3. Sight Read

Nothing. Again.

Osamu supposes he shouldn't be surprised. It hadn't worked before. There was no reason for it to work now. Not even because Ken trusted it to. Though he isn't even sure that's a feasible source of power to begin with. Ken has always been the one to believe in those things

"Don't you want to help Ken?" he asks it, frustration making him squint hard enough to hurt his eyes. The little pale device just sits there in his palm, unmoving. Osamu scowls, and only the thought of that drawer and what trouble it's already caused keeps him from slamming it in there and locking it there for good. He puts it on the desk instead, disgruntled.

He knows it can help Ken. He knows it in his gut, which he only trusts once in a great while. He really wishes it wouldn't thin his last good nerve to do so.

Reluctantly, he decides to turn in early. If he doesn't, he'll probably squint until he gets a headache.

Hours later, the darkness of his room starts to shift from the light on his computer table. He rolls over to ignore it at first. Then panic and surprise set in and he bolts towards it.

It glitters and flashes and then starts screeching like nails on a chalkboard. He scowls and lunges for it. It burns. His fingers blister up inhumanly fast, but he's got it now and can't let go.

Then his computer turns on, despite him never pressing the power button. It doesn't boot up. The monitor instead glows the same color as the device. Osamu feels a strange tug in his chest and soon finds himself falling. He can't really see what he's falling down in but he's vaguely sure he is falling.

Of course he hits the ground and blacks out while he's at it, but, well, it's a small price to pay for something working at long last.

All he can think of is, what will his parents think to nearly lose both boys at once? He hopes they don't have to think about it any time soon.

He can't promise that not to be forever.