"Whassit feel like?" Hiro asked, with his lips attached to a can of cold green tea.
"Huh? Hiro?"
Shuichi blinked. Hiro attempted to read his mind, because he wasn't getting any coherent responses from Shuichi since Yuki gave him that thing. He peered at Shuichi's glazed over eyes. He's thinking—he's thinking he had forgotten it was night; oh, it has been so for hours, but he swore it was daylight in his ring. In comparison Shuichi's hand was as pallid and cool as the moon.
"What's it feel like, now, now that you know for certain?"
"That he loves me? I already knew."
"So what makes things different? What does that ring do? Is it magic?"
"Yes, it's magic."
"Pardon me?" Hiro belched into the back of his hand.
"To be in love."
"I know what it's like to be in love. Getting engaged, stupid."
"Huh? Oh…oh, it means nothing, right? It's a hollow archaic ritual."
"Wow, Shuichi, not the sentimentalist I always figured you for. Why are you being so—"
"Being so?"
"Yeah."
"It's a sign. Signifying a new beginning, a more correct start, I guess. When we first met, the results were confusion and hostility. You remember what a wreck I was. I couldn't suss Yuki out, and then I couldn't suss myself out. You know, now—"
"I know—"
"Every morning, he now kisses me. Whether or not I've brushed my teeth yet—"
"I know—"
"He used to throw things at me before this—"
"I know…"
"I know."
Hiro furrowed his brow and finished off his drink. He flung it carelessly, aiming for nothing, but landing it in a trash can. Perfect. Ideal. Hiro did nothing wrong. The lapse in conversation drew Shuichi's attention back to the ring. He raised his hand, for a second inspected it like a jeweler, then held it out again proudly. The parklamp caught the platinum surface and bounced off Hiro's eye. He winced and turned his gaze to his swinging feet.
Bad Luck had finished their national tour last week, and now are rewarding themselves with much laziness and uselessness. Seated on a stone ledge laid into a grassy hill, they came to the park to watch the Tokyo from a distance. The cars and heaving crowds were still audible, but were muffled like someone laid carpet in the ears. Hiro now takes the deepest breaths before joining the mass, and enduring the concrete and glass that contained structured chaos. No ground throbbing beats to replace his heart, no guitar strings to replace his vocal chords. For now anyway, he could only avoid it for so long—but the silence was killing him.
From where Hiro stood on stage, he could barely see Shuichi's face. He mainly saw the hair matted to the back of his neck with sweat. Hiro knew his music so well, he plucked the notes out with no thought, so he concentrated on the face he couldn't even see. He tried to read Shuichi's mind. He'd forgotten it was night, but swore it was day… was Shuichi being genuine? What about Yuki? Who could tolerate their behavior forever, forever, forever… Hiro would sip his complimentary drinks in a room crowded with industry sorts and groupies, politely fighting off girls trying to snog him, so he could see a face he couldn't see. Hiro snorted to himself, Shuichi's so short.
"I know."
"What, Hiro?"
"Yuki continues to surprise, doesn't he? What a curious guy."
"He's a sweetie, the biggest sweeties. Isn't that typical? When he clasped my hand…it still feels warm."
"Hot and sweaty."
"What?"
"You were hot and sweaty. So your hands must have been too."
Hiro pulled on a smile. In the middle of a massive festival concert in Osaka, before the biggest crowd Bad Luck had ever played, Yuki casually strolled on stage, one hand in his pocket. He brushed past Hiro, who smelled the smoke coming off his clothes. Shuichi turned to see why the music stopped, and Hiro saw his face. Shuichi's eyes brightened with intensity—why? He was crying, not crying, tears involuntarily rolled down his cheeks. Yuki said nothing, he merely held the ring out as if he found it and was returning it to the owner. They suddenly embraced and held on, to the audience's exuberant cheering. Hiro sat on an amp, staring at their sloppy kisses and red-cheeked happiness. It had gotten so quiet.
"It's so—"
"What?"
Hiro crossed his arms, hugging himself. The warm wind picked up and rustled Shuichi's hair. The soft strands danced against his soft temples.
"I can't stop smiling to himself, Hiro. My face is starting to hurt." Shuichi laughed and smoothed his cheeks down. "I keep missing my stops when I'm on the train. My brain's turning to pudding, warm yummy pudding."
"Geez, it's coming out of your mouth."
"Hiro."
Shuichi shifted closer to Hiro to wrap his arm around him. The body heat made Hiro shrink further into himself.
"Hiro, it won't change things with us."
"Right. I know—"
"I know there's something on your mind though—"
"Oh, um—"
A gaggle of teenagers entered their space. Oh, they weren't the only ones on earth. Their shoes clattered rhythmlessly on the flagstone. The sound seemed to ride on top of Hiro's senses. They eventually traveled out of earshot, and Hiro relaxed a bit. Hiro remembered when…they weren't that old yet, were they? Shuichi had started smiling again.
"Hey, Shuichi. I had this dream."
"Dreams are nice."
"We were in a hothouse. Somewhere. Outside looked like a Claritin ad, you know? It was huge and we're there alone, I guess we owned it. We were learning the names of flowers, the Latin names. Then we wondered if we should categorize them by alphabet or by color."
"What did we decide?"
"Color, of course. We're aesthetic people. We spent all day doing this, we never got hungry thirsty or tired. Nothing was too heavy or too difficult or messy. When were finished he picked petals and rubbed the color off onto our skin. You rubbed them onto your cheeks, you looked like one happy chibi. Ha, we made quite a mess of ourselves. We looked like a bad fingerpainting accident. Then we waited for the night, we didn't know it was still day, we swore it was night. So we laid down on the broken flowers. And the ground began to shake. We'd gone to the hothouse, cause we knew the world was ending. How, who knows? Why?" Hiro shrugged. "We just knew. The ceiling cracked and the sun broke into a thousand pieces. It became a thousand times brighter. As the tremors got worse, the glass roof started to look like water, then rain. We knew the world was ending. How, who knew? Why? We just knew. We knew we were dying, painlessly. Everyone died, everything died, but everything was beautiful, because your cheeks were red. I reached over, tilted your head and kissed you. 'There,' I said."
"I don't get it."
"Nothing to get. It's just a dream."
"Hm…"
Pondering this, Shuichi rested his head on Hiro's shoulder. For a moment, forgetting his ring. They sat in complete silence. Having been friends for so long, it was nothing new.
"I know…" Shuichi mumbled without reason. He mumbled, because there were no words. All Hiro knew was the pressure on his shoulder, and how do you speak that? Like this. Hiro leaned forward a little, held Shuichi's chin and kissed him lightly on the mouth.
"There."