Acting Like Armageddon

by Queen Tzahra

"Acting is energy. In the theater, people pay to see energy." It's Fuuma's fourth summer directing at Babylon Theatre Company, a prestigious collective in Upstate New York, away from the dirt and distraction and anxiety of the city. However, you dirt on people you work with, new relationships distract and uncovering feelings is anxiety provoking.

7. Chapter 7

Hello, everyone! Greetings from the anarchist jurisdiction!

I hope you're all doing well. Yet again the last few weeks have been really busy, which is why it took me so long to get this chapter edited and posted. Also it's just a beast, like... Why did I think I'd be able to keep to a similar posting schedule to a story where the average chapter length was 5,000 words? I have no idea. Whatever, it's up and I have to say I'm pleased. Seriously, let's go in and get to know everyone even better! Also let's get some more cast members laid! Mmhmm, Sorata absolutely kills me here, I won't lie. Also Hokuto and Kusanagi, hmm...

Also I was busy for reasons that are actually, like, fun, as opposed to just disruptive. Last Thursday I went on a ten hour whale watching excursion and it was AMAZING. We saw so many whales (including this one with a curly dorsal fin who followed us and showed off a lot) and dolphins, plus sea turtles and even a shark for a hot second! It would have been better had I gotten abducted by a wayward prince on a submarine, but ahh well. You can't have everything, I suppose.

I think that's it...? Yes. Enjoy chapter 7!

Disclaimer: I'm making no money off of this, all the characters belong to CLAMP.

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"A writer can write an essay, but the writer can never predict or control how that essay is interpreted by the reader, be it in the tone of levelheaded calmness or a preachy, holier-than-thou condescending way."

Tyler Childers

Kusanagi picked a tomato, breaking the stem with a wet crunch, and brought it up to his nose. As he inhaled its warm, summery smell and the dewy morning air, he knew a flood of memories of his mother and his childhood home. His parents had always grown berries, herbs and vegetables, though his mother insisted it was impossible to get enough light in Clow. Kusanagi smiled, picked a few more tomatoes and some basil and returned to his cool, shady kitchen, panelled in dark wood that matched the blades of the whirring ceiling fan. He rinsed the tomatoes in the sink, then began to slice them. As juice oozed from the deep red fruit, he remembered his mother again, calling the pale insides of the tomatoes at the grocery store anemic. Kusanagi had repeated the word, but hadn't actually learned what it meant until he was much older and under much sadder circumstances.

He picked up a slice of tomato and bit into it. "Mm…" He liked to think he'd done his mother proud as he chopped the rest of the tomatoes and basil and threw everything into a mixing bowl. He then doused it all with olive oil, salt and pepper and spices before covering the bowl with a wet cloth to let everything marinate. Immediately he looked forward to eating the sauce over pasta during his dinner break. It was his father's recipe, though the story of where it came from originally changed every time he'd told it.

Kusanagi washed his hands and picked up his cellphone from where it was charging on the counter to ask Hokuto if she wanted more tomatoes. He didn't expect a reply; she'd probably be busy, like everyone was in the summer. It sometimes occurred to him that he could easily get by on his construction business alone, but his relationship with Babylon Theatre Company ran deeper than extra cash.

Before Kusanagi was born, Setsuka Sakurazuka and the other five founding members of Babylon Theatre Company had hired his father to restore the building that would ultimately become the Igarashi, and they'd kept up their professional relationship as the company and its reputation grew. During school vacations, Kusanagi had gone to work with his father, learning both about construction and theater, techniques for building and breathing, physical and narrative structure. He'd loved being able to help, even if it was just painting a set piece no one would really see or playing a small role on alternate nights. He hadn't believed any of the actors when they'd told him he had a good eye for design until he was in high school, shortly before his father had gotten sick.

His mother had told Setsuka the diagnosis in the off season, and she and her colleagues had immediately stepped up and provided financial and emotional support until his death, when Kusanagi was a year into college. It had been an enormous gift, so naturally Kusanagi had tried to do the same for Seishiro after Setsuka's sudden death two years later. Unfortunately, that proved challenging because he was only twenty one and had few resources, but mostly because Seishiro was Seishiro.

They hadn't ever been friends necessarily, but they'd grown up together and had hung out when Seishiro was on set during school vacations and had always respected each other. They'd recognized quickly in each other a preference to be alone, though Kusanagi was quiet and content while Seishiro was cold and withdrawn, even as a kid. After Setsuki died, it had gotten worse, and even though he took over her position on BTC's Board of Directors, for nearly fifteen years he only did his part when it was absolutely necessary.

However, something had shifted after he'd met Fuuma. My Name No One Shall Know was the first show Seishiro had actually seemed invested in, and he'd stepped up and done his part to support Fuuma and the company, and the results had been explosive. Unfortunately, Fuuma had also driven everyone crazy, walking in supremely confident and sure of his vision and incredibly demanding of everyone who was to help him achieve it. Kusanagi hadn't trusted him (he still didn't, if he were honest) because he'd immediately reminded him of the man who'd directed the production of Macbeth whose poster still hung in the Igarashi's lobby, another BTC who Setsuka had met doing The Importance of Being Earnest in their high school's drama club (they loved to tell the story at parties and fundraising events). Other board members had noticed it too, and whispered behind their hands when Seishiro had his back turned.

Seishiro and Kusanagi had both played small roles in that Macbeth, when they'd been fifteen and had nothing else to do on summer break. "Did your mom shove you on stage again?" Kusanagi had asked, sympathetically.

"No, he asked me," Seishiro had replied, evasively, referring to the director, and Kusanagi hadn't pressed the issue. However, he could still remember the grueling tech, the screaming matches the director got into with everyone but mostly with Setsuka, the on and offstage drama, but also the applause, the encores, the press coverage. Kusanagi hadn't really understood the appeal, and Seishiro didn't seem to be enjoying it either, though the rest of the cast had basked in it.

After the show had wrapped, the director went to work in London, returning periodically to see Setsuka perform, and then of course for her funeral, which was the last time Kusanagi had seen him in person.

Kusanagi often wondered when Fuuma would leave (and sometimes hoped it would be soon). It was never a question of if: it had been clear from the start that no matter how good a gig this was, how much people here liked him and his work, he'd love it and leave it like anything else. He was curious if Seishiro also knew this, though he doubted he'd ever ask him.

Kusanagi stared out of his kitchen window at the tomatoes he'd started growing from seeds back in February, when Clow had been covered in three feet of snow and empty of everyone except those who lived up here full time and BTI students doing winter intensives. He'd look to see if Yuzuriha was there, though he was secretly pleased when she wasn't: she'd do better to be out working, preferably somewhere visible and profitable. He'd liked her energy and her attitude and her smile from the moment he'd met her as a BTI student, but he hadn't let anything besides platonic affection take root. Not when she was so much younger and her career was just beginning and he was so good at staying out of BTC gossip.

With a heavy sigh, Kusanagi checked the time, then gathered his keys and wallet and headed out the door, still thinking of Seishiro and Yuzuriha.

"No, he asked me."

'Sometimes it really is that simple, isn't it?' Kusanagi thought. He himself had stepped up to play Dr. Grant after a drop out because Seishiro had asked him to. Kakyo had come up here with Hokuto when she'd asked him to, then played Lieutenant Transeau when Fuuma had asked him to. That decision had caused something of a stir around all three theaters, though no one said it to his face.

"Hokuto's new project got a role in Fuuma Monou's show!"

"When there's how many people who actually auditioned?! That's bullshit!"

"Yeah he's getting all those special voice and movement classes too. I bet he's not even good…"

Kusanagi found their envy tiresome and thought it was deeply unfair for them to call Kakyo "Hokuto's new project." Yes Kakyo wasn't the first person going through hard times she'd brought with her to Babylon to assist her, but she was actively trying to help people, why was this a bad thing and what business was it of theirs anyway? Hokuto was just one of those people, and as far as Kusanagi was concerned the world could use more of them. Setsuka had always done things like that too: outreach for young people, scholarships for arts education, donation based performances and the like. However, to hear people talk about her, it seemed her mere presence was sometimes enough. People like Karen and Kanoe would see her perform and be inspired to act or study theater themselves. Kusanagi could still remember Q&A sessions after shows, parties, or just around town, when people would tell her such. She would reply with kindness and grace, though Seishiro would glare and roll his eyes. Kusanagi didn't think either of them were doing it for show. He himself had always liked Setsuka, admired all that she'd accomplished and been grateful to her for how kind she was to his parents.

He climbed up into his truck, and as he plugged in his cellphone to play music, he noticed a text from Fuuma. Immediately annoyed, Kusanagi ignored the text and put his truck in gear. Very few people could get under Kusanagi's skin the way Fuuma did, and he was sure that'd be true even if he didn't spend so much of his professional life trying to understand him. Kusanagi had often discussed this with Satsuki, Nataku and Hokuto, those other people who spent so much time untangling Fuuma's knotted sentences and mixed messages. They'd all wondered if this had always been a problem for Fuuma, if it was part of why he was so good at hearing and seeing other people.

The drive into town was quick, leafy and breezy, and he spotted Yuzuriha, Arashi, Karen and Kakyo on their way to the Igarashi as he pulled into BTC's parking lot. He honked, and they waved. Yuzuriha gave him an extra smile over her shoulder, but then Fuuma skidded into the parking space right beside him, sending gravel and dust flying.

"You get my text?" he asked, the moment they were both out of their cars.

"Yeah but I didn't read it," Kusanagi replied. Fuuma burst out laughing. Kusanagi rolled his eyes, but then smiled. "What's up?"

"Nothing too pertinent," replied Fuuma, gesturing airily with his water bottle. As they made their way into the lobby together, Kusanagi noticed the dark shadows beneath Fuuma's slightly dazed eyes.

"You look exhausted," said Kusanagi, concernedly.

"Seishiro's finally got his ass up here," said Fuuma, rather smugly. Kusanagi nodded, his interest immediately sparked. "He'll show up today at some point, probably."

"At some point?"

"Yeah he's got shit to do, plus you know how he gets."

"I do know." Fuuma smirked.

"Yeah just don't tell anyone else though, please. I don't need them getting over excited." Kusanagi understood "them" to mean Kanoe.

"That's no problem." The lobby door opened at that moment, and Satsuki entered, a muscle relief patch on her upper back visible under her tank top.

"Morning," she said, coolly.

"What happened to your shoulder?" Kusanagi asked at once. Satsuki rolled her eyes.

"Being cramped up over a switchboard all day, obviously," she replied, with a sideways glance at Fuuma.

"I'm sorry," he said, sipping from his water bottle.

"You look like death," she replied, with a sarcastic smile.

"I've got weed in my truck," Kusanagi offered, and Satsuki's smile lost some of its edge.

"Talk to me after we're done," she said. She was supposed to meet briefly with Yuuto and Kanoe to finalize their plans for the weekend and an intoxicant would be welcome. "Are we starting from Act One today?"

"Yup," replied Fuuma, "let's get to it!" Kusanagi and Satsuki exchanged an eye roll behind Fuuma's back as he strolled into the theater, still swinging his water bottle. Kusanagi followed him inside while Satsuki went right up to the lighting booth. "Good morning!" Fuuma called, extravagantly.

"Good morning!" Keiichi called back, and though a few people waved, Fuuma could tell everyone was simultaneously wound up and tired.

"Already? We've got the whole play to get through today!"

"Your ability to run at full speed all the time is kind of astounding, honestly," said Yuuto, and Kanoe gave him a glowing smile. Up in the lighting booth, Satsuki pressed the pain relief patch into her shoulder, trying to massage more of its artificial heat into her muscles.

"Hey, someone's gotta," Fuuma replied, even as his body was begging him to sit down. "All right, let's set up for Act One, get into costume if you haven't already." The cast dispersed, some people running backstage to change, others grabbing set pieces and props.

"Here," Nataku said, appearing suddenly with coffee.

"Where did you come from?" Fuuma asked, accepting the cup.

"Thin air, obviously."

"Ha ha…"

"I was in the office starting to get previews organized-"

"Already?" Nataku just stared at Fuuma, as though in the silence he'd realize how ridiculous his surprise was. "Sorry, my brain is like, not connected to reality in any meaningful way right now, talk to me about previews after tech."

"That doesn't leave me a lot of time."

"You say that like it's my problem." Nataku rolled his eyes, and Fuuma slid his phone out of his pocket. "I don't really see how it's your problem either, let the adminisphere handle that." Fuuma smirked as he thought of Seishiro and all of the meetings he'd be stuck in and administrative bullshit he'd be sucked into while he was here. However, his smirk softened into an affectionate smile when he saw a text from him.

'have a good day' He'd left Seishiro at his kitchen counter with coffee he'd made for him and a kiss goodbye and had received the promise to stop by later in return.

'you too'

"Or get Seishiro to help you once he gets here." Nataku's eyes widened as much as they ever did and the corners of his mouth tightened, but he said nothing and went to help set up for Act One. Fuuma fell back into his usual seat, set the mug of coffee on the armrest and dug his script out of his bag. On stage, Kusanagi, Yuuto, Sorata and Kamui were carrying the dining table to its mark while Arashi, Subaru, Karen and Yuzuriha followed with chairs. "Easy, easy!" called Kusanagi. "Pick up a little more on your side, Yuuto? There we are." The set the table down, and Kusanagi almost walked into Yuzuriha just behind him. "Oh I'm sorry! Are you all right?" She grinned.

"I'm fine!"

"Here, you can hand that to me," Sorata said to Arashi, who passed him the dining chair with the smallest of smiles.

"Okay, places for the top of Act One, please!" Fuuma called, once the set was ready, before turning in his seat to address Satsuki. "Yes?"

"Yes," she snapped. Fuuma checked his phone one more time, but found no new messages.

"All right, let me see it." Everyone took their places, and Satsuki shut off all the lights. The screen glowed, and the scene began. Fuuma felt his focus close in on the stage, and as though he'd gotten new eyes since he'd last seen Act One, every tiny flaw and detail seemed magnified. He'd known this was going to happen, or he should have, which was no less frustrating. However, maybe it was left over satisfaction or exhaustion from last night, because rather than stop and nit pick, he stopped only at glaring problems, of which there were very few, and made notes of other things to fix later.

They transitioned smoothly into Act Two, and the lack of music to complete the mood was even clearer and more annoying. He watched the act with the same microscopic gaze, making notes, pausing only as Sorata and Arashi were kissing passionately on the dining table to exaggerate the lights and shadows. Karen took center stage to sing, then Satsuki killed all the lights.

"Take ten!" called Fuuma. He tried and failed to distract himself with his phone and coffee and ended up fidgeting in his seat, bouncing his knee and desperate to get back in. When they finally began Act Three, everything was okay, until they got to Kusanagi's entrance, to the lighting cue he'd agnozined over the day before. Now, with fresh eyes, the decision to keep both spotlights over the stairs on for the whole act seemed like the stupidest thing anyone had ever done in the history of theater. "Sorry, everyone, I just… Something isn't right and I'm not sure what's going on." Nataku rolled his eyes while Subaru, Yuzuriha, Yuuto and Kusanagi all exchanged looks.

"Is it the lights themselves?" Satsuki asked, already sounding exhausted.

"I don't know," replied Fuuma, doing his utmost not to snap. "Can I just see it again, please? From the top?" Kanoe sighed heavily and Fuuma bit back a retort as everyone returned to their marks. They ran the first part of the scene, and Fuuma called for the lights to be warmer and cooler, brighter and dimmer, sharper and softer, but even after almost a half hour of this he was still undecided. He actually got to his feet, his arms folded in front of his chest, brows knitted and eyes narrowed. He felt his focus like metal bands around his struggling brain, getting tighter and tighter.

"Maybe step away for a second?" Nataku suggested, quietly. Fuuma closed his eyes and took a deep breath in through his nose, willing himself not to raise his voice.

"I'll tell you when I need a break, thank you. Again! With the cooler tone! Wait, does that make it harder to see the screen?"

"No, like I pointed out, it sharpens the contrast, look," replied Satsuki, impatiently. She warmed the tone, and Fuuma made a noise of frustrated disgust.

"Yeah the other one."

"Fuuma."

"Okay if the lights stay on that's what I want. That looks better than yesterday."

"It's the same lights you had yesterday, but all right," replied Satsuki, before she could stop herself.

"Fuuma."

"No it isn't!" Fuuma argued with Satsuki, though she was probably right. "Okay, start now!"

"Fuuma."

"Yes?!" he snapped, not looking at Nataku, who replied, sardonically,

"We have a visitor."

"The fuck are you talking about?"

"Seishiro's here." The constricting bands of focus and irritation around Fuuma's brain snapped off, allowing it to fill all of the space in his skull again, receptive and gooey. He spun around to find Seishiro framed in the doorway, looking about with a kind of vague interest.

"Hold up!" called Fuuma, loudly, yanking everyone out of the stagnant numbness in the room. "Satsuki can you bring up the house lights, please?" She did so, and Fuuma sprinted to the door, ignoring the soft gasps of those people in the room who knew Seishiro. "Hi!" Fuuma exclaimed, coming to stand in front of him, the stage lights creating a strange halo around him from behind.

"Hello," he replied, and the tiniest of smiles ghosted his mouth. Fuuma smiled back, turned around and led him to the stage, catching himself before he put his hand on his lower back.

"Everyone come here a sec," Fuuma said, though it was entirely unnecessary: everyone had already gathered in a curious huddle in front of the stage. Seishiro shook hands with Kusanagi and nodded Yuuto and Kanoe, who had her eyes glued to his face; Satsuki as she hurried towards them from the lighting booth and finally Nataku, who had rushed to Fuuma's side and was now standing far closer than he would normally have done. "So for those of you who don't know," Fuuma said, loudly, smiling reassuringly at Nataku. "This is Seishiro Sakurazuka." Eight pairs of eyes widened as the name clicked into place. Karen placed her hand on her chest while Sorata, Keiichi, Kamui, Yuzuriha, Subaru and Arashi all exchanged eager looks. Seishiro inclined his head to them and Fuuma smirked. "Indeed. Head of BTC's Board of Directors and mastermind behind this show, coming to check up on us."

"Ooh, mastermind," Seishiro said, the sarcasm under the appreciation just loud enough for Fuuma to catch. Everyone else laughed.

"But is that not accurate?" Fuuma countered, raising his eyebrows. Seishiro shrugged. "Anyway, I've been stuck on this one thing for mad long, help me."

"My timing has never been better," Seishiro replied over a noise of disgust from Nataku. Fuuma grinned and addressed his cast again.

"Places for the top of Act Three. We'll run it with the lights on then off one more time."

"One more time?" Subaru and Kanoe asked together before catching each other's eye and laughing. Fuuma replied with a sweet, ingratiating smile, then threw himself into his front row seat.

"Come sit!" Nataku and Seishiro sat down on either side of him. "Let me see it!" The theater went completely dark, and Satsuki allowed a beat before the screen came on, emitting its red, smoky blackness, followed by the barely visible lights on the sides of the stage. Although Fuuma was paying attention, he kept watch on Seishiro out of the corner of his eye, eager for his reaction.

"Hm," Seishiro said, approvingly, and Fuuma's stomach turned over. The would-be emergency vehicle light swept across the stage and over the audience, and Seishiro leaned forward in his seat, his expression impassive except for his eyes, which were sharply focused straight ahead. Kanoe and Subaru entered from the stairs and, apparently reinvigorated by Seishiro's presence, gave their best performances of the day. Yuzuriha and Yuuto joined them, fueling the energy, and they took the scene until Kusanagi sat down at the edge of the stairs, the light above him coming on to illuminate him. He waited a moment, then looked expectantly at Fuuma.

"So that's one version," he told Seishiro, who nodded. "Now let's see the other one." They ran the whole thing again, this time with the lights over the stairs on the entire time. Again, Kusanagi waited a moment, then looked to Fuuma, clearly begging for a decision.

"This is what you've been agonizing over?" Seishiro asked, incredulously.

"Yes," replied Fuuma, shamelessly.

"How much time have you wasted on this? Truly?"

"I thought my commitment to quality control and standards was what you liked about my work!" Fuuma replied, outraged and avoiding the question. Seishiro blinked, and his gaze hardened.

"Yes but not to the point of wasting time on meticulous details only you notice," he replied, sneering. Fuuma was taken aback by something menacing in his tone that went beyond their usual bickering.

"I'm sorry," he replied, calmly, confused but choosing not to engage. "Should I just drop the bar I so graciously raised at Babylon back into the Mariana Trench where I found it?" They held each other's gaze for a moment's tense silence.

"Keep the lights on the whole time."

"Thanks," replied Fuuma, impatiently. "You heard that, Satsuki?!"

"Yes, thank god."

"Anyway!" Fuuma checked the time on his phone. "Let's take ten, I need to get out of this room." And with that, he returned to the lobby, Nataku at his heels. Seishiro followed a little ways behind, but Fuuma ignored him until they were all beside the bar and he'd poured himself more coffee. The bitterness and sunlight seemed to reset his brain, reminding him that he shouldn't take Seishiro's attitude personally: it was probably just from being back here and objectified by the cast and board members. 'Fucking tech's got me thinking that shit is my problem,' he thought, irritably.

"I like what I see," came Seishiro's voice from behind him. Fuuma turned and met his gaze over the rim of his mug.

"Oh yeah?"

"Yes."

"You mean that?"

"I do."

"Good." They were still staring hard at each other, but Fuuma allowed him a smile.

There was a sudden flurry of activity from the entrance to the theater as Subaru and Kamui exited together, talking playfully. However, they stopped the moment they caught sight of Fuuma, Seishiro and Nataku. "You two, come here," commanded Fuuma. Subaru and Kamui looked at each other, then approached, eyeing Seishiro rather nervously. Seishiro shifted against the bar, his shoulders pulling back and head tilting to the side. "I told you Hokuto's brother was fucking great," Fuuma said, loudly. Subaru looked completely taken aback, though very pleased, while Kamui gave him an admiring smile. Although Seishiro smiled too, he was clearly still observing as he extended his hand. Looking more surprised and pleased than ever, Subaru took it.

"I'm Subaru."

"I know. Your sister has a lot to say."

"Oh god," replied Subaru, horrified. However, the other three laughed.

"And you?" Seishiro asked, extending his hand to Kamui now. "You're our lead but I don't know you."

"I'm Kamui," he said, shaking Seishiro's hand. His eyes darted for a second to Fuuma as though hoping for praise too. "Kamui Shirou." Seishiro nodded.

"You'll see how good he is if we actually get through the rest of this act before our dinner break," Fuuma told Seishiro, and Kamui looked very pleased as he let go of his hand. "Don't let us keep you from your nicotine," Fuuma added to Subaru.

"I appreciate that," he replied with an ironic bow.

"See you in a few minutes," Fuuma said, and as they turned to go Kamui placed his hand on Subaru's lower back. "Aren't they sweet?" Fuuma muttered to Seishiro, shifting closer to him. However, before he could reply,

"You're finally here!" Kanoe rushed up to them with Yuuto in tow.

"I am," Seishiro agreed, crossing his arms in front of his chest. Fuuma was never sure what exactly it was about Kanoe that stressed Seishiro out, whether it was her general ability to discompose, her hero worship of his mother or her and Yuuto's circumstances for one reason or another.

"You have to come over for dinner," she continued, addressing both of them in a low voice as though trying to block off Nataku and other potential eavesdroppers. Seishiro's expression remained impassive as Yuuto and Fuuma exchanged a look. "The four of us and Mr. and Mrs. Aoki! It'll be really intimate and nice." Fuuma knew there was no getting out of this and decided to save Seishiro the humiliation of agreeing.

"When?" he asked, smiling. Kanoe's face glowed, and Fuuma could suddenly imagine her as the small girl who had been so transformed by Setsuka's performance, who had wanted to be just like the lead actress even though she could never quite pull it off.

"Are we working another ten out of twelve on Saturday?" she asked.

"Maybe."

"Fuuma…"

"No seriously, I'm not sure," he replied, placatingly. "It depends on how much we get done today. Let's just say Sunday instead. We have Monday off anyway."

"That's true," Kanoe agreed, nodding.

"All right, Sunday it is then," Fuuma said, shifting closer to Seishiro. Kanoe smiled and took Yuuto's hand.

"You know it's been like, fifteen minutes already, right?" Nataku interjected impatiently.

"See, this is why I need you here," Fuuma told him with a smile, before addressing the group at large. "We'll see you in there." Yuuto and Kanoe exchanged a satisfied smile and returned to the theater at once, while Nataku went outside to yell for Subaru and Kamui. Once everyone was distracted, Seishiro turned to face Fuuma. "Sorry," he said, quietly, and he meant it.

"It was going to happen," Seishiro replied, indifferently.

"Truth." Fuuma sighed and gazed at Seishiro thoughtfully. "Are you gonna stay and watch?"

"I'll have to won't I? To see your stars?" Seishiro's antagonism sharpened as his eyes followed Kamui, Subaru and Nataku's retreating backs.

"Don't be fucking rude," Fuuma replied. However, once they were alone, he nosed playfully at Seishiro's hair. "Seriously, I'm glad you're here. Stay." Seishiro gave him a grudging look and led him back into the theater. The house lights were already off, and Kusanagi was sitting on the stairs stage right while Yuzuriha, Yuuto and Subaru were downstage left, all illuminated by the lighting they'd finally decided upon. "We're finally moving on, are you guys excited?" Fuuma asked as he and Seishiro took their seats beside Nataku.

"Here's hoping!" Keiichi cried.

"Yeah yeah," Fuuma said, over his cast's laughter. "Let's take it from your monologue, Dr. Grant." Everyone fell silent at once and the collective focus locked on Kusanagi. He took a deep breath in and sighed it out, his eyes suddenly out of focus as he hunched over his knees. The action rippled out through everyone watching, and Seishiro shifted in his seat and narrowed his eyes at the stage.

"Fuck them all," Kusanagi said, his voice low and gravelly. Subaru, Yuuto and Yuzuriha all exchanged worried looks. "Last Thursday I treated a woman at the hospital… She died. And it's my fault she died." He paused. "Maybe twenty five years ago I could have been different, but now I can't remember a goddamn fucking thing."

"Hm," muttered Seishiro.

"My head is empty. My soul is empty. All I do is eat, walk and sleep." Kusanagi stopped abruptly and stared blankly over the audience. Subaru and Yuzuriha took their exit upstage left while Yuuto stayed put, watching Kusanagi warily. "Who the hell knows?" he continued, picking himself up and swaying slightly as he made his way upstage to the bed. "Day before yesterday I was hanging around with the other doctors, and everyone's name dropping Shakespeare, Voltaire… I've never read them! I've never read them but I act like I have and so did everyone else! Shabby fuckers."

"Indeed," Fuuma muttered to Seishiro, who replied with a small noise of agreement. Kusanagi sank onto the bed, his face in his hands, while Kakyo, Karen and Sorata took their marks downstage left. In the audience, Yuzuriha was staring fixedly at Kusanagi, her eyes huge and throat visibly tight.

"And then I remembered that woman who died on Thursday, and I went out and started drinking." Karen waited a moment, then, from the bottom of the stairs,

"They'll leave us alone here." She looked and sounded absolutely exhausted, and the lines continued. Like Yuzuriha, Kanoe, Subaru and Kamui, everyone was boosted by Seishiro's presence, so even though they'd started the day tired, their delivery was sharp and focused and fast. As they got closer and closer to the clock smashing, Fuuma actually turned in his seat to watch for Seishiro's reaction.

"They're already talking about organizing a concert on behalf of the victims of the fire," said Kakyo, trying bravely for a normal tone despite everyone's exhaustion and shell shock.

"Already?" Karen asked, wearily.

"I'll help," Kakyo continued, decisively, with a sideways look at Sorata, who was sitting silently on the bed now Kusanagi had meandered upstage. "Maudie plays piano, she could help too."

"And she plays so well!" interjected Yuuto, proudly, distracted for a moment from keeping track of Kusanagi.

"She hasn't played in like, three years, she's probably forgotten," said Karen, regretfully. "It might even be four."

"No one here understands music, but I do," Kakyo countered, with enough irony that Seishiro's lip curled and Fuuma's heart swelled. "Maudie plays very well, I assure you." Karen actually smiled at him.

"That's right! I love her, my Maudie," Yuuto interjected again, though no one paid him any attention.

"To be able to play so well even knowing no one around you understands you," said Kakyo, still with that little ironic zest. At last, Sorata looked up and seemed to realize there were other people in the room, while behind him Kusanagi picked up the clock on the bedside table.

"I got covered in ash and god knows what else in that fire," said Sorata, bleakly. Everyone turned to look at him, but he swallowed and said, "Yesterday I heard something about the brigade being transferred to another base. Somewhere far away."

"I heard that too," replied Kakyo, on a more serious note. "This town's gonna be desolate."

"And we'll be gone!" exclaimed Karen, loudly but hopefully. Behind them, Kusanagi let go of the clock, which smashed to pieces on the floor that caught the smokey light of the screen as they scattered. Everyone jumped, even Seishiro, and Fuuma returned his gaze gluttonously to the stage.

"Smithereens," said Kusanagi, and a moment passed in stunned silence.

"F-minus, Doctor!" Yuuto chided, though the joke was ruined by his clear worry and embarrassment.

"That clock was Mom's," Karen said, her exhaustion coming across way ahead of her sadness. Kusanagi stepped awkwardly around them, steadying himself against the wardrobe as he made his way downstage to stand under the spotlight above the stairs stage right, casting a bleary look at Sorata, who was now watching Karen, Yuuto and Kakyo clear up the clock with pained detachment.

"It could be," Kusanagi said, turning to the audience and adopting a sarcastic parody of the tone he used while philosophizing in previous scenes. "If it's Mom's, it's Mom's. Could be I didn't actually break it, it just seems like it. Maybe it only seems like we exist." He reverted to matter-of-fact drunkenness. "Maybe someone's made all this shit up. I don't know anything. No one knows shit." He switched to an obnoxious sing song voice. "Natalie's fucking Nathan and you all act like you don't see it!" Karen, Kakyo and Yuuto ignored him, still preoccupied with the clock. "Really? You really don't see it?" When he received no answer, Kusanagi heaved a heavy sigh and trudged down the stairs, singing softly to himself. "I know your wife, and she wouldn't mind…" He slouched back into the audience and sank into the seat beside Kanoe, looking suddenly exhausted. Both Seishiro and Yuzuriha were staring at him.

"Yeah," Sorata said, as though suddenly jolted to alertness. "God this is fucking bizarre. When the fire broke out, I rushed home, and when I got there my little girls were outside in nothing but their pajamas, their mother was missing, our neighbor's horses were running, alarms were going off, and I saw their faces and-" His voice broke and he pressed his fingers to his mouth. "I don't know," he said, and his eyes filled with tears. "All I could think of was oh my god what else will they go through, they have so much time ahead of them!" He stopped again and cleared his throat. When he next spoke, his tone was utterly disgusted. "Then I find their mother throwing a fucking tantrum."

"Hm," muttered Seishiro. Sorata buried his face in his hands as Arashi slowly entered from the stairs stage left, staring hard at Sorata and completely ignoring Yuuto trying to catch her eye.

"When," Sorata began again, after a moment, dropping his hands into his lap and speaking to them rather than anyone on stage. "When my little girls were standing on the doorstep in nothing but their pajamas, barefoot, and the air was smokey and the sky was red and it was so loud, I remembered missions, invasions, infiltrations." He shuddered, and the deadened exhaustion in his eyes became suddenly more pronounced. "It's completely different, obviously, from back then, but in two hundred, three hundred years, people will look back on all of this and be horrified and disgusted, everything we think is normal now will be awkward and fucked up and strange." He looked out over the audience, the utter horror in his voice contrasting creepily with his glazed eyes.

"Hm," muttered Seishiro again.

"Fuck, life is so weird!" Sorata exclaimed, reverting jarringly back to an almost normal tone and manner. Karen, Yuuto and Kakyo all jumped and exchanged looks, and Sorata finally seemed to register that there were other people in the room. "Sorry, I didn't mean to start spinning out like that," he said with rather an awkward laugh. He spotted Arashi across the stage and managed to smile at her, but as she came to sit beside him he cast a guilty look at Yuuto out of the corner of his eye. "Imagine though," he persisted, trying for a galvanizing tone that just made him sound uncomfortable. "Now there's only three people like you, but later on there will be more, and then everything will change to be like your way, and that'll become obsolete. People will evolve to be even more superior to you!" He paused, and everyone, including Arashi, stared at him with rapt attention. "This is so weird, all I can think right now is how much I want to live." Arashi smiled a tight smile that didn't match the tenderness in her eyes. "Come on baby, let's ride," he sang softly to her. "We can escape to the great sunshine…"

"I know your wife," Arashi sang back.

"And she wouldn't mind…"

In the lighting booth, the pain in Satsuki's shoulder throbbed and she pressed against the muscle relief patch, willing it to work better than it was. She thought longingly of the weed Kusanagi had promised her, how while high her shoulder didn't hurt and she wouldn't hate the conversation she, Yuuto and Kanoe were to have after rehearsal. 'I know your wife and she wouldn't mind indeed,' thought Satsuki, spitefully. As she watched the scene continue, she wondered for nowhere near the first time what would happen if she told Kanoe about her and Yuuto. Well no, she didn't wonder, because she knew immediately both possible outcomes and had from the start: Kanoe wouldn't believe her but would keep Yuuto away from her anyway or their relationship would deteriorate and it would be all her fault. Either way, she'd never get to fuck Yuuto again.

"Satsuki, can you saturate the lights over the bed just a touch?" Fuuma called, and Satsuki did so, further illuminating Yuuto fussing over Arashi despite her clearly wanting nothing to do with him.

"That's perfect! Okay keep going." The lines and lights continued until it was just Arashi, Subaru and Karen on stage. Just like yesterday, Fuuma was impressed by Arashi, and muttered to Seishiro, "Maudie had a hard time in the beginning, but she's doing fucking great now, right?"

"I see," replied Seishiro.

"You think I was joking? Fuck outta here," Arashi countered. Subaru just shook his head and put his arm around Karen. Arashi hesitated a moment, then, "I need to tell you guys something, and I'm only going to say it once so pay attention." Subaru let go of Karen and the two of them turned to face her, looking rather like disapproving school teachers. Arashi sat up straight and stared at her siblings with eyes full of meaning. "I'm, I'm in love with Colonel Young." Subaru did an about face and strode across the stage to exit, muttering,

"Oh fuck me…"

"It's not my fault!" Arashi cried, outraged, springing to her feet and pulling Subaru back by the arm. "At first I just felt sorry for him, but now I'm in love!" Her voice broke as, unconsciously it seemed, her eyes darted to Sorata in the audience.

"Focus," Fuuma said, warningly. Kamui shoved Sorata playfully, then got up to take his cue.

"Another ten years off my life, I swear to god," said Subaru wearily, wrenching his arm out of Arashi's grip.

"You're such a prick, you know that?" Arashi snapped. "I love him, and he loves me and it's fucking terrible." Subaru tried to catch Karen's eye, to exchange an exasperated look, but she just embraced her sister. Arashi stiffened, but then shuddered and sagged against Karen, her hands scrabbling at the back of her dress. "What happened?!" she demanded, her furious horror loud and clear though her face was buried in Karen's neck. "When you read about love in novels or see it on TV it seems so simple, but then you actually fall in love and realize no one knows anything about relationships at all and we're all just making shit up as we go along!" Her voice suddenly broke and she pushed Karen away, her eyes huge as if she'd only just realized what she was saying. "Fuck," she said, softly. Her tone had shifted completely, going from the horror Fuuma always told her to play up to something almost relieved, or empowered, or excited, and Karen and Subaru both shivered. Again, Arashi's eyes darted to Sorata, who smiled at her from the audience.

"What was that?" Nataku muttered as Subaru and Karen ushered Arashi back onto the bed.

"Shh," Fuuma said, smirking.

"Jackson?!" demanded Kamui, striding up the stairs downstage right. His siblings all jumped, then fixed him with a venomous look. "There you are! I need the keys to the bookcase, I can't find mine!" No one said anything, and Kamui realized embarrassedly how bad his timing was. However, Subaru extracted his keys from his back pocket and handed them over, his expression still openly hostile. "That fire was fucking crazy, right?" Kamui asked in a purposefully jockular tone that did nothing to lighten the mood. Seishiro made a disgusted noise in his throat, echoing the expressions on Subaru, Arashi and Karen's faces.

"Right?" muttered Fuuma, still smirking, and the scene continued. Fuuma watched for Seishiro's reaction. Seishiro crossed his arms and tilted his head to the side, looking almost suspicious of Kamui's performance, but his eyebrows raised in what Fuuma took to be surprised excitement as the whole cast walked around the stage like a chaotic whirlpool, out of which Karen and Subaru eventually emerged.

"Jackson?" Karen asked, sitting beside Subaru on the bed. "Did you hear? The brigade is leaving. They're going somewhere far away." Subaru turned to look at her.

"That's just a rumor."

"We'll be all alone here, Jackson!" she cried, trying and failing to laugh.

"Yeah," Subaru replied, with a smile that made him look like he had lockjaw. A moment's silence passed, then,

"Transeau's a good guy, right?" Karen cried, taking hold of Subaru's upper arm and squeezing it. "I'll tell him, we'll get together! But please, promise me we'll go back to New York!" Subaru hugged Karen and the theater went completely black. Immediately Fuuma looked to Seishiro, and through the sudden darkness, saw him nod.

"Take that transition and we'll start from the top of Act Four after break!" Fuuma called, and immediately everyone got to work. "So?" Fuuma asked Seishiro under the cover of the noise and sudden brightness as Satsuki turned on the house lights. "Better than last year, right?" Seishiro rolled his eyes, but nodded again, watching Subaru, Yuuto, Keiichi and Sorata pick up the bed and carry it backstage.

"I like it," Seishiro said, simply. "You're ridiculous about tech." Fuuma felt Seishiro had some nerve calling him ridiculous about anything, but knew better than to say so.

"I have to be, especially if it's my last show here." Seishiro's eyes narrowed. "I just hope I can get everything done before that fucking party on Sunday." Seishiro replied with a disgusted noise. "I'll be there, you won't have to do anything," Fuuma reminded him.

"You cast this show well," Seishiro said, fairly, ignoring the last comment.

"Yeah all my plans come to fruition in the end," Fuuma snorted.

"I thought you never plan anything."

"That's also part of my plan!" He waggled his eyebrows at Seishiro, and though he looked annoyed for a moment, he actually allowed him a laugh.

"Shut your mouth."

"I'll remember you said that later."

"Can we get the fuck out of here now, please?" Satsuki asked. Everyone laughed, even Fuuma.

"Yeah sure, rest and recover so we can come back for more torture in two hours."

"Ooh it hurts so good!" Keiichi interjected in a high pitched moan. Everyone dissolved into fits of hysterical laughter, except Seishiro and Nataku, who exchanged an exasperated look behind Fuuma's back.

"Listen, what you get up to on your own time is not my fucking problem," Fuuma said, grinning. "All right, I'll see you all later." The cast broke into chatter and immediately hurried backstage to get out of costume. "Let's go, I don't feel like talking to anyone," Fuuma muttered to Seishiro, who nodded gratefully and got to his feet. "Take care of closing up for me?" he added to Nataku, who nodded, though he could practically feel his resentful glare on the back of his neck as he left the theater with Seishiro. However, he didn't care at that moment, not when he could finally interrogate Seishiro about what he thought of the show.

---

In the dressing room, Arashi was changing out of her costume so quickly and inattentively it wasn't until Yuzuriha offered to help her that she realized half her shirt buttons were in the wrong holes. "Oh," she replied, distractedly, shaking her head and fixing them. "Thank you."

"Are you all right?" Karen asked. "Today's been long already, I know."

"Yes," Arashi agreed, both because she could tell Karen wasn't being condescending and because she had no intention of sharing what was on her mind.

"Act Three is exhausting!" Kanoe said, dramatically, throwing her purse over her shoulder. "I'm going to go home and pass out."

"That sounds amazing right now," Yuzuriha agreed. She and Karen fell into an easy conversation and Arashi just nodded distractedly, desperate to get out of the room but not wanting to arouse suspicion.

Eventually, the four of them left the dressing room together, and in the lobby ran into Sorata, Yuuto and Kusanagi chatting by the bar. The three of them turned and smiled, and Arashi waited until Yuuto and Kanoe were sufficiently distracted by each other before, "Sorata?"

"What's up?" he asked. Kusanagi and Yuzuriha caught each other's eye behind both of their backs.

"Nothing," Arashi said, her eyes wide. "I just, I hope this isn't weird to say, but-"

"You realized something and wanna run it by me?" he asked, kindly, a sudden warmth in his chest. Arashi raised her eyebrows, but she nodded, blushing. "Not weird at all," he assured her. "I love when shit clunks into place on stage. You wanna go grab food in town or something?"

"No no, we can just go back to the dorm, that's okay," she replied, realizing a split second too late the implication and choosing to ignore it.

"Okay, cool," Sorata replied, carefully keeping his tone casual.

"Yuzuriha, you aren't hungry, are you?" asked Kusanagi, suddenly inspired to save her from being third wheeled.

"What? Oh, yeah I could definitely eat!" she cried, latching into the words before she could even think about what they meant.

"I made way too much tomato sauce this morning, you're more than welcome to share," he continued, and as the prospect of sharing a meal one on one with Kusanagi hit her, she experienced almost a head rush.

"That sounds great," she replied, praying she wasn't giving herself away and hating how high pitched her voice sounded.

"Let's go," he said, smiling, and Yuzuriha felt as if she were floating as they left the theater together.

"I want fresh tomato sauce, what the fuck," Sorata said, indignantly. Arashi let out the softest of giggles that made the warmth in Sorata's chest spread outwards. "Anyway, let's go."

They walked back to their dorm side by side in silence, the campus warm and sunny and smelling of fresh cut grass. In the distance, a class from BTI was out working, their shouts and cries carried over on the soft summer breeze.

"I'll make coffee," said Arashi as they entered their kitchen. "Do you want some?"

"Sure!" Sorata had no clue what Arashi wanted to talk about, so he stayed quiet as she fussed with the old and battered coffee maker, trying not to watch her long hair sway about her waist, her back arch gracefully and her ass and thighs in her pants.

---

"How far away is your house?" Yuzuriha asked, her nose pressed up against the passenger window of Kusanagi's truck and stomach twisting in nervous excitement. She still wasn't sure of his intentions, or if she cared. It was their first time hanging out just the two of them and outside of work, she wasn't going to complain.

"Haven't you come over before?" Kusanagi asked, surprised. "I hosted all the cast parties last year."

"No," Yuzuriha replied, regretfully. "I was too busy with all my BTI stuff."

"Ahh right, that timing would have been off." They drove up into the winding, wooded hills, and Yuzuriha bit her lip as Kusanai's bungalow came into view.

"Your house is beautiful!" she exclaimed.

"Thank you," he replied, and even though he'd heard it countless times before, he felt rather touched when it came from her. They parked and headed inside, smelling flowers and warm grass. As the screen door clattered shut behind her, Yuzuriha beamed around at the interior, her heart swelling in her chest. It reminded her of her grandmother's apartment back in New York, all the plush surfaces and dark woods, but it was so clearly Kusanagi, and she loved it.

"You can leave your stuff anywhere," he said, and she deposited her bag on the old, faded couch.

"You didn't build this house, did you?" she asked, joining him in the kitchen where he was putting a pot of water on to boil.

"Oh no," he replied, though he did appreciate the question. "I just renovated it." Yuzuriha grinned and leaned against the counter, her sweaty palms behind her. Kusanagi added salt to the water and tossed some over his left shoulder before pulling the bowl of tomatoes he'd left covered there that morning towards him. "Here," he said, peeling back the cloth. A pungent smell of tomatoes and basil filled the room.

"Oh my god that smells amazing!"

"Try some," Kusanagi said, retrieving a fork from a drawer. He hesitated a moment, then stuck it into the bowl, speared a piece of tomato and held it out to her. Yuzuriha's breath caught in her chest and her eyes darted back and forth between the fork and Kusanagi's face. Something shifted in his expression, but he kept the fork where it was, letting her decide what to do. He'd meant all of this completely innocently, but his heart began to beat faster anyway. Yuzuriha placed her hand on the back of his, drew it closer and swallowed the forkful.

"Mm!" she exclaimed, her eyes widening as she let go. "That's amazing!" Kusanagi laughed and took a forkful for himself, ignoring her blush.

"Thank you kindly. I grew the tomatoes out back."

"No way!"

"Yes way!" Kusanagi nodded out the window towards his garden. "Hokuto usually steals most of them, but my plants have been bearing really well this year."

"That's so cool!" Yuzuriha said earnestly, and warmth flooded Kusanagi's chest. "I'm terrible at growing things." Kusanagi tried to dissuade her, but she just stared back at him incredulously. "No seriously, plants get suicidal around me!"

"Ha! You sure it's not just you being in New York?"

"No way! People grow shit on their fire escapes and stuff," she scoffed. "But seriously, is that what tomatoes are supposed to taste like?! My mind is blown!" Again, Kusanagi laughted and Yuzuriha's heart swelled in her chest. It was better than she could have hoped for, being in Kusanagi's home, eating his food and making him laugh.

Behind them, the water on the stove began to boil.

---

"So what's up?" Sorata asked, blowing on his coffee and taking a sip. He and Arashi were out on their dorm's porch, sitting around the old wicker table. They could hear birds singing, insects humming and woodchucks scurrying about under the house. Arashi curled her legs up under her and held her mug in both hands.

"That line about no one knowing anything about relationships," Arashi began, without preamble. "When you read about love in novels or see it on TV it seems so simple, but then you actually fall in love and realize no one knows anything about relationships at all and we're all just making shit up as we go along." Sorata nodded. Arashi swallowed. "That's, that's true, isn't it?" she asked, almost cautiously. It was strange to be this forthcoming, but for some reason it was exciting rather than nerve wracking.

"What, that no one knows shit?" Sorata asked, completely seriously.

"Well…?" Sorata took a sip of coffee.

"I mean, I don't disagree," he said, remembering his and Fuuma's conversation a million years ago. "But I'm also not the best person to ask." Arashi sipped coffee and gazed at him over the rim of her cup, her wide eyes catching the light beautifully. "I grew up with my grandfather and I've never seen my parents together, they split up when I was really little, shit was fucked up."

"Oh," replied Arashi, her eyes softening concernedly.

"Nah don't worry about it, it was for the best, trust me," he assured her, and though he didn't usually like sympathy, he appreciated it from her. "But yeah, I had no example growing up except for movies and books and stuff, then my friends and all their," he paused and waved his hand around as though batting away midges. Arashi giggled against her cup. "Yeah so 'no one knows shit' makes sense to me, if that helps?"

"It does, I think," she replied with another giggle, and as she sipped more coffee she realized it was true. Maybe she hadn't been doing things wrong for years, maybe all the things she'd been criticized for her whole life weren't actually that bad? Dare she hope? "What we see in media's also so limited," she continued, bravely.

"Yeah for sure," Sorata said, eagerly, picking up the new thread at once. "And if you don't identify with them or they just don't make sense it's really painful." Arashi nodded vigorously. "In retrospect it seems mad obvious," he pressed on. "If you don't identify with the same story you're shown day in and day out, it might not actually be your fault, but," he broke off, shrugging.

"I wish I'd heard that in high school," Arashi said, a sudden bitterness in her voice. "That wasn't really what I meant, though."

"No?"

"No." Arashi took another sip of coffee. "It actually… I felt better for saying all of that."

"How so?" Sorata asked, leaning closer. She blushed again as she looked into his eager face, his eyes wide and clear in the soft evening light. She knew the look, she'd seen it whenever they'd been on stage together.

"Well," she began, doing her utmost to stay focused. "Just that, when you realize that everyone else is just as clueless as you are. It just made me feel less… I'm not sure, less-"

"Fucked up?" Sorata offered. Arashi burst into laughter, and Sorata joined in, a sudden heat rushing up between them.

"Does that make sense?" she asked, hesitantly, through her giggles.

"Yeah!" Sorata replied, totally unabashed. He understood completely, or at least as completely as he was able, where she was coming from. He was also thrilled to see her this forthcoming and comfortable.

"I've never," Arashi started to say, but then stopped abruptly. She shifted in her seat and drank more coffee. Sorata's breath caught in his chest, but he said nothing. "I don't really have an example either," she said instead, changing tact. "I grew up with my aunt, and she was never married. Then I went to this really old fashioned private school." She looked at Sorata curiously to see how he'd take this, whether he'd be put off or intrigued or want to fix her. However, all he said as,

"So you get it."

"I suppose so," she replied, appreciatively. "I had a hard time understanding where Maudie was coming from, getting married so young and then actually falling in love with someone, but… It seems like I keep finding more things we have in common."

"Makes sense to me," Sorata said with yet another encouraging smile. "I could feel it." Arashi's blush deepened, but she held his gaze determinedly.

"Was it helpful?" she asked, quietly. She had a fleeting memory of kissing him without being given the direction, of the chemistry and intensity that had followed. She felt so connected to him on stage, even though he never instigated anything. He'd just let her be.

Sorata could feel something shifting, and he was aware of his stomach twisting in a confused mix of feelings he wasn't sure were his own or Arashi's. "Very much so," he replied, just as quietly. Arashi let out a soft cry, relief and excitement and all other unnamable things suddenly rushing out through her body as though bursting a dam in her chest.

"It also makes me less, I don't know." She didn't want to say freaked out, even though that was the best way she knew to describe it. She stared Sorata hard in the face, hoping he'd supply the word. However, he wasn't sure what she was getting at and didn't want to be presumptuous. He finished his coffee and set the mug down on the old wicker table, then offered a few options.

"Confused?" Arashi swallowed. "Worried?" Arashi's blush deepened still further and she nodded.

"About this."

"About… You mean the show?"

"No! Well, I suppose in part, but I meant," she gestured back and forth, stirring the space between them.

"How do you mean?" Sorata asked. Arashi felt her stomach disappear and goosebumps rose up and down her arms despite the warm day. However, she held Sorata's gaze steady.

"Just that, if no one knows anything anyway, then, is it so wrong?" she asked, in just above a whisper.

"I dunno," Sorata replied, his voice also lowering. He wished more than anything that he had a better answer for her, but he was still unsure of her implication and, in any case, he was suddenly way too distracted by her eyes, by the pale skin of her chest visible through the few undone buttons of her shirt, by doing his utmost not to look down.

"Sorata," she said, quietly, and he shivered as she said his name. "I…"

"It's all right," he said, his entire being focused on Arashi. "Whatever's going on, or you're feeling, or…" Arashi bit back the softest of longing moans, but his words and his smile were finally enough. She took his hand, and before he could stop and think, he kissed her knuckles, so much smaller and smoother than his own. Arashi's belly pulled in and up and she bit back another moan. Sorata got to his feet, still holding tight to her hand, and she followed, moving in closer, heat and nerves and excitement rushing up between them.

"I… Is this okay?" she whispered. It was like on stage, but so many times more intense. Her body was hot all over in anticipation, but instead of Maudie's feverish energy it was her own, softer and quieter desperation.

"Mmhmm," Sorata breathed, warmth flooding his chest and belly. He was already getting hard. He leaned in closer, inviting but still just out of reach.

"Mm," she echoed, before finally kissing him on the lips. It only lasted a second, but a shiver ran through both of them and the space between them throbbed as they broke apart. Arashi's chest heaved and heat rushed between her legs as she squeezed Sorata's hand almost painfully tight. "It's okay, right?" she breathed.

"Yeah," he whispered. He felt dizzy with desire for her, but he had to keep himself in check, let her come to him, not just kiss her with all the passion coming to a boil inside him. "It's okay." Arashi moaned softly and kissed him hard on the lips again, letting go of his hand to wrap both arms around his neck. Sorata groaned into the kiss, holding tight to her waist with one hand and entwining the other in her hair.

Arashi melted against him, every sensation electric. She half expected him to pick her up as usual before it occurred to her they weren't on stage, they were themselves, and she would experience Sorata, and he'd be with her, Arashi. It was both intoxicating and terrifying.

"Is this okay?" Sorata asked, dragging his hand down her back to grip her ass, and Arashi arched into the touch.

"Yes…" Sorata gasped and gave her another sound kiss on the lips, breathing hard through his nose and relishing the feel of her for a few more glorious seconds. He pulled out of their kiss and rested his forehead gently against hers.

"No pressure, but," he swallowed. "You wanna go upstairs?" The words seized Arashi's body in a vice grip, fogging her brain and searing her nerves. She closed her eyes and leaned her head back, then, when she was able to think more clearly,

"Yes…" Sorata nodded and kissed her on the forehead before pulling away reluctantly. Arashi's eyes darted immediately to his erection, pressing out against his slim fitting jeans at a weird angle. She swallowed, a need deeper than any of her lust or confused feelings rising up from inside her. She bit her lip, took his hand and led him back inside. Downstairs was still empty, but they both blushed and looked away from each other as they snuck upstairs, the creaking of the old wood simultaneously exciting and terrifying. At the top of the stairs, Arashi paused, but,

"Let's go to my room," Sorata said, quietly, climbing the last few stairs to stand behind her. With his free hand, he brushed her hair away from the back of her neck and kissed the soft, smooth skin there. The kiss radiated out through Arashi's body in a deeply pleasurable wave, squeezing her chest, her belly, her inner walls. Sorata breathed in deeply, smelling her hair and doing his utmost not to bite down on her neck, ear or shoulder before she squeezed his hand and pulled him into his bedroom. It was warm and bright, and his unmade bed was covered in pillows and soft blankets. The door fell shut, and Arashi whirled around to face Sorata again. He smiled a hesitant smile, though his eyes blazed with desire as they caught the light filtering in through the windows.

"You wanna lie down?" he asked, after a moment. Arashi blushed, but did so, brushing her hair out of her eyes.

Sorata surveyed her for a moment, laid out before him, legs spreading slowly, chest rising and falling, shimmering dark hair and pale skin. He took a deep breath in and sighed it out, venting some of his need before slowly coming to lie down on top of her. Arashi gasped softly, his warm weight simultaneously comforting and arousing. "This okay?" Sorata asked, and Arashi took hold of the sides of his face before coaxing him into a deep kiss. He gently pressed his tongue into her mouth, and she melted into the bed, wrapping her arms around his neck and squeezing his hips with her thighs.

Sorata groaned low in his throat and kissed her deeper still. The pressure around his waist and between his legs was deliciously teasing and he loved it. He began to grind his hips up against her, relishing the heat building in the quiet sensuality. He moved his kisses to her neck, breathing deeply against her skin and hair.

Arashi swallowed a soft cry, shut her eyes tight and held onto him tighter. She had expected him to be like on stage: intense and passionate and hard, and whether he was nervous or holding back or actually like this or what, it didn't matter, because the gentle kisses on her neck and thrusting of his hips made her inner walls throb with longing. Gathering her courage, she wrapped one leg around his waist, pulling him even closer.

"Oh fuck," Sorata moaned softly in her ear, and they shared a delicious shiver of arousal. His need gave her such a rush, and she leaned her head to the side, giving him more of her neck to explore. "Oh fuck," he breathed again, disentangling his hand from her hair to drag it up her thigh, her waist, to finally cup her breast through her shirt.

"Oh," Arashi moaned, softly, arching up into the warmth and the pressure.

"Good?"

"Mmhmm…" Sorata nodded, squeezing her ever so gently before beginning to undo the buttons on her shirt. His hand shook slightly and he kissed her neck more insistently, licking and sucking but nowhere near hard enough to leave marks. Once he had all the buttons undone he pulled away, wanting to see, but was immediately distracted by her face, by her flush, her parted lips, her needy, lustful expression and her hair pooling softly around her. An intense wave of arousal rose up inside Sorata and crashed outwards through his body, searing his nerves and making his erection throb. "What?" Arashi asked, rather breathlessly.

"You're beautiful," Sorata replied, simply, managing a smile when he'd recovered himself. Arashi flushed deeper and her chest constricted, suddenly and painfully, around her throbbing heart. She'd heard it plenty of times before, in this context and in others, and though she knew it to be true in some unbiased part of her brain, when Sorata said it, and with that look on his face…

"Do you," she started to say, though she had no idea where she was going with the question. She swallowed. "Do you feel good?" She asked, lamely, the tightness in her chest moving up to her throat. Sorata nodded vigorously.

"I feel amazing," he assured her. "Do you?" Arashi flushed more deeply still as her inner walls throbbed and her belly pulled in and up in answer.

"Yes," she replied, breathlessly.

"You okay to keep going?" Sorata asked, his expression close to desperate. Arashi shivered, wondering exactly what he meant but wanting more too badly to care.

"Yes." Sorata exhaled gratefully and was back to kissing her neck, dragging his hands up her belly and pressing them up under her bra. Arashi moaned and arched up into the touch, into the kiss. His hands were warm and soft against her nipples, now gloriously hard in her arousal, making her stomach twist and her inner walls spasm pleadingly. Sorata felt dizzy, so caught up in the feel of her, wanting more than anything to undress her and explore her fully with his hands, lips and tongue. He thrust his hips softly up against her, looking desperately for more stimulation as he cupped her breasts with both hands and rubbed his thumbs in teasing circles against her nipples. Arashi gave a soft cry and Sorata pulled away to kiss her hard on the mouth again. Arashi moaned gratefully and seized the sides of his face to pull him closer, thrusting her hips up against him and groaning low in her throat as she found the best angle.

"Oh fuck," Sorata gasped, between kisses, grinding back against her, pleasure radiating out through his body, twisting his stomach and squeezing his heart. "That's-" He shuddered, but managed to look her in the face. "You feel so good," he told her in a constricted voice, his whole body shivering. Arashi gasped, feeling the shiver in her own body, radiating out from his hands still holding her breasts so reverently.

"Really?" she asked, before she could stop herself. Sorata's heart squeezed and his gaze softened as he nodded. He leaned in closer, withdrawing his hands from under her bra to wrap around her. Arashi shivered, both at the sensation and the sudden tenderness. Suddenly she wanted to explore him too, touch him all over, keep going.

She wrapped her arms tight around him and cautiously pressed her hands up the back of his shirt. Sorata closed his eyes in a soft gasp as the touch rushed out through his body like an electric charge. Arashi's eyes widened, but then Sorata kissed her hard on the mouth and rolled them over onto their sides so they faced each other, tangled up in their arms and legs. He tenderly held the sides of her face and rested his forehead against hers.

"I could kiss you forever," he groaned, truthfully, heat creeping up his neck and flooding his face. Arashi's breath caught in her chest.

"I, likewise," she said, eventually, also blushing. Sorata smiled. "But, um," she allowed her gaze to travel down his body to fix longingly upon his erection. Sorata followed and his blush deepened.

"Yeah, I," he began, almost apologetically, but then Arashi pressed her hand between his legs and anything he might have said dissolved in a needy, strangled cry.

"Is that all right?" she asked at once, knowing more of that deep, visceral excitement at how hard he was.

"Yeah," Sorata replied, breathlessly. However, before she could really begin exploring, Sorata reached forward and carefully teased the button of her pants with his first two fingers. "Can I-"

"Yes!" Arashi cried at once, her entire body begging for it. She squeezed Sorata's erection through his jeans and he moaned and kissed her deeply again. Arashi groaned softly too, feeling so alive with anticipation as she kissed him back, as he slowly and carefully began to undo her pants and slip his hand inside.

"Oh god," Sorata moaned, a sudden spasm of arousal gripping and releasing his body as he felt how hot and wet she was. Arashi closed her eyes and threw her head back in a soft, needy cry, her face glowing at the intimate touch. "Oh god," Sorata said again, kissing her soulfully as he rubbed his fingers against her, teasing and exploring, spreading her apart but not pressing inside yet. Arashi's stomach pulled in and up and her clit pulsed, begging to be touched. Her thighs shook slightly as she rubbed him through his pants, but then, "Don't worry about me," Sorata told her, pulling out of their kiss to rub his nose tenderly against hers.

"W-what?" she asked, dazedly, still distracted by his fingers. Sorata smiled, his heart and erection both throbbing.

"Don't worry about me," he said again, looking her very seriously in the face. "Just let me take care of you." Arashi shivered. In some mistrustful part of her brain, it might have occurred to her to doubt his words, but as she looked into his face, his lips parted and eyes shining with sincerity, she couldn't even begin to muster the energy to contradict him. Instead, she just asked,

"How?" and blushed furiously. Sorata took a deep breath in and sighed it out, debating for a moment even though he'd known from the start at least one thing he wanted.

"Can I use my mouth?" he asked, in just above a whisper. Arashi's inner walls throbbed almost painfully as her entire body shuddered in arousal.

"Are you sure?" she asked, when she found her voice. In answer Sorata just moaned and kissed her soundly, moving his fingers a little faster, loving the way she pulsed against them.

"I wanna please you so bad," he breathed, between kisses. Arashi's mind was spinning, and though that small, suspicious part of her brain was still trying to interject,

"You can," she whispered, blushing.

"You sure?" he asked, his voice heavy with need. She nodded, rocking her hips gently against his fingers. Sorata groaned gratefully and kissed her again, carefully taking his fingers away. She moaned, missing the touch already, but then immediately brought her hands to the waistband of her pants and slid them down. Her underwear was plain, not that it mattered because she didn't own anything fancier, but before she could think too much about that, Sorata pulled her pants the rest of the way off and placed them carefully on the bed beside her. His eyes widened as she shifted her hips and allowed her legs to fall open. She shivered, both from the cool air on her hot, wet skin and Sorata's expression, as though he'd never seen anything more enthralling in his life.

Sorata felt a powerful swell of emotion and desire rise up in his belly and chest, then crash out through his body. His eyes fixed between her legs and he licked his lips subconsciously, his heart and erection both aching. "You're beautiful," he told her softly, and though he was thinking longingly of her completely naked, of them gloriously wrapped up in each other, he stayed focused, leaning forward to kiss her slowly and reverently on the lips instead. Arashi moaned hard into the kiss, fueling their arousal. "Ready?" Sorata breathed against her lips.

"Mmhmm…" Sorata swallowed another groan and kissed all the way down her neck, chest, belly and thighs, finally settling between her legs. He took a deep breath in and sighed it out as he tenderly spread her apart with his thumbs. "Oh god," she whispered, pulsing at further exposure, but then his mouth was on her and she knew only a tidal wave of pleasure as it rose up and crashed over her. Her toes curled and her thighs seized up, but then Sorata took his mouth away. She couldn't hold back her cry as she looked down at him in disbelief.

"Good?" he asked.

"Yes!" she cried, unable to hide her frustration. Sorata smiled and was right back for more, heartened and aroused by her enthusiasm. He repeated the move, drawing the tip of his tongue up her slit before carefully exploring further. He moaned softly as he tasted her, as her hot, full labia twitched against his tongue. Arashi bit back a moan of her own, gripping hard on the bed sheets. It was all so simple and so soft, but it was enough to make her head spin. He dragged his tongue upwards and paused to circle her clit without touching it, and her entire body seized up, so honed in on the pleasure that was just out of reach, and then he took his tongue away again. Arashi let out another cry, the tension in her body tautening and her inner walls throbbing in frustration. She looked down at Sorata again, her eyes wide and disbelieving.

Sorata met her gaze, a deep flush in his face, and smiled. He moved his thumbs almost playfully against her, and she shifted her hips forward and back and side to side, desperate for more and totally confused why he was teasing her so badly and unsure if she liked it or not. However, she did know she wanted more, that was painfully obvious. She reached out and threaded her fingers through his hair, gently urging him closer. Sorata gasped, but his smile widened and he dove back in, lovingly exploring with his tongue for a moment before finally taking her labia between his lips. He closed his eyes and gently began to suck. Arashi cried out hard and held tight to Sorata's hair, leaning her head back and arching up into the sensation, adoring the gentle pull contrasting with how gentle his lips and tongue felt.

Sorata closed his eyes, feeling the tug at his hair hot down his spine. He let go, then repeated the move on the other side, relishing her taste as he swallowed. He sucked her a moment longer, then pulled away again to look her in the face. A violent shiver ran through his entire body as they locked eyes, from how beautiful she looked, how badly he wanted her pleasure and how arousing he found it all. He hesitated a fraction of a second, then carefully took hold of her thighs and eased them over his shoulders. Arashi cried out in surprise and blushed as her lower back curled upwards, leaving her open and ready and receptive. "Still okay?" Sorata asked, and the desperate need in his voice made Arashi's toes curl.

"Mmhmm," she replied, not trusting herself to find words. Sorata nodded and, with a grateful sigh, dove forward and thrust his tongue inside her. Arashi couldn't hold back her cry; his tongue was so deep and curved at a truly glorious angle, but he was still soft, still reverent, and it was intoxicating. Arashi's thighs began to shake against his shoulders and she moaned fluently, both hands in Sorata's hair, urging him deeper. It all felt so good, but just when she started to wonder if he'd try and make her come this way, he pulled out. She stared down at him, her hands still in his hair, but he just smiled reassuringly and leaned forward to finally wrap his lips around her clit. "Oh GOD!" Arashi moaned, unable to keep her voice down.

Her toes curled and her thighs shook violently. All the easy, soft heat and pleasure that had built so slowly and deliciously had now condensed into a white hot, desperate pressure. She couldn't think, she couldn't move, the sensations had her in such a tight grip. All she could do was moan, shiver and ride the waves of pleasure as they rose and crashed through her body.

Sorata felt the shift immediately and loved it. He dug his fingers into her thighs, his head swimming in a contact high from her pleasure, his own toes curling as he swirled his tongue around her clit faster and sucked even harder.

Intensely and unexpectedly, Arashi realized how close she was and her face burned and contorted with pleasure. She wanted to tell him, but her mind was spinning too fast and she seemed to have lost control of her voice, until-

"OH!" Arashi came suddenly, taking both of them by surprise, the pressure inside her releasing gloriously out through her body in intense, pleasurable shockwaves. Her clit pulsed almost painfully hard in Sorata's mouth and her inner walls throbbed as she shuddered and gasped, continually gripped and released by pleasure.

Sorata moaned appreciatively and pleased her through it until at last he felt her begin to relax. He pulled away, breathing hard through his open mouth for a moment before placing a gentle kiss on her pubic bone. He then sat up, allowing her thighs to fall gracefully onto the bed, and let out another soft moan of longing. She looked amazing, totally blissed out and spent, and a warmth spread throughout his body, almost like gratitude at being able to make her feel that good. He let her rest and recover until she opened her eyes blearily and smiled at up at him. "Come here," she breathed, and Sorata slid up her body so they were nose to nose. He hesitated, but then Arashi summoned all the strength in her body to wrap her arms around him and kiss him deeply on the lips. Sorata let out the smallest of throaty moans and kissed her deeper, the sensation jumpstarting his own arousal, reminding him of how desperate he was.

Arashi shivered as she held him close, her body empty of all except warm, satisfied space. She kissed him slowly but deeply, feeling satisfied as she hadn't been in a long time. She could still taste on herself on his lips and tongue that had pleased her so eagerly, and it was erotic. However, the longer they kissed, the more aware she became of how hard he still was, of how he was grinding gently up against her. She wanted to say something, but she couldn't bear to break their kiss. Eventually, Sorata did pull away, but remained nose to nose with her, the space between them warm and slow.

"Hey," he said, quietly, smiling.

"That was incredible," Arashi breathed, smiling a rather stunned smile back. Sorata flushed with pleasure and kissed her on the lips.

"Good." Arashi let out the smallest of playful giggles and stroked his hair.

"You're still…" She shifted against him, teasing his erection. Sorata closed his eyes and leaned his head back in a soft gasp that made Arashi shiver.

"I know," he replied, feeling the sensation all through his body. "No pressure, but-"

"Let me," she interrupted, the need in his voice killing her.

"What do you wanna do?" he asked, his entire body immediately on edge. Arashi's breath caught in her chest as she considered this. She was positive anything would feel good and that he'd be happy whatever her choice. She swallowed, staring him hard in the face as she bravely wrapped one leg around his waist. Sorata exhaled slowly, his eyes glazing over as he understood.

"Inside," she breathed, "please?" Sorata nodded and kissed her hard on the lips,his hands suddenly everywhere: her thighs, her waist, her belly and up under her shirt. Arashi moaned and arched up into his hands, her inner walls already throbbing hopefully again.

"You have condoms?" Sorata breathed. Arashi flushed, but shook her head. "Fuck, me neither," Sorata replied, cursing this oversight. He pulled away with a sigh, fully prepared to spring to the nearest drugstore, but then, "Wait hold up, I can borrow some from Kamui, give me one second." Arashi's flush deepened, but she nodded.

Sorata gave her one last kiss and got to his feet, swaying slightly as all the blood that might have been in his head was in his erection. He looked down, blushing as he adjusted it, trying and failing to make it less obvious. Arashi pressed her fingers to her mouth, suppressing another soft laugh. Sorata smiled in an "it can't be helped" sort of way and backed out of the room. Arashi sat up, wrapped her arms around her bent knees and rested her chin upon them. As she shifted against the blankets and felt her own smooth skin, she became truly aware for the first time of being undressed from the waist down. She wondered briefly if that was weird, but then heard the knock on Kamui's door.

"What?" came Kamui's voice, grumpily.

"It's Sorata, can I come in for a second?"

"Yeah, what the fuck do you want?" Arashi's senses seemed to sharpen and she listened as hard as she could. The door creaked open. "What?"

"You have condoms I can use?"

"The fuck…?" Arashi's face burned. "You don't need protection from your hand."

"Can I have some or no?"

"Yeah, all I've got's the numbing kind though."

"I could have lived a happier life not knowing that."

"I'm joking, relax." A drawer scraped open.

"Hmm?" Subaru's very sleepy voice.

"Go back to sleep, it's cool," Kamui said, soothingly.

"Mmmhmm…"

"Here, now get the fuck out of my room."

"Thanks," Sorata said, grudgingly, before hurrying back into his own room. He faced Arashi, but as the door fell closed behind him he was instantly aware that something had changed. "Hey," he said, softly, eyes full of concern as he hurried to the bed to sit beside her. "What happened, are you okay?" His heart was pounding.

Arashi's throat burned at his concern and her stomach gave an anxious lurch. She hugged her knees tighter, having no idea how to answer him and hating herself for it. All she knew was the moment the tension had broken, the moment she'd heard a castmate's voice, their secluded, pleasurable bubble had burst, and reality stung her. She'd hooked up with one of her castmates, and people would find out and talk. "Tasteless" was her aunt's word. Arashi hated gossip.

"Arashi's a quiet girl, she keeps to herself too much," her aunt would say to her friends and teachers, whether Arashi was there or not. And yet here she was, shattering her rule about staying out of cast drama into pieces.

"Arashi?" Sorata asked, making her jump. Her throat burned again and she couldn't look at Sorata. It had all felt so good in the moment, but now she was away from her confused mess of feelings for him and back where people thought they had a stake in her life and threw their opinions around like it was nothing. "Did I do something wrong?" Sorata asked, terrified. She shook her head, her throat burning. "Are you sure?" She nodded and forced herself to look at him.

"You're fine, I just," but she broke off, an unpleasant heat in her chest, neck and face. Sorata hesitated a moment, then placed his hand on her upper back. She shuddered and pressed her fingertips to her mouth, the simple, supportive gesture seeming to unlock her.

"You don't have to explain, it's okay," he told her, quietly, rubbing gentle circles on her back. "But can you tell me if you want space? Obviously it's fine if you do, I'll-"

"Stay?" Arashi asked, in a small voice. "Or, let me stay?" she amended, remembering she was in his room.

"Of course!" He looked cautiously relieved and wrapped his arm around her shoulders. Still curled around herself, Arashi leaned against his chest, allowing him to pull her closer. He felt so good, so grounding and stable, so unlike the feverish passion they shared together on stage, and she had no idea which was real or which she liked better or what any of this even was or what people would say. The force of it all was welled up inside her, but she wouldn't cry, she wouldn't.

Sorata felt totally blindsided by her distress and wanted more than anything to help her feel better, but had no idea what to do aside from stick by her. He had the sense that she had been forced to handle herself and her feelings completely on her own for a long time, though whether that was by choice or due to other people's neglect was harder to figure out. Regardless, his heart ached for her.

"I'm sorry," Arashi said, eventually.

"Huh? What for?"

"For stopping like that," she replied, when she'd gathered her courage.

"What?" Sorata asked, bemusedly. "Come on, you never have to apologize for that." A lump rose up in Arashi's throat, but she swallowed it determinedly.

"I, but still, you-"

"I'll live," Sorata assured her. He was positive that wasn't actually what was bothering her, but as always, the last thing he wanted was to pressure her. "I'm tougher than I look," he continued, smiling. Arashi let out a rather miserable giggle, her stomach still squirming guiltily. "Surprising, I know, but-"

"No," Arashi interrupted. "Not surprising." She tucked her hair behind her ears, and another moment's silence passed.

"Do you wanna get dressed?" Sorata asked, kindly. Arashi nodded.

"What time is it?" she asked, pulling away from Sorata regretfully.

"Uh…" He looked over his shoulder at the old alarm clock on his nightstand. "Just after five, we got time." Arashi nodded again. She wanted to stay with Sorata, but she didn't want people to see her coming out of his room or the two of them arriving late like Subaru and Kamui. They were so blatant about it, and everyone talked.

"I'm going to go shower," she said, very quietly, getting to her feet. She kept her back to Sorata as she pulled her pants and underwear back on. Sorata just watched her sadly, his heart aching as her hair fell gracefully around her. "Um, don't take this the wrong way," Arashi said, turning around to face him again, her hands combing nervously through her hair. "But don't tell anyone?" It hurt her to say it, but she had to. She bit her lip, watching anxiously for his reaction. However, he looked more surprised than anything.

"I wasn't gonna," he said, as though it were obvious. Was that what this was about? "Who else needs to know?" Arashi had no answer, though gratitude filled her stomach, finally making it stop twisting.

"No one," she agreed, eventually. "Well, I'll, I'll see you later, I guess." Sorata nodded, his heart aching worse than ever, and Arashi left the room, closing the door quietly behind her.

Sorata fell back against his pillows, sighing as he stared up at his ceiling. He'd hooked up with castmates before (hadn't everyone?) but this was different. Unfortunately, he had no idea why. Were these just feelings from on stage boiling over because of Arashi's epiphany today? Or had these feelings actually been there the whole time, and they'd just been in denial?

He sighed and stretched. He could still smell her hair on his sheets.

---

"I'm gonna make coffee, if you guys want some," said Karen.

"That'd be great, thank you!" Keiichi replied, smiling warmly at her. They were relaxing on the back porch of Karen and Kakyo's dorm with leftovers for dinner. Karen had invited Keiichi over when she saw Subaru and Kamui, plus Sorata and Arashi, heading back to their dorm in twos. "Thank you," he'd said, gratefully, then, "she figured something out." Karen had nodded in fond agreement.

"Do you want coffee, Kakyo?" Karen asked, ruffling Keiichi's hair as she passed.

"Yes please," he replied, actually smiling at her as she headed into the kitchen.

"So how do you like your first tech week?" Keiichi asked, warmly. "Holding up all right?"

"It's not as bad as I thought it'd be," Kakyo replied, though of course he'd had no idea what to expect, never having done it before and only having his castmates' complaining to go on. "I guess repeating the same thing over and over gets tedious, but I don't really mind."

"This isn't that dynamic a show," Keiichi said, nodding in agreement.

"Dynamic?"

"Mmhmm, like, there's not tons of set changes and movement and stuff," Keiichi explained, enthusiastically. Even after being around him for weeks, Kakyo still found Keiichi's energy a little overwhelming. He wished Hokuto were there.

"I don't think I've ever seen a show like that," he said, shifting in his wicker chair and staring over towards the costume warehouse.

"Get Hokuto to take you after we get done here," replied Keiichi. "She'll show you something good, I'm positive!" Kakyo blushed.

"She's done more than enough for me already," he muttered, rather guiltily. However, even as he said it, he imagined being in the city with Hokuto, picking her up and going to see more theater, maybe even with dinner first… It was the first time he'd actually thought about his return to New York at the end of the summer in a positive light, or at least not as the cataclysmic end he'd been imagining. As he very hesitantly felt heartened by this, he remembered one of the first times they'd met up in person. She'd picked him up outside his building after dark, because he'd been too embarrassed to let her upstairs.

"Nice place!" she said, appreciatively, grinning. Kakyo just shrugged. He'd inherited the apartment from his mother's older sister, though he hardly felt he belonged there, especially considering how badly he treated it. "I love when people only wanna talk to you right before they die," Hokuto had said when he'd told her the story, and he hadn't been able to resist laughing. It felt like his first happy feeling in what might have been weeks.

"Are you hungry?" Hokuto asked, tilting her head to the side. She was dressed way too extravagantly just to see him, and he felt guilty that she'd gone out of her way.

"No," he replied, grateful he'd managed to at least dig up a clean shirt from somewhere.

"Well, I made cookies this morning if you change your mind," she said, patting her purse. "Anyway, let's go this way, I haven't been to Carl Shurz Park in forever!" They headed east towards Lexington Avenue, Hokuto's skin moon bright even in the orange streetlights. They always met up at night, because going out during the day was too much at first. Kakyo felt terrible about his schedule being opposite to normal people's, particularly when Hokuto was visibly tired when she came to see him. "Don't worry about it," she'd always assure him. "As long as I keep going it's okay. It's when I stop that I feel how tired I am." Kakyo had been struck by the words. Hadn't he stopped months ago and been exhausted ever since?

"Is it that simple?" he asked. Hokuto smiled kindly.

"For me. For you it's more complicated, but that's all right." That had also been the first time he'd noticed how green her eyes were.

"I guess she wouldn't mind, though," Kakyo told Keiichi, hesitantly, his heart speeding up.

"For sure!" Keiichi said, encouragingly, clapping Kakyo on the shoulder. Kakyo didn't shrug him away, his mind still full of Hokuto, of her smile and her energy.

"Here," Karen said, the floorboards creaking as she reappeared with two mugs of coffee.

"You're the best!" Keiichi exclaimed, taking one from her and blowing on it.

"Thank you," Kakyo said, quietly, taking the other. Karen smiled and went back inside for her own mug. Kakyo watched her go, reflecting that her smile, while beautiful, didn't affect him the same way as Hokuto's, even on stage, and that while he appreciated the care she showed him, he didn't feel it as deeply. Transeau was in love with Irene, though, wasn't he?

"Someone you actually care about. Hokuto."

Kakyo took a sharp breath in as Fuuma's words from what felt like a million years ago came back to him, loud and clear but confusing as ever. Was that what he'd meant? Now those feelings that always rose up inside him watching Sorata and Arashi kiss on stage were back in full force, confusing and powerful and overwhelming.

'Is it that simple?' he thought, simultaneously heartened and terrified. Fortunately, at that moment Karen returned and he refocused his attention to her, their coffee and the conversation.

"What do you think they're working on?" she asked, sitting down and gazing over at a cluster BTI students working in the distance.

"Hard to say," Keiichi replied, squinting over. "It brings me back, though!"

"You did a few summers up here, right?" Karen asked, sipping coffee.

"Yup!" Keiichi replied, his chest swelling. "I'd love to teach here someday, once I'm actually experienced enough to do it. That'd make me really happy."

"And it'd make your father proud too, I'm sure," Karen said, and Keiichi gave her a glowing smile. Kakyo doubted any of his own family would care that he was up here or what he was doing, but then reflected that he'd never been able to make them proud anyway, so why would this be different? However, this wasn't as sad a thought as it might have been as his mind jumped right back to Hokuto. If he wanted to make anyone proud, it was her. What was more, he actually could make her proud, couldn't he? Hadn't he been earning her praise all summer?

"Oh no, my parents have no idea what I do, it's been way too long since I've seen them," Karen told Keiichi in answer to a question Kakyo hadn't heard. However, at her words he felt his attention sharpen while Keiichi looked suddenly horrified.

"I'm sorry! I didn't-"

"No no, it's nothing to apologize for," Karen interrupted, waving the words aside. "It is what it is, don't worry about it." Keiichi nodded and drank more coffee, still looking rather awkward. However, Karen reflected that it was actually sort of true. It wasn't as though her story was unique: many people came into this line of work from fucked up backgrounds, most worse than hers. She could remember being much younger, thinking she was being strong and helping herself and recovering by not talking, by suppressing memories and ignoring feelings while losing herself in her roles.

"You're so closed off," a castmate had said, shortly after her nineteenth birthday.

'Better that than talking constantly about your damage without actually saying anything,' Karen thought, spitefully. However, it had made her stomach clench painfully and she hadn't had the courage to reply. In time, though, with the right roles and the right people and the right distance, she had started talking, though that specific interaction had never really left her. She didn't ever want to talk without saying anything, and in any case she didn't feel her story was one to be held up as an example of recovery and moving on to greater things. However, not talking as a choice, rather than because she just couldn't, felt much better. She gave Keiichi another reassuring smile and ruffled his hair again.

"You should do that on stage," he said, playfully. "Every time Jepsen starts acting up." Karen raised her eyebrows while Kakyo suppressed a laugh.

"Jepsen would probably get off on it, I don't think that's a good idea."

"Ah, that is a good point," Keiichi replied, and Kakyo swallowed another laugh in a sip of coffee.

"I mean, suggest it to Fuuma anyway, he might like it," Karen said, fairly. Keiichi's eyes widened and he held his hands up in front of him as though surrendering.

"Oh no, I'm not risking him deciding to change everything to accommodate it!" Both Karen and Kakyo burst into laughter, but Keiichi muttered, "I'm so serious, don't even," into his coffee.

"That's very considerate of you!" Everyone started and turned to find Hokuto on the threshold, grinning broadly and covered head to toe in glitter.

"Why are you all sparkly?" Keiichi asked, looking her up and down.

"Why wouldn't I be sparkly?" Hokuto countered, making them all laugh.

"Fair point!" Keiichi conceded.

"I just got done at the kids' summer camp," Hokuto explained, pulling a chair up to join them. "My other other other gig, helping everybody put finishing touches on their costumes for their show next Saturday." She ran her fingers through her hair, sending glitter everywhere.

"What show were you working on?" Karen asked with great interest. She'd have loved a theater summer camp when she was a kid.

"The Tempest," Hokuto replied, fondly. "The boy playing Ariel is killing it." She brushed more glitter off her arms with an affectionate sigh and Kakyo blushed. He didn't know the play and wasn't sure what she was talking about, but it didn't bother him. He was just pleased to have her there. "But yes, that's why I haven't been around: making sure children and teenagers don't stab themselves with needles or burn themselves with hot glue."

"Hot glue burns aren't so bad, ask cosplayers!" Keiichi interrupted, amid another burst of laughter. Again, Kakyo wasn't sure what they were talking about, but he loved watching Hokuto laugh, loved how her eyes would light up and her hair would bounce about her shoulders.

"So fill me in! How's tech? Scale of one to," Hokuto paused. "Pretending my brother and Kamui aren't banging, how annoying is Fuuma being?" Kakyo sputtered into his coffee, Keiichi looked thoughtful and Karen just smiled and asked,

"Is that annoying? I thought that was just courtesy!" Hokuto snorted.

"Yeah that's not really a good metric," Keiichi added, apologetically. "But Fuuma's been okay. He freaked out about the same lighting cue yesterday and today, but then Seishiro showed up and he got over it." Hokuto snorted again.

"Yeah that tends to happen." She reclined in her chair, staring out over the lawn. "Or it just makes it worse. That's what happened last year."

"I keep hearing about last year's show," Karen said, sitting up a little straighter as though seizing a chance. "Are you allowed to say exactly why it was so awful?" Hokuto let out a sharp burst of laughter.

"Oh please, nobody here signed a damn NDA, you guys can tell, I'm sure." Karen, Keiichi and Kakyo all exchanged looks before staring avidly at Hokuto. "I think it was a bunch of things," she said, adopting a more serious tone despite her obvious pleasure at her audience. "Did any of you actually see In Your Silence?" Keiichi and Karen both nodded.

"I thought it was good," Karen said. "But to hear him talk about it, it was a disaster."

"The show wasn't a disaster," Hokuto agreed. "Like I said, I think it was several things, but the show itself wasn't one of them. It was just easier to say it was, you know how that goes." She ran her fingers through her hair again, shaking more glitter onto the cracked and warped floorboards. "Fuuma got super confident coming off Yoru the season before, but I mean, who wouldn't? That whole production was brilliant."

"I could hardly stand to watch it, to be honest," Karen said. "In a good way, but still."

"It's very that," Hokuto agreed. "Anyway, last summer he tried to do something completely different that was much bigger and looser, and it got away from him a little bit." Karen and Keiichi both nodded and leaned in closer to hear more. "Don't tell anyone I said this, but I think truly? If Seishiro had been there? It would have been fine," Hokuto said, crossing her arms in front of her chest and tilting her head to the side. "I don't know what was going on between them last year so I don't want to make assumptions, but Seishiro was never here, or at least, I hardly ever saw him." She didn't know Seishiro well and had never pretended they were anything more than colleagues. It wasn't enough for her to ask what was going on between him and Fuuma, but it was enough for her to be keen to keep Subaru away her first few years here. Until of course he'd started bringing Fuuma around. "Anyway, something got fucked up somewhere, that much was obvious," she finished. Even though she'd never asked, she couldn't help but feel curious about the ins and outs of Fuuma and Seishiro's relationship: how two fiercely independent (or commitmentphobic, depending on who asked) people stayed in each other's orbit without killing each other. She supposed having the theater in the center of it made it easier, but that was it.

"Seishiro isn't at all how I pictured," Karen said, thoughtfully, sipping coffee.

"Everyone always says that," Hokuto replied, smiling almost fondly. "Especially if they knew Setsuka." Karen nodded, remembering again her first time seeing her on stage, her presence and power. Seishiro had it too, but it was somehow deeper and darker. It hadn't surprised Karen at all that he wasn't a performer.

"Did you guys eat?" Hokuto asked, suddenly stern. Although she was addressing everyone, she was only looking at Kakyo.

"We did," he assured her, smiling, and she reached out and gave his arm a squeeze.

"Cool. I'll try and come visit later, make sure Fuuma and Seishiro are behaving themselves." Everyone laughed, and Hokuto gave Kakyo's arm another squeeze, then trailed her fingertips across his shoulders as she returned to the kitchen. As Kakyo turned to watch her go, Karen and Keiichi started talking resignedly about getting back to work. However, the words missed Kakyo completely; his attention was too focused on Hokuto's hips and how they swayed as she walked.

---

"Thanks again for having me over," Yuzuriha told Kusanagi, smiling at him across the gearshift. She was perched once again in the passenger seat of his truck, a container of pasta and sauce in her lap.

"Anytime," Kusanagi replied, not taking his eyes off the road but returning her smile. Yuzuriha blushed softly and looked down at the container, still warm against her thighs.

"You've seriously spoiled me for tomatoes now," she said. Kusanagi laughed his booming laugh that always made her heart skip.

"You can take some with you next time, you saw I've got tons."

"Oh no, I wouldn't know what to do with them!" Yuzuriha replied in a hurry, her blush deepening. Kusanagi pulled up to a red light on the outskirts of Clow and finally turned to face her, his expression soft. "Well that's not entirely true," Yuzuriha amended, her heart speeding up. "But I'm pretty sure whatever you make would be better. Sorry, is that weird to say?" Kusanagi considered her, knowing full well she wasn't actually talking about tomatoes, and therefore proceeded cautiously.

"You give me too much credit," he replied, quietly. "But you're always welcome to come and try more." Yuzuriha's eyes widened and her breath caught in her chest as the space between them tautened. Did he mean what she thought he meant? No, there was no way, except…

The light changed. Kusanagi broke their gaze to shift gears and drive them into Clow, the main street already livening up as the sun sank lower and lower behind the trees. Yuzuriha stared about, her face burning and a warm glow in her chest, feeling once more like she was floating. It was a beautiful evening, and Kusanagi's music filled the car and his words continued to echo in her ears.

Their whole evening had felt so easy and so good, though of course she'd been unable to stop herself picturing the situation escalating. She imagined leaning into him and kissing up against the counter, or a wall, or even him lifting her into his arms, or, she bit down on the inside of her lip, riding him on his couch as hard as she could, how he'd feel inside and out, his faces and noises. She shook herself and forced her mind back to the present just as she had done before, to the situation in front of her, far away from that other scenario which still felt so heart achingly unattainable.

A car horn sounded right behind them, making them both jump. "Excuse me?" Kusanagi asked, sounding more confused than annoyed as his eyes flitted upward to his rearview mirror. However, he just laughed and waved. Yuzuriha turned around in her seat to see Yuuto and Kanoe waving from the car behind them. She giggled as Kusanagi shifted gears and drove them through the intersection. "So rude," he said, despairingly, guiding the car down the hill, past the brooding Victorian house and finally pulling into BTC's crunchy gravel driveway. As Kusanagi parked his truck, Yuzuriha felt that same twinge of regret that always came with not making at least some kind of move. She tried to assuage the feeling by reminding herself how well everything had gone, but then wondered if she'd always be content with this, what she'd even do if he showed signs of reciprocating, if the "you're always welcome to come try more" had actually been an invitation or a delusional hope. However, she pushed the thoughts away. She didn't need to go there right now. Not before rehearsal.

"I had an awesome time with you today," she told Kusanagi, smiling as Yuuto and Kanoe crunched into the parking spot beside them.

"So did I," Kusanagi replied, giving her a warm smile that she returned, feeling again that insane urge to just lean in and kiss him. Her lips parted, but then her brain caught up with her body.

"I'm gonna go put these in my fridge," she said, her voice quiet all of a sudden as she unbuckled her seatbelt. "But I'll see you in a little bit!"

"You will," Kusanagi agreed, also rather quietly. With that, Yuzuriha opened the door, jumped down from the truck and slammed it shut behind her. Kusanagi took a deep breath in and exhaled slowly as he watched her run towards her dorm, then got out of his truck too, slammed the door and locked it.

"Where were you all afternoon?" Yuuto asked from right behind him. He started and turned to see him and Kanoe apparently waiting for him.

"My house. I had some tomato sauce I wanted to share," Kusanagi replied, warning in his voice. He knew if he were anyone else the pair of them would immediately start needling and gossiping, but they let him be, just as they always did. They'd learned quickly from the first time they'd propositioned him.

"That's sweet!" Kanoe said, and the three of them set off together towards the Igarashi.

Kusanagi looked once more over his shoulder at Yuzuriha's dorm. He wondered if Sorata and Arashi had talked about whatever they'd needed to, if whatever he'd helped Yuzuriha escape had resolved itself or if she'd come home to a warzone. Either way, he did feel that he'd done the right thing. As he entered the lobby, Yuuto and Kanoe's chatter swirling around him, he caught sight of the Macbeth poster and of the director's name. He suddenly remembered Setsuka's funeral, another time he'd removed someone from a volatile situation. He supposed if that was about as deep as he involved himself with the interpersonal drama that went on around here, it wasn't so bad.

"You're back!" Kanoe cried, suddenly, as they entered the theater to find Fuuma and Seishiro side by side in the front row again.

"I am," Seishiro agreed, resignedly, but he seemed far less tense than he had been earlier.

"Mr. and Mrs. Aoki said Sunday night works for them," Kanoe said, before eagerly waxing on about her plans for the dinner party.

Behind her, Kusanagi caught Seishiro's eye. He nodded, and Kusanagi smiled before heading into the dressing room.

Yuzuriha scribbled "Yuzuriha's! Touch it and face my wrath! (there's exactly 33 chunks of tomato in here do NOT think I'm playing)" on a post-it, stuck it to the container of leftovers and tucked it safely into the fridge. She straightened up and turned to pick up her bag again, but then jumped and let out a squeal of surprise.

"Oh my god you scared the hell out of me!" she exclaimed, clutching her chest. Arashi stood frozen at the bottom of the stairs, looking mortified.

"I'm sorry! I didn't think anyone else was here!" she cried, flustered.

"Me neither, it's okay," Yuzuriha assured her, catching her breath. "Sorry to startle you."

"It's fine," Arashi said, running her fingers through her long hair. Yuzuriha thought for a split second of asking Arashi how her afternoon went, but that seemed insensitive. However, Arashi saved her the trouble of thinking of something else to say by asking the question herself.

"Good!" Yuzuriha said, surprised but grinning. "I hung out with Kusanagi, he made me pasta." She couldn't help but feel rather pleased with herself as she said it.

"That sounds really nice," Arashi said, earnestly, smiling as she approached her.

"It was," Yuzuriha agreed, wanting to keep the conversation going. "Kusanagi has this amazing garden, and I'm horrible at growing things so it was like, extra impressive. Animals I'm cool with, but plants? Not so much." Arashi giggled softly. It was a relief to have Yuzuriha around, her energy and positive attitude and receptivity. She probably felt closest to her of all the people here, right? But how did Yuzuriha feel? Did she agree? Arashi could still feel her own afternoon simmering inside her, all over her skin despite scrubbing herself clean earlier. Did Yuzuriha know? Could she tell? Arashi didn't want anyone to know, but an insane desire to fess up was suddenly gnawing at the inside of her chest and throat. "Hey, are you okay?" Yuzuriha asked, and Arashi hated the concern in her expression and voice.

"What? Oh I'm fine just," she cast wildly about for an excuse. "Just thinking about going back to work." Yuzuriha nodded glumly.

"Yeah I feel that. Speaking of, we should probably go."

"Right." Yuzuriha and Arashi set off together for the Igarashi, not speaking, but somehow intensely aware of each other in the warm evening light. Yuzuriha pulled open the heavy lobby door, and Arashi wondered if it would look more or less suspicious if they arrived together. If anything, Yuzuriha tended to distract everyone, so Arashi could probably sneak in unnoticed. At the same time though, she couldn't help but feel that her afternoon with Sorata had robbed her of her ability to stay invisible, that she was now under a spotlight, except that she wasn't on stage, she wasn't playing a character. She was just there as her freaked out and confused self.

"Arashi?" She stopped halfway through the lobby and faced Yuzuriha, who looked more concerned than ever. Arashi suddenly became aware of how shallowly she was breathing, of how fast her heart was beating. "Are you sure you're all right?" Arashi held her gaze in the suddenly airless lobby for a moment that dragged painfully. "Hey," Yuzuriha said, rushing forward and gently taking hold of Arashi's upper arm. She was positive it had something to do with Sorata and whatever they'd talked about that afternoon, but she didn't dare say so should it come out the wrong way. However, the touch on the arm seemed to dislodge something, and Arashi's eyes filled with tears in the ensuing landslide of emotion. Yuzuriha gasped and Arashi pressed her lips tightly together and shook her head vigorously.

"Oh god, I'm sorry!" she cried, mortified, clapping her hand to her mouth.

"It's okay, it's okay," Yuzuriha said at once, low and soothing, giving Arashi's arm a squeeze. "Here," she continued, gently guiding her to the bathrooms on the other side of the lobby which were thankfully empty. Arashi leaned against a sink, trying valiantly to stop crying though her efforts only seemed to make it worse. Yuzuriha seized a fistful of tissues from one of the boxes between the sinks and handed them to her. She took them and wiped her eyes impatiently.

"Sorry," she said, thickly. "Sorry, don't worry about me, go back to rehearsal, it's fine!" Yuzuriha's expression tightened.

"Arashi," she said, very seriously. "If you actually don't wanna talk about it, that's cool, but you can't seriously think I'd just leave you like this." Arashi's lip trembled and she pressed the tissues to her mouth, her eyes huge and fearful. She could practically feel the words bubbling in her chest again, and knew instinctively that trying to suppress them would be pointless, but she'd never really been in this position before and the pain in her chest was sharp and real and Yuzuriha was there, had always been there. She took a great, shuddering breath.

"Promise you won't tell anyone?" she asked, and she hated how childish she sounded. However, Yuzuriha just nodded earnestly, her expression still tight.

"Of course!" Arashi had no idea whether or not to believe her, but in that moment she didn't care. Her heart swelled in her chest and it seemed to push the words out of her burning, tight throat.

"Sorata and I, um," she blushed, at saying his name and because she wasn't even sure exactly how to phrase what had happened. Again, she hated how childish she sounded. Yuzuriha's eyes widened.

"Hooked up?" she offered, quietly. Arashi nodded, and so did Yuzuriha, because she was scared of saying the wrong thing. Unfortunately, Arashi had no idea what to make of her silence. Surely she must be judging her, right?

"It, I don't know, it was-" but she broke off and crossed her arms in front of her chest defensively. She hated the searching look Yuzuriha was now wearing and she didn't want to give her the wrong idea, particularly since she seemed to have an opinion already. She closed her eyes, but before she could turn away Yuzuriha carefully pulled her into a hug. Completely taken aback, Arashi shuddered in her arms, and then began to cry in earnest in a deeply confusing mix of gratitude and paralyzing fear. Yuzuriha closed her eyes and rubbed up and down her back. Although she felt ready to cry herself, she managed to stay present and focused, wanting more than anything to be there for her friend.

"It's all right," she breathed, over and over. "Whatever you're feeling, it's all right." Arashi shuddered again. Truthfully she had no idea what she was feeling, only that some part of her she'd never thought to tap into was suddenly in high gear and had released a tidal wave of entangled, unnamable things. She only half believed Yuzuriha when she said it was okay just to feel it, but it was such a relief that she was still there and wasn't judging, it seemed half was better than no belief. Arashi cried and cried, until eventually she was able to get some semblance of control over herself.

"Sorry," she said, thickly, pulling away, but before she could wipe her eyes, Yuzuriha tenderly held the sides of her face in both hands and rubbed her thumbs under her eyes, catching the last of her tears.

"Nothing to apologize for," she told her, quietly but sincerely. "We've all been there, don't worry." Arashi's lip trembled. Yuzuriha gave her a reassuring smile. "No pressure, obviously, but, do you wanna talk about what's freaking you out?" Arashi just stared back at her helplessly.

"It's nothing bad, just…" She swallowed and stared around hopelessly. Nothing? Everything?

"It's always weird your first time with someone new," Yuzuriha prompted, understandingly.

"Is it?!" Arashi burst out, completely without meaning to, blushing furiously.

"Totally!" Yuzuriha replied, her eyes widening as though it were obvious. "Plus him being a castmate and all, it makes you think." Arashi's eyes filled with tears again. Yuzuriha just smiled and handed her another fistfull of tissues. She understood completely what Arashi was going through, it reminded her of herself when she was first starting out and learning how to navigate working together and feelings and personalities. It surprised her that Arashi seemed so vulnerable and caught off guard by this, but then again, maybe she actually liked Sorata. Arashi blew her nose and wiped her fresh tears away.

"Have you ever…?" she asked, in a small voice.

"Hooked up with a castmate? Of course," Yuzuriha replied, kindly. Arashi pressed the soaked tissues to her mouth, her eyes widening in childlike curiosity. "You wanna hear a story about that? I promise you it's way worse than yours!" Arashi just swallowed, and Yuzuriha smiled and began. "So I was dating this guy my junior year of high school, and we ended up in the spring show together, of course as romantic leads." Arashi was already waiting for the "but," and couldn't understand why Yuzuriha was still smiling. "Everything was going great until he broke up with me halfway through rehearsal for the girl playing my mother."

"What?!" Arashi cried, mortified on Yuzuriha's behalf despite the fact that she was still smiling.

"Right? The worst part was-"

"It gets worse?!"

"It was high school, of course it does!" Arashi let out a snort of laughter in spite of herself, and Yuzuriha beamed. "They started smearing my name, going on about how much they loved each other and how much better he had it now and all that other bullshit."

"What did you do?" Arashi asked, breathlessly, her eyes huge but finally dry. Personally, she felt she'd have just died of embarrassment.

"Cried a lot," replied Yuzuriha, shrugging. "I didn't drop out of the show or anything, but I kept to myself way more after that. Of course that sucked because then I had everyone and their best friend suddenly interested in my life." Arashi made a disgusted noise, feeling the words deep inside.

"That's horrible, I'm so sorry," Arashi said, and she meant it. Weirdly enough, as awful as the story was, it did make her feel better to hear it, to be feeling something on behalf of someone else. Yuzuriha took her hand and gave it a squeeze.

"Thank you. It's all right though. I survived, then it was summer vacation so I got some distance."

"How?" Arashi asked, before she could stop herself. Yuzuriha laughed and ran her fingers through her hair.

"Did I survive? Well I won't lie, at the time it was all pretty traumatic, but," she paused, trying to think of the best way to say this. "People are gonna say what they're gonna say, but just because they say it doesn't make it true." For the briefest moment, her mind flashed to Kusanagi and how many people had seen them leave together. "Kamui also punched my ex, that helped," she said, shrugging.

"He what?!"

"Well that wasn't all he did, he stuck by me and took really good care of me the whole time, but he kept threatening to go kick his ass, because, you know, that would have helped." She smiled as she remembered him with his hands balled into fists, only managing to control his frustration for her.

"It'll make me feel better!" he'd insisted.

"But he got his chance during rehearsal, because his character had to punch my ex's character, so he 'accidentally' clocked him in the face instead of," Yuzuriha turned, threw a punch with her right hand and slapped her chest with her left. Arashi looked horrified.

"That wasn't immediately obvious to everyone?!" she asked, incredulously, and Yuzuriha burst out laughing.

"Oh it totally was, are you kidding?! And he wants to stand there like," she held up her hands and put on an expression of exaggerated surprise, then, adopting her best Kamui impression, "Oh shit, I'm sorry, I mean we knew that had to happen, ahh jeez, you all right, dude?" Arashi giggled, still in total disbelief but able to imagine it perfectly. "So if you need one of us to have words or-"

"No no," Arashi interrupted, holding her hands up in front of her as though pushing the suggestion away. "It's nothing bad, I promise. We were talking, and it just kind of happened, and… I guess it just caught up with me all of a sudden?" Yes, that sounded right. "Is that weird?" she asked, her voice lowering.

"Nah, we've all been there too," Yuzuriha replied, confidentially. "Especially considering you guys' parts and that Sorata's really cute, I don't blame you." Arashi wiped her eyes one last time, but managed another laugh, and Yuzuriha was delighted.

"Sorry about this," Arashi said again, but then before Yuzuriha could counter, "Or, thanks for being there, I suppose. Sorry…" She blushed, but Yuzuriha beamed.

"Any time! And like I said, your secret's safe with me." Arashi sighed, but she was either too tired to not take her seriously or she actually sort of believed her. Either way, she turned on the nearest sink, stuck her hands under the jet and splashed the cool water on her face. She felt strangely serene in the aftermath of her tears. She hadn't cried like that in a very long time, not even on stage, and although her sinuses hurt and her head was full and heavy, the rest of her body felt strangely light. She shut off the water and dried her face. Even though she still had no idea what was coming next, now she was at least confident she wouldn't burst into tears during rehearsal, which was very comforting.

"Better?" Yuzuriha asked. Arashi nodded. "You want water or anything?"

"No no, I'm fine, let's just-" but at that moment the door creaked open. Yuzuriha and Arashi whirled around and found themselves face to face with Satsuki. Her eyes widened for a moment, but then narrowed into her usual disdainful stare.

"Skipping rehearsal?" she asked.

"Yup," Yuzuriha replied at once, grinning. "You want in?"

"No." Satsuki stepped into a stall. Yuzuriha rolled her eyes ostentatiously at Arashi, who hastily suppressed a giggle.

"Why, you guys miss us?" Yuzuriha asked. Satsuki didn't reply until she reemerged from the bathroom stall, fixing them both with a deeply mistrustful look as she washed her hands.

"No, but Fuuma's getting antsy." Arashi's heart gave a sudden, nervous skip, but Yuzuriha just rolled her eyes again.

"Are you even allowed to be out here? I figure he'd wanna keep track of the rest of you." Satsuki shut off the water and dried her hands, and the disdain in her expression sharpened as she looked Yuzuriha in the face. However, as she spoke, the corner of her mouth twitched as though she were about to smile.

"Let him try." Yuzuriha grinned appreciatively.

"All right, all right, back to tech hell!" she cried, despairingly, and the three of them left the bathroom together, Satsuki in the lead.

The rest of the cast was already waiting for them, on stage and in costume. Arashi immediately spotted Sorata and his sigh of relief at her arrival.

"Sorry!" Yuzuriha called to Fuuma, looking and sounding convincingly exasperated. "It's my fault, I kept Arashi, we'll be right out!" And the pair of them sprinted into the dressing room. Sorata watched them go, his heart aching and stomach twisting despite the fact that she'd turned up safely. He'd talk to her later, if she was willing and able.

"Yeah yeah," replied Fuuma, his eyes darting between their retreating backs and Sorata. "We can just start without them. Places for the top of Act Four!" His cast obeyed, and he sat down between Nataku and Seishiro. "Let me see it."

The screen glowed its springy yellow green, and Satsuki brought up the rest of the lights. "The brigade's leaving today, it's the end of an era!" Kakyo began.

"This place will finally get some peace and quiet," said Kusanagi.

"And crippling boredom," added Karen, while Yuzuriha and Arashi snuck back into the audience. As was his MO today, Fuuma didn't stop for small adjustments, but made notes about them so he could address them later. Fortunately, Act Four was far simpler than Act Three, so there wasn't really much to address anyway. Instead, he kept watching Seishiro out of the corner of his eye for any nods or eyerolls and listening for any scoffs or affirmations. They'd talked a little over dinner back at the house, but then gotten distracted. However, Fuuma found he wanted Seishiro's opinion on his work far more than he wanted the orgasms.

"Hey, is Arashi all right?" Kamui asked, quietly, leaning across Keiichi to address Yuzuriha as Arashi left to take her cue.

"Hmm? Oh yeah, just tech stress."

"Okay," Kamui replied, not satisfied at all but understanding he was to ask nothing else. "Sorry," he added to Keiichi as he sat up straight again. "I wasn't trying to feel you up, I swear."

"I understand, it's no problem!" Keiichi replied, breezily, though he blew an ostentatious kiss to Kamui, who waggled his tongue appreciatively. Sorata heard the exchange from his seat on Kamui's other side and wondered if "tech stress" had been what Arashi had told Yuzuriha, if she'd told her anything at all. He shifted uncomfortably in his seat. He didn't like all the secrecy and talking around things. Why shouldn't they just be open and honest and speak plainly?

Or at least, that was how he'd felt before he learned just how difficult that truly was for people. He'd always taken it for granted that people knew what they were feeling and were always able to express it, so if they didn't, it was their choice. It had never occurred to him that his forthrightness might pressure people, or that there really were times and places not to say things, even if those things were both positive and truthful. "That doesn't make it necessary!" his last girlfriend had shouted at him, exasperatedly, during their final big argument. He shifted uncomfortably again. The last thing he wanted was to pressure Arashi, but if they were both holding back, wouldn't that just leave them with nothing?

"People keep telling me I'm a bitch," Arashi said, from her seat at the table with Kusanagi. "But when you only get scraps of happiness you have to snatch at them, and it toughens you up."

"I'm going to step out for a minute," Seishiro muttered to Fuuma.

"Mmhmm." Seishiro got to his feet and left in rather a hurry. Satsuki watched him go with narrowed eyes, massaging her new muscle relief patch into her still sore back.

Seishiro sighed as he emerged into the lobby, silent and peaceful and full of golden evening light. However, as he reached into the inside pocket of his suit jacket for his cigarettes, "Sei-chan!" He stared about confusedly, but then spotted Hokuto at the bar and headed towards her.

"Hello," he said, pleasantly.

"Long time no see, how've you been?" she asked, grinning.

"Well enough. Yourself?"

"Good good. Happy to be here even though it means I'm stuck out in the middle of nowhere for three months." Seishiro allowed her a small smile.

"I like your costumes." Hokuto bowed her head graciously, though she knew that was high praise coming from him and truly did appreciate it.

"You should see what I did for my kids today, it was way more interesting."

"I'll take your word for it," Seishiro replied with distaste. Hokuto just laughed and shoved his shoulder playfully. "What brings you to rehearsal, catching up on this year's project?" Hokuto's expression tightened for a second.

"What are you doing here, making sure Fuuma's not sleeping with his lead again?" Seishiro held her gaze in tense silence, but then laughed in grudging respect.

"Making sure he doesn't get himself murdered during tech, but now I'm just out for a cigarette."

"That's bad for you." Seishiro shrugged. "I was hoping to run into you, actually," Hokuto continued. "But now I have, I can go check on everyone else." Though of course, by everyone else she just meant Kakyo and Subaru.

"You can," Seishiro replied, lightly.

"I'll see you later, don't ghost me," Hokuto said, dire warning in her voice. Seishiro just laughed quietly and turned to go. As he left the lobby, his eyes travelled over the Macbeth and Yoru posters. The door swung shut, and Hokuto shook her head to clear it and entered the theater to find Karen and Kakyo alone downstage center.

"Don't bullshit me, you've been acting weird all day," Karen said, her arms also crossed. Kakyo said nothing. "What happened yesterday?" she asked, furtively. Kakyo sighed heavily and averted his gaze. Hokuto remained in the doorway, watching but without drawing attention.

"Just give me an hour, okay?" he said. Karen immediately made to protest, but Kakyo forestalled her.

"I fell in love with you when I met you, five years ago today, and you look more and more beautiful every day, it kills me." Karen's face fell and she bit her lip. As if he knew exactly what she was thinking, Kakyo continued, "I swear I'll make you happy, even though I know you don't love me back." His voice trailed away, and though he was clearly saddened to say it, he was confident, and it was that more than anything that caused Hokuto's heart to squeeze painfully. She knew people lied to each other's faces all the time, and to themselves even more, but something about the way he said the line made her think… Was this just Kakyo's natural ability Fuuma had so quickly spotted even when she hadn't, or was this something he really related to?

"I can't force it," Karen told Kakyo, quietly, reaching forward and taking his hand. He smiled tenderly at the gesture and Hokuto's heart throbbed. "I'll be a good wife to you," Karen pressed on earnestly. "I'll take care of you always, it's the least I can do!" Kakyo nodded, still wearing his tender, knowing smile. "I've never been in love, I don't think I ever will be, it's just never going to happen for me." Kakyo sighed and let go of her hand, allowing her to wipe her eyes. "Why are you in such a weird mood today?" Hokuto rolled her eyes.

'Maybe because he's your husband and you've told him you've never been in love?' she thought, impatiently. Really, how stupid was this character?

"I got no sleep last night," Kakyo said, evasively. Hokuto immediately remembered Kakyo using the same line on her, out of character and even less happy. She didn't like how he'd be up all hours of the night and sleep away the day.

"You need a job with a regular schedule," she'd tell him sternly, over and over.

"I can't, nowhere will hire me," he'd reply, over and over.

Hokuto sighed softly as Fuuma stopped the scene to enter into a back and forth with Satsuki about lights. She was of course thrilled that Kakyo had been able to make friends with his castmates, that they'd accepted him so willingly. It was also helpful that Fuuma prefered casting new people whenever possible. With a few exceptions from the standing company, almost everyone was in the same boat. It was the refreshing opposite of high school drama, where it was always the same people playing the same characters each semester. It had all seemed so impenetrable to Subaru, and she'd offered to help him, but,

"I don't need your help!" he'd snapped at her.

Her focus on Kakyo seemed to sharpen as Fuuma and Satsuki's words kept everything else an irritated blur. Subaru had been right, of course; he'd auditioned for A Midsummer Night's Dream their sophomore year and gotten Puck over the person who'd seemed a shoe in, but she'd be lying if she said it hadn't been hard to hear. However, she was usually the one who made the effort to separate, to remind him that they were different people. She had no patience for that kind of codependency in any relationship. Her lip curled softly at Seishiro having the nerve to call Kakyo her project when he'd spent the last four years trying to corral Fuuma and keep him close. Talk about a project…

"Yeah, that'll work," Fuuma said, loudly, from his front row seat, before turning, probably to look for Seishiro. However, he smiled when he spotted Hokuto. "Hey! The fuck are you doing here?"

"Just visiting," Hokuto replied, brightly, waving at the cast. Kakyo's chest swelled and his face lit up.

"Is Seishiro still outside? We're almost at the part I want him to see!" Fuuma asked impatiently. Hokuto rolled her eyes, but then, as if on cue, Seishiro appeared behind her, bringing a strong smell of cigarettes into the room.

"Speak of the devil!" Kanoe said, loudly.

"I'll tell him you called," Seishiro replied as he sat back down.

"Yeah yeah, come on, I wanna get this done," Fuuma said irritably. "Transeau, let's have your line, please?" Hokuto flashed Kakyo a smile and a peace sign as he and his castmates got back into position. She wondered if Fuuma's irritation with other people was impatience or feeling unheard. If her life's experience had taught her anything, it was that not being heard was devastating, even if the people talking had no idea what they wanted to say or how to say it. Although she herself was a good listener, it was hard to empathize: communication had never been an issue for her.

"Communication… That's a nice way of saying 'never being quiet,'" Subaru had told her, playfully, back in college, and she'd smacked him with a pillow. However, shortly after that conversation he'd told her, "No! You don't know, so don't tell me you understand!" A flush burned between her collar bones. She couldn't place the exact fight, they'd had the same one many times throughout high school and college; that was when he started arguing back with her rather than just heeding her advice. His words always stuck with her, like a fragmented splinter that would periodically expel pieces. The last piece had come out at Yoru's final night, when she'd overheard Yuuto and Kanoe telling some audience member about communication being the key to their successful relationship.

"Is it actually communication when they just toss their dogma back and forth without actually saying anything?" Hokuto had muttered to Camellia, who had also paused to eavesdrop. She shrugged. "Not that I'm judging…"

"Not that any of us judge," she replied, smiling almost wistfully.

"It's crazy, what suddenly matters to you," Kakyo said from on stage, jerking Hokuto back to the present. "Even when you know it's trivial petty bullshit it feels important, and you can't stop." The flush between Hokuto's collar bones spread and she crossed her arms in front of her chest. "Fuck, sorry, let me not," Kakyo continued, holding his hands up in front of him and shaking his head rather sadly. "It's beautiful out today!" Karen raised her eyebrows at his abrupt shift to a would-be encouraging tone. "The grass is finally green, the trees have leaves again!" He smiled bravely, stepped forward and kissed Karen tenderly on the cheek. Hokuto smiled despite the burning flush travelling up to her throat. "I've gotta go, I'll see you later." He turned, but Karen caught him by the arm.

"I'll go with you!"

"No!" Kakyo cried, apparently more loudly than he'd intended because he closed his eyes for a moment to collect himself before continuing in a calmer tone. "No." He gave her another brave smile that made Hokuto's throat constrict. "Irene?"

"What?" Kakyo hesitated, and for a fraction of a second his eyes darted to Hokuto, making her heart squeeze painfully.

"I haven't had coffee yet today," he continued, his gaze snapping back to Karen. "Will you make me some?" Karen just stared back at him, nonplused, but before she could reply Kakyo gave her another brave smile and hurried off stage through the audience. He caught Hokuto's eye again, and she beamed. He smiled back, and for a split second he seemed ready to approach her, but sat down in the audience instead. Taking that as her cue to leave, Hokuto backed slowly out of the theater, her chest still flushed.

"Good shit!" Fuuma called, loudly. "Keep going!" The lines continued, and in the audience Arashi was already thinking ahead, to when Maudie and Colonel Young had to say their last goodbye. Obviously she'd have to perform being in love with Sorata again, and she could do it, but what if something was different? What if people could tell what had happened between them? She swallowed, her heart pounding violently against her ribs. On stage, Karen and Kanoe took their exit, leaving Subaru and Sorata alone on stage. Although Sorata hadn't tried to talk to her, she knew he was worried about her, and she felt weirdly grateful for his concern despite not wanting him to be concerned in the first place.

"Are you okay?" Karen asked, taking the seat beside Arashi and making her jump.

"What? Oh no, I'm fine," she replied, shaking her head, her hair swaying about her. Karen tilted her head to the side.

"Tired?" she asked, sympathetically. Arashi nodded again. Immediately her mind showed her Karen asking a leading question or making some knowing comment and she felt her body tense in preparation, but all Karen said was,

"Me too."

"Nothing ever works out the way you want it to, does it?" Subaru asked Sorata, ironically. "I never wanted to be headmaster, but here I am, which means I'm stuck here. I'll never get back to New York."

"Thank you for everything, seriously," said Sorata in a constricted voice. Arashi got up to take her mark as Subaru cried,

"Where's Maudie?" and wiped his eyes.

"I have no idea what else to say, I used up all my philosophy, I guess," said Sorata.

"Hm," muttered Seishiro.

"I've gotta go," Sorata said, though he made no effort to actually get going. "What if hard work were always supplemented by education? And education by hard work?" he tried, but then laughed defeatedly. "Fuck, I gotta go." However, at that moment, Arashi entered from downstage left, and Sorata's entire aspect was suddenly heavy with sadness. "I wanted to say goodbye," he said, his voice still constricted. Arashi kept her eyes fixed upon his handsome face, his expression so genuine even under the stage lights. Subaru drew away, and Sorata whispered, "Are you okay?" so quietly that she could barely hear it. However, the words seemed to unblock her somehow, and with the tiniest of nods, she kissed him full on the lips.

"Oh," said Seishiro, and a satisfied smile spread across Fuuma's face, while in the lighting booth Satsuki opened a metal drawer, took out a new pen and slammed it shut with undue force.

The rest of the act was a blur after that, so in no time Kusanagi was telling Subaru, Karen and Arashi what had happened to Transeau. Fuuma was very pleased with the lighting and made no further comment as Subaru delivered his last line and the whole theater went black.

"Awesome!" Fuuma called through the darkness. "Take fifteen and then let's run Acts Two and Three again, please!" Satsuki brought up the lights, and Fuuma turned expectantly to Seishiro.

"Good," he said, simply, and Fuuma could tell he meant it. "I think I've seen my fill for now, though." Fuuma had expected this, but,

"Until opening night, right?" Seishiro stared back at him for a moment, his head tilted slightly to the side and eyes catching the house lights.

"Most likely." Fuuma smiled.

"I'll see you at home, then?"

"Most likely."

"Most likely," Fuuma repeated in a mocking tone. Seishiro rolled his eyes, but then got to his feet and gathered his things. He left without saying goodbye to anyone except Kusanagi and Satsuki. Fuuma thought about walking him out, but knew ultimately that was stupid. He turned instead to Nataku, looking like the ignored older sibling of a problematic child. "Will you please get me more coffee?" Nataku sighed softly, but obliged, and Fuuma stretched luxuriously in his seat.

They wrapped up at almost exactly 10 pm, and Fuuma sent them all on their way. He didn't want to hang around, eager as he was to get back to Seishiro, but, "You need help closing up?" he asked Nataku.

"No thank you," he replied, coldly, and Fuuma just rolled his eyes and exited through the lobby. However, he ran into Satsuki waiting by the bar, looking haughty and impatient.

"You trying to sneak away too?" Fuuma asked her.

"Yes, but I ran into you anyway. Plan ruined."

"Sorry." Fuuma hung his head, and the corner of Satsuki's mouth twitched as she shifted her bag to her other shoulder. Her chest constricted suddenly, squeezing her heart up into her throat and down into her stomach. Did Fuuma know she was waiting for Yuuto and Kanoe? He couldn't, but either way she didn't want to talk to him about anything. A moment's silence passed. "You've been fucking great this week," Fuuma told her, smiling, and with that, he left the lobby and was immediately swallowed by the pitch darkness.

Satsuki just watched him go, her chest still constricted. She remembered suddenly that Fuuma had also… She shuddered, suddenly hating his praise. Even though she knew in the rational part of her brain that the two had nothing to do with each other, she felt her skin crawl at the very idea.

'Whatever, let him go fuck Seishiro,' she thought, spitefully. She leaned against the bar, her bag's strap cutting into her shoulder and making the pain in her upper back worse.

---

In the dressing room, Sorata hung up his costume in silence while his castmates' wound up energy and conversation swirled around him. Now he was off stage, Arashi and all the questions she posed were free to fill his head. Although she'd told him she was all right, he still felt unsure. He pulled on his jeans and t-shirt and made to leave the dressing room, but, "Sorata, hold up a second?" Kamui called across the room. Sorata paused as Kamui told Subaru, "You go ahead." Subaru gave his hand a squeeze and headed out the door with Keiichi, both of them brofisting Sorata as they passed.

"What's up?" he asked as Kamui approached, but he just shook his head and gave the tiniest nod to Kusanagi, Yuuto and Kakyo, who were still getting dressed. Sorata hastily started talking about something random until the other three wished them goodnight and left. Once the door shut behind them, Kamui faced Sorata.

"Did I dream you coming into my room and-"

"No," Sorata forestalled him, feeling suddenly hot around the ears. "No, that definitely happened. Sorry to wake you up."

"Pfft, I don't care." Sorata laughed. "Everything's good though?" Kamui asked next, his tone either playfully leading or checking in, depending on how you were listening.

"Yeah definitely," he replied, grateful Kamui hadn't asked with whom he'd been fooling around, though he supposed it was obvious.

"Cool," Kamui replied with a shrug, then a wide smile spread across his face. "I wanna throw an End of Tech party Sunday night. Yuzuriha and Keiichi are cool with it as long as you and Arashi are too." Sorata's heart skipped at the words.

You and Arashi. You and Arashi. You and Arashi, before it occurred to him that they lived in the dorm too and therefore asking the before throwing a party was just common courtesy. 'He's not trying to say nothing, relax.'

"I'll ask her about it tomorrow," said Kamui. "She seems like she doesn't wanna be bothered tonight."

"What? Oh yeah, sorry, I'm totally down," Sorata replied, hurriedly, heat creeping up his neck. "Splitting bottles of wine after rehearsal ain't cutting it."

"That's what I'm saying!" Kamui exclaimed, clapping him on the shoulder. Sorata couldn't help but laugh, and they left the dressing room together.

---

"They're gone," Yuzuriha told Arashi over her shoulder. Arashi flushed, but nodded. She knew it was stupid to avoid Sorata, especially when they were going to the same place anyway, but it made her feel better in the short term.

"Sorry about this," she said, but Yuzuriha waved the words aside.

"I totally understand, don't worry."

"I'm glad someone does," replied Arashi, without meaning to, and her blush deepened. When had she completely lost the ability to control her words? Yuzuriha giggled, but then her expression saddened.

"It's all still new," she reminded Arashi. "Just let the feelings settle for a second, you know?" Arashi raised her eyebrows. It seemed impossible that her feelings would ever settle for longer than a few seconds now she was off stage, but at that moment she was way too tired to argue the point. "It will, don't worry," Yuzuriha persisted, her eyes shining earnestly. Arashi just ran her fingers through her hair.

"I hope so." Yuzuriha smiled encouragingly.

"Let's get out of here, shall we?"

"Mm."

They picked up their bags, shut off the lights in the dressing room and proceeded down the dark hallway. Backstage, they ran into Nataku, who was organizing all of the props. "Will you be here much longer?" Yuzuriha asked him. He fixed them with his usual deadpan stare, looking as suspicious as he always did whenever she, or indeed anyone besides Fuuma, Hokuto, Satsuki or Kusanagi tried to make conversation with him.

"Yes, I've still got some things to take care of," he replied. Yuzuriha smiled but didn't receive one in return. However, it didn't bother her, and she thought for a moment of telling him to make sure he got enough sleep too, though she was pretty sure he wouldn't appreciate it. Instead, she said,

"See you tomorrow!" And she and Arashi headed back out through the now empty theater and into the lobby. They expected it to be empty too, but they found Satsuki, Yuuto and Kanoe deep in conversation, though they stopped abruptly when they realized they were no longer alone. "Don't mind us, we're just leaving!" Yuzuriha called, hurriedly, smiling and waving over her shoulder as she led Arashi out the door, which swung shut behind them on a waft of summer air.

Satsuki's jaw clenched as the pain in her upper back throbbed yet again. "So Sunday night will work!" Yuuto said, cajolingly, and Kanoe squeezed his upper arm and kissed him on the cheek. Satsuki managed not to roll her eyes, but it was a close thing.

"Yeah," she said, wrenching her teeth apart. "Anyway I'm fucking exhausted, I'll see you both tomorrow." Without waiting for a reply, she left the lobby, the warmth jarring after so long in the air conditioning. Her throat constricted as she crunched around the parking lot to where she'd chained up her bike. Her mind was full of Yuzuriha's smile, of Kanoe's satisfaction, Arashi's awkwardness and of Yuuto's… Of Yuuto. She shook her head, wanting desperately to clear it, but knowing that wouldn't be possible until she was at home, doped up on the weed Kusanagi had given her.

---

I get the same pain Satsuki's having every year during NaNoWriMo. I call it my writing injury and it's no fun. Fortunately my day job helps, but still, ew. All the after tech parties next chapter! Are you all excited? I am!

See you soon!

I think of reviews when I summon my kekkai, leave me some!