitter; and his dog, loyal; and stones, scattered across the flat surface of the roof, to accompany him here. From this, he recounts an episode of Pokemon, and basks, now, beneath the glory and chilling mercy of the stars more alien than his ornamental piece; more alien than the one bathing a faraway hemisphere.
Merely six rule the sky in this urban ghetto. Yet as he lays back against the concrete, muscles screaming from the soured fruit-coloured bruises, Akira squeezes his eyes shut, and opens them wide, only to behold billions of stars burning down against him, melting away what the winter numbs.
He laughs, then, along with his dog. He spreads out his hand, and presses it toward that sky, as if grasping. And he grins, also. As if he knows.
Johnny is in that sky.
END
... Johnnyyyyy.