at first i didnt want to update today, but then i realized i accidentally set up an update schedule that will fall right on valentine's day

so i thought

why not, right?

please enjoy! :9

"Gee, if I'm being a nuisance with my music, you can just tell me, you know?" Arata says, lying him down on the couch. The blond closes his eyes, grateful for the comfy cushions. He thought the one at Baa-chan's were a little too hard for his taste.

"You looked like you were chasing after a deadline or something. I didn't want to hold you back." He explains, sniffling.

Arata rolls his eyes. "You put others way above yourself. Be a little selfish sometimes, alright?"

"I can say the same to you. You practically carried me up three flights of stairs."

"That's because I was the reason you went all the way to that old woman's place!" Arata argues. He then rolls up his sleeves. "So, do you still want miso soup or something else to eat?"

He doesn't have much of an appetite and he'd really rather eat nothing at all. But he knows Arata won't let him go with an empty stomach. He can really be a troublesome flatmate at times, but when was he never?

The blond nods his head gently. "Miso soup…" he says weakly. At least he's sure he can down some soup. If not, well, he can't really do anything about it then.

"Try getting some sleep. I'll wake you up once it's done." The other says. Arata leaves him there for the kitchenette and his eyes travel to the table, where he can see an acoustic guitar on the carpet beside it. Papers with words are littered on it and there is a lot of pencil shavings and eraser dust.

A very messy workspace, that's for sure.

He tries to do as he was told—sleep. But his mind drifts back to Kamui Island, where Arata's table in their dorm room was sometimes as messy, where his notebooks were decorated with various doodles of LBXs, where he sometimes has to clean Arata's desk for him.

A small smile finds itself on his face and he chuckles.

He doesn't remember when he fell asleep. All he knows is that Arata poked him awake on the cheek with a spoon's handle. "Wakey, wakey, sleepyhead, before your soup goes cold," he coos, causing the blond to bolt upright on the couch. It's a bad move because the sudden jolt made his head hurt even more. He makes a show out of it by groaning loudly.

Arata stands up. "I'll get some tablets."

He comes back a moment later, placing the bottle of pills beside a bowl and lowers himself to his knees. "Open up." Arata says, taking a spoonful of soup and holding it in front of the blond's face.

He stares at the spoon and then at Arata. "…What?" the sick adult says blearily.

"It's dinner." Arata replies, almost too innocently.

"I can see it's my dinner," he grumbles. "I'm wondering what you are doing."

"Feeding you." He says, like it's the most obvious thing in the world.

He blinks. He blinks again. "You are not feeding me. I have a fever, not two broken hands." His tone sounds incredulous. Surely he must be dreaming—to dream of Arata wanting to feed him, how embarrassingly insane. He should've seen something is wrong when he was woken by Arata's loving voice.

Then again, this is a fever dream. He's not awake yet.

"You can barely sit upright," Arata shakes his head, placing the spoon in the bowl. He takes the seat beside the blond and pushes him gently by the shoulders, so he's leaning into the couch. "You need to rest as much as you can." Arata says softly.

He looks into Arata's face and the other stares back. He almost can't comprehend why Arata is being nice to him; not that he always isn't but today it feels like he's nicer than usual. It's making him a little uncomfortable but he can't find anything to complain about to make the other stop.

He doesn't hate it; it's just… making him feel weird inside.

Reluctantly he admits defeat and nods his head with a sigh. He realizes his blond hair is terribly messy and his head feels like it's covered in seaweed. He reaches back and pulls out his hair tie, letting his long hair loose. He attempts to retie it but another pair of hands takes his bundle of hair and scrunchie from his grasp. He raises his eyebrow when Arata repositions himself so he's facing him.

"Turn around," Arata says. "I'll tie it for you."

His first instinct is to say 'No!' but he's too far gone to resist. He does as Arata instructs him and feels the redhead's fingers brushing his locks, pulling every stray strand back into place and fastening the hair tie a bit too tightly. For some reason, he enjoys it; more so when Arata feeds him spoonful after spoonful of soup.

It feels nice to be doted on, even if it's a dream.

"Hey Arata, you alright? Your play's awful today."

"Huh? Oh, hey Ren. Really? How awful, say, on a scale of one to ten?"

"Seriously man, what's up? All of us knew you since high school, and you've definitely got a problem."

"Yeah, you can tell us. We're a band, right?"

"Alright, alright, quit nagging," a deep sigh escapes the redhead's lips. He can't shake these three off at all. Guess that's why he stuck with them. "There's just… this guy. He's my flatmate and—"

"Woah, woah, woah, hold up, you've got a flatmate and you didn't tell us?"

"Wait, let me guess. You're crushing on your new flatmate, aren't you?"

"And this is why I don't talk to you guys!"

"X marks the spot boys, we've hit gold! Arata's distracted because he keeps getting dirty fantasies featuring his sexy flatmate!"

"T-That's not what I'm trying to say—!"

When he's better and fit as a fiddle few days later, Baa-chan is the one who appears on his doorstep this time. No, it's not to collect the rent, apparently.

"I've got coupons." She says.

He blinks, not exactly understanding where she's coming from.

"I've got two coupons for a free one week stay at Richmond Hotel Fukushimaekimae," she says. "I won them in a lottery but I'm too old to be travelling and all my other friends are just as old as me, so we're going nowhere with that."

The woman pulls out said coupons out of her maroon clutch and hands them to him. "You and Arata-kun should go instead."

His eyes widen largely. He looks at the strips of plastic paper offered to him then to Baa-chan's face again. Go on a holiday trip…? With Arata…? He can't quite grasp the logic behind that. Maybe he still has a fever and this is another fever dream. He should see a doctor. This can't be normal.

"Stop looking at me like you've been told you're inheriting Kaidou Jin's fortunes," she says sharply, knocking him out of his stupor. "Take the coupons. I don't have all day to argue with you because I'm not accepting a 'no'. That's that."

And now here he is, on the sofa, staring at the coupons that were forced onto him by a woman thrice his age. Arata isn't home yet, he's out with his band as usual.

When he thinks about it, maybe a little break is exactly what Arata needs under all that stress. It's not like the redhead ever takes a rest during the weekends. He's not sure why Arata's more invested in his band than usual but he suspects it's something big. He hasn't exactly asked but he'll find out eventually or when Arata decides to tell him on his own volition.

It's not like he minds going on a trip with Arata anyway. What harm can it do?

He hears the door to the apartment unlock and stands—only to freeze when he hears a number of voices not from Arata. He doesn't recognize any of them at all, complete strangers. If he's quick maybe he'll make it to his room in time to hide if Arata invites them in. Wait, why does he want to hide? Plus that's bad manners as a host.

"Ugh, guys, come on, get out of here." An exasperated Arata says.

"No way Arata, we wanna meet him!"

"Yeah, introduce us to him."

"We'll force our way in if we have to!"

The blond sighs with a smile. Looks like whomever they are, they're giving Arata a hard time (if the loud grumbling from the redhead is any indication) and it appears that Arata has no intention of inviting them inside.

Then he hears signs of a scuffle, some more shouting, a door slammed locked and one pair of footsteps tiredly approaching the living room. He can recognize those steps anywhere, sluggish as they may be.

"Eek…!" Arata squeaks in surprise and his face breaks into a deep crimson. "Hoshihara!" he exclaims. His lollipop almost falls out of his mouth and he decides to hold onto it.

The blond raises an eyebrow. "Welcome home." He says, despite the reaction Arata gave upon seeing him.

"Um, yeah, I'm home," he scratches his cheek. "I, uh, thought you've got work today…?"

"It's a Sunday."

"Oh, right."

Arata's playing with his sleeves and shifting from feet to feet, pointedly avoiding the blond's gaze. Weird.

"I assume they are your bandmates." He says, making way to the kitchenette.

"Huh? Oh, yeah, they are. Loud lot, aren't they? Nosy too," Arata says with an obviously fake laugh. He scratches the back of his head and grins. "I'm going to rest in my room now…" Arata starts towards his room, evidently taking awkward steps.

"Wait," he says, picking up his glass of water and drinking a little. Arata turns towards him with an expectant look on his face—maybe a little eagerness too? He's shifting on his feet again.

"Baa-chan came here earlier."

"Oh?"

"She gave me these," he waves the tickets in his hands. "And she told me to go with you. They're coupons for a free stay in a resort in Fukushima. You up for it?"

"Eh…? Eh? Eh?!"

He narrows his eyes at Arata. "That's quite a reaction."

Despite saying that, he's seen Arata respond like that a lot of times before. Back in Kamui and back when they were in Jenock together. So it's not all too unfamiliar to him. Maybe it's because Arata's so much like his fourteen year old self right now that he's thrown off.

Arata's hasty and not paying full attention, locking people behind doors (he heard about Arata locking up Haruki and Sakuya in an unused mechanic room while he was hospitalized after his shocking attack) and overreacting over the small things.

"Oh, uh, when is it…?" Arata asks, coughing.

"In a week. That's what it says on the tickets."

Arata takes a large gulp. "I… I see." Arata's looking everywhere but at him. Slight disappointment rises inside the blond.

He says, "If you don't want to go you can just say so." He can't deny a slither of hope had made its way into him but at least he hadn't hoped very strongly that Arata would agree. The trip would cut into his schedule so suddenly after all. Looks like Baa-chan's luck in the lottery would have to go to waste. Or he can find someone else to go with…

"T-That's not—!" Arata begins. "I'm just… I'm just not sure if I can make it. The band's taking most of my time lately. But I do want to go with you!" he stresses with a confident face. "I'd love to. It sounds like fun."

For some reason Arata smiles and it unnerves him, especially after Arata said he definitely wants to go. It almost feels like there's something else entirely going on with Arata. The blond shakes his thoughts away—he must be overthinking things again.

It's good that Arata does want to go; he thinks that it was starting to get a bit awkward. So even if circumstances don't allow them for the trip, there's still the knowledge that Arata was willing to go with him. And that makes his chest lighter and his spirits higher.

"I'll try asking them tomorrow to see if it's fine," Arata says, moving towards his room. "I'm looking forward to a yes."

Me too, he thinks to himself.

"Arata."

Turning his head, he sees Ren standing next to him with two sodas in his hand. "Hey." He says to the other.

Ren smiles. "Sorry about all the teasing yesterday," he says and hands a soda. "So when will you introduce him to us?"

"With how things are going, I don't think I ever will."

"Aw, come on!"

"Thanks to you guys, I couldn't get proper sleep last night," he snarls at him. "It's no better when he invited me to Fukushima next week too. Now I'm all messed up and confused!"

"Wait, he invited you to Fukushima? Is that his hometown?"

"No! …I think. Our landlord won some prize and gave it to him so he's inviting me but since the thing is so close now I don't think I should go but I really want to—!"

"Arata, calm down!" Ren says, half-laughing and half serious at the speed Arata used to babble. "Why are you even hesitating? Just go."

"But the band—"

"You've done enough for the band to deserve that little break. Don't worry. I'll take charge when you're gone."

"You mean it?"

"Of course I do, the band can live without you for a week." He says, grinning.

It's at this moment Arata realizes how great of a friend Ren is, the rascal.

He can feel the train slow down under his feet and he distinctly looked out the window. The train station is closing in from the distance. The blond turns off his tablet and place it in his bag before he turns to the person in front of him.

Arata's sleeping soundly and he wonders if it's due to the lack of sleep Arata had these past few weeks. He almost doesn't have the heart to wake Arata up but he has to. Besides, Arata can continue his sleep in their hotel room.

Softly he nudges Arata by the shoulder. A mumbled incomprehensible response comes out.

"Sena, wake up. We're here." He says, hoping that Arata's mind would be quick enough to process the information and jolt him awake. Instead, he gets a yawn and Arata stretches his limbs. He's mumbling again but clearer this time.

"Five more minutes, Hikaru…"

The blond's eyes widen. The train comes to a complete halt, momentarily pulling him out of his daze. He takes Arata's bag and, without a second glance, throws it onto Arata's lap. The redhead's surprised yelp disappears into the small noise as a tiny crowd of people board off, accompanied by the chatter from the pedestrians waiting at the station.

He doesn't even realize he's already a few meters away from the train, only stopping by the waiting area because his subconscious mind remembers that he's not travelling alone and he left said travelling partner to his own devices inside the train. He's taking deep breaths and he forces his eyes shut.

What was that?

Did Arata really…? Then, why is he so affected by it…? Is he scared of it? Suddenly he's thrown into a spiral of confusion and unanswered questions. Did Arata remember? Is his amnesia cured? Or was that just Arata finally deciding to be on first names basis in his sleep?

Maybe going on this vacation wasn't the best idea after all.

Arata finds him moments later, gasping for breath.

"There you are," he says and then smiles. "You really didn't have to leave me behind you know?" he tries to make it sound like he's offended but it's obvious he's joking. Then he sees the blond's face and his own expression drops. "Hey, you okay?"

The blond's still taking deep breaths. "Just a bit carsick," he lies with a tinge of guilt. "I'll be fine if I sit for a while."

Arata gives him a sceptical look but he sits down next to him either way.

Time ticks by as he waits for his nerves to settle down. He's still asking himself questions about earlier, when Arata called his name in his sleep. Or was it a half-sleep? It doesn't matter. It's the fact that it happened that matters.

He does wonder why he's overreacting. It's such a simple occurrence, something he handled so much better back when he was fourteen years old and had just recently transferred into Kamui Daimon. Why is it so hard to deal with now? Is it because he's gotten himself used to hearing his family name flow out of the redhead's mouth?

This is utterly ridiculous, he thinks to himself.

He summons all of his energy and stands up, turning around to face Arata. "Let's catch a cab." He says.

"You sure you're okay?" Arata asks. He sounds very worried as he slings his bag over his shoulder. The blond nods vigorously. "Yeah, I'm fine."

"Hey, Hoshihara."

"Hm?"

"Let's make a detour."

"Huh?"

"I mean, it's still early. We've got a couple of hours to spare before we gotta check in. It'll be fine."

"And where do you suggest we go?"

"I know a place or two."

"Really?"

"Come on, trust me on this."

"The sleep in the train must've given you a lot of energy. What do we do with our luggage, genius?"

"Don't worry, don't worry, I've got that covered!"

His eyebrows rise incredulously. Is Arata for real? He can't be serious. But Arata proves his word when he takes the blond's bag. "Stay here." Arata says over his shoulder, leaving the area in small jogs. He stares at Arata's retreating figure, dumbfounded by how he's able to carry two large and heavy bags with ease and trying to figure out where Arata's taking those bags or what he's planning.

Arata comes back moments later looking pleased, hands empty of their luggage. "They're in safe hands!" he exclaims hurriedly, almost sounding excited. "Now, follow me Hoshihara, we're going on an adventure!"

"You have got to be kidding me."

They hitch a ride in a taxi and he didn't bother asking Arata where they're heading. Hopefully wherever it is, it won't be someplace weird. And knowing Arata's impulsiveness, it could be anywhere.

His blue eyes gaze out the window, chin propping his hand up. The unfamiliar buildings and people whizz past as the car shoots down the barely filled streets. It's a different feeling from when he was in the train; it feels stranger and a bit intimidating. Arata is sitting beside him instead of in front and neither makes any effort in a conversation, positively aware of the third set of ears that are able to hear them loud and clear—which is totally bizarre, considering that they have nothing to hide and the taxi driver is no more than a taxi driver to them.

When the car stops he steps out after the redhead; the first thing he notices is the strong wind. The second is the large sea. The third, 'We're at a beach.'

He turns to look at Arata, who's talking to the taxi driver and handing him a few bills. The redhead approaches him after the taxi drives off. "What do you think?" Arata asks, grinning. He looks around, hands hidden in pockets, and says, "I thought it'd be nice to visit here first, clear our thoughts, y'know?"

"I can't deny it is beautiful…" he says, eyes taking in the astounding scenery. He had grown fond of beaches over the years of living on an island. And this beach, though faraway, reminded him of the place he once called home. Nostalgia sweeps him like the waves to the sand and briefly he dearly misses Kamui Island.

The beach has almost no other occupants, excluding a handful of joggers and locals walking their dogs. The sand is hard and stable from where they're standing but once they walk closer to the waves, it softens and then hardens again due to the waters. The blond inches closer towards the edge and he can hear Arata following him from behind.

"I told the taxi driver to come back in two hours. We've got enough time to look around." Arata says, stretching his arms and taking a deep breath. "The air is nice here, isn't it?"

The blond nods in response. He recalls the days where he used to take lone walks on the beaches of Kamui, sometimes just doing nothing but sit on the sand and stare into the city by the horizon. Occasionally someone would join him—Sakuya, Haruki, Muraku or even Yuno—but most of the time it'd just been him and his thoughts.

"I used to do this a lot back in Kamui," the blond starts. "During sundown, you could see the city tinted orange and pink… It's breathtaking."

Arata's face lights up at this. "You have to take me there one day! I mean, I can go myself, but that'd be pretty boring and I wouldn't even know my way around."

Just as Arata says that, a gust of wind meets them—causing the blond's long hair to dance and tangle. He frowns in discomfort over it because now he forgot what he was going to say to Arata. It doesn't matter either way, when a splash of water hits his face.

"What the—?!"

A surge of surprise jolts him. He hears Arata laughing as he roughly dries his face with his sleeves. When his vision clears, he sees Arata in the water, his shoes dangling over his shoulder, pants rolled up and a giant grin on the redhead's face. He can't fathom when the redhead got himself in that condition.

"You damned—!" he curses, throwing his shoes aside and getting into the water. He swings his foot and a big splosh greets Arata, who fails to avoid the wave and screams in surprise. He smiles proudly at his counterattack. But then he figures he regrets it later, when Arata returns with a fiercer wave—wetting the entire upper half of his body.

"Ha-ha! Serves you right!" Arata laughs. He doesn't fail to notice when the blond begins to creep closer to him with an ominous aura, causing him to make a run for it. "W-Wait, Hoshihara, wait! I'm sorry! I'm sorry!"

"Don't think I'm letting you off easy!"

By the time the hour ticked past, the both of them are wet through and through. They sit under the shade of a tree to avoid the afternoon heat. While Arata's arranging their shoes under the sunlight, the blond is struggling to wring his shirt.

"You do realize the taxi driver is not going to let us in his car in this condition," he says to the redhead as he leans against the tree.

Arata sits next to him. "Maybe we can get a new set of clothes from one of those shops over there," he says. Arata notices the sprinkle of sand in the blond's hair as he wrings it and smiles apologetically. "Sorry I dragged you into the water with me."

"You tripped over your own feet. I think I can understand why you suddenly grabbed me," he says, giving an unnoticeable smile back. He slides onto the ground slowly, feeling the tiredness take control of him. Maybe he can take a few winks. It's so nice here under the tree… Shady and… cool…

"We should probably go now," Arata says, trying to remember the way to the clothes store he saw earlier but when he turns his head to look at the blond, his eyes are already closed and his breathing is slow. Don't tell me… he fell asleep…?

"Hoshihara?" he tries again, shaking the blond's shoulders softly. No response. Yeah, he's asleep. He must be really tired.

He finds himself smiling. He's never seen Hoshihara laugh like just now. For some reason he always look like he's frowning or worried over something big. Only on some occasions does he smile and look at ease. It's a nice change to see him act more… cheerful. Arata knows he's been a sourpuss the past few weeks too so maybe this little vacation is exactly what both of them need.

Huh, they've been sharing the same apartment for months now, and yet they're still on a last names basis. One of them needs to take the initiative. He could but for some reason he feels like Hoshihara wouldn't like it…

He doesn't know. It's just a nagging feeling.

Nothing's stopped him before in all his other encounters with his friends. But when he met him for the first time that day, something clicked. And that something has been pecking at him ever since. He just can't lay a finger on why.

Why it won't let him have the courage to call Hoshihara by his given name.

Oh shit, they need dry clothes.

It took him a number of steps later to realize that he can't leave him here. Hoshihara's like, vulnerable and stuff! He's not calling him weak, not at all, but he's asleep and he's a stranger to the area. Anything could happen. And most of the possibilities aren't exactly keen to Arata.

What should I do…? I don't want to wake him up, definitely not wake him up. Maybe if I'm quick enough…

He walks slowly, his sights lingering on Hoshihara for the longest time.

He opens his eyes, surprised to be blinded by a bright light. Instinctively the blond raises his arms to protect his eyes. Why is he standing? No, more appropriately, where is he standing…?

With a few quick blinks, he looks around, noting that everything around him is… Kamui.

Ah, that's right. He's in school, in front of class 2-5. Homeroom should be starting now, right? He should go in and take his seat. But when he slides the door open, he sees no one.

Not a single person is in class.

Strange. He's never been the first student in class before. But he's sure he left the manor the same time he usually did. So, why? Where is everyone? Did he miss an important memo?

Regardless, the blond walks in and closes the door behind him. Maybe sooner or later a familiar face will pop in, greeting him good morning and etcetera. Besides, even if there was a memo or notification, Haruki would've told him.

Speaking of Haruki, where is he? They usually come to school together, the entire First Platoon. This… feels weird.

He walks towards his seat, noting his reflection in the window in surprise. His hair is long and untied, stopping around his waist. He's wearing the Jenock uniform but with a blue jacket underneath the blazer.

Arata's jacket.

This is strange. Why would he wear the redhead's jacket? Not only that, he looks… older too—taller and older, like an adult. He can't think of rhyme and reason why everything is like this. Is this really Kamui? What day is it even?

Everything clicks into place.

No, this can't be right. He can't be in Kamui. He's supposed to be in Tokio City working under Cyber Lance. He shouldn't be here. He couldn't be here.

A wind blows from behind him, and with it, his hair drifts into his face. Some stray strands find their way into his mouth.

"Hikaru…"

He stifles a gasp. A dreading feeling creeps up from deep inside him, his heartbeat gradually speeding up. He feels a lump in his throat and tries to swallow it down. That voice, it couldn't be…?

He turns around and he sees him. He sees Arata standing there, with his head down and eyes closed. "Ara… ta…?" he says the name slowly, as if tasting and savouring it before it completely left his mouth.

For how long now? For how long hasn't he said that name? The mere thought itself caused his spine to shiver.

The redhead lifts his head and opens his eyes, and the blond knows instantly something isn't right. Something's different. He can see that this Arata holds no glint in his eyes, that childish playful glint. It's gone. He gets even more worried when Arata's forehead crease and his mouth turn downward. Is something the matter? Did something bad happen?

He struggles to ask Arata, "What's wrong?" and he swears his voice nearly cracked.

Arata merely stares at him. For some reason, he's beginning to get cold feet. Why isn't Arata answering? This is unusual. He'd like some answers right now and he's not even sure if it's out of curiosity, worry or fear. None of the three seem like the best emotion at the current moment.

"Why…? Why didn't you tell me?" Arata speaks, softly, tremulously, and he sounds miserable.

He can feel his heartbeat jumping faster and his stomach lurching at the redhead's words. Not in the good way too. This is overwhelming. He can't even answer Arata's question because he's not sure if he should answer. It feels like Arata already knows everything he never told him and he feels naked.

"That day you moved in, you already knew it was me, didn't you?" Arata starts and his hard tone startles the blond. "You already knew I'd be in there, waiting for a new flatmate, you, be completely clueless about whom you are and make a complete fool out of myself."

"No!" he almost shouts. That isn't true. That isn't even half-true. "Arata, I…"

By then Arata's eyes are watering and his jaw is clenched tight. "I trusted you. I thought you'd treat me better than that. Better than leading me to believe you were some stranger who I'd be sharing an apartment with and not someone from a life I've forgotten I had."

It feels like his whole world is crumbling, and that he himself can fall into a messy heap at this very moment, if he does nothing to save what little remnant of this fantasy he has left.

"That's not—!"

But he didn't get the chance to explain himself. Arata's figure breaks into a million pieces out of the blue and so does the faux Kamui Daimon classroom he's in. The pieces fall from his sight, leaving emptiness inside himself that he knows what it is.

In the same time he'd rather not know.

Arata's hurt expression lingers in his memory like a tattoo. The quavering words ring in his ears like an echo. All of this has made him sick to the stomach; he drops onto the floor, if it is even a floor in the first place, and finds his hand covering his mouth. He's not sure if it's to stop the bile from coming up or to stop himself from screaming hysterically.

That's not how he wanted Arata to find out. That's not how he wanted Arata to remember who he was to him. All the effort he put into earning Arata's trust again… All of it doesn't matter in the end. How did Arata find out? When did he find out? Has he kept it a secret for a while, or did he come looking for him the minute he knew? Arata… Arata, Arata… Arata…!

A heavy weight pulls him down to his knees and he's screaming with tears flowing from his eyes. There's no turning back for him now, everything's too late. Arata would never accept his apology. Not even if he begs. The sin he's committed isn't worthy of forgiveness. He can't redeem himself, nothing he does can offer it.

He's guilty for life.

There's a shake on his shoulder and he feels himself falling sideways. The sudden jolt causes his eyes to pry open, only to squint as the Sun shines from behind the red-haired man in front of him—his shadowed face creasing in worry.

"Ara…ta…" his voice comes out lower than a whisper and he holds his own head at the throbbing migraine. He groans and closes his eyes. What happened…? Where is he…?

"Hoshihara…? Are you alright…?"

Arata's voice brings him back to reality and his eyes snap open in realization. He and Arata are in Fukushima, not an alternate Kamui Daimon. Arata still doesn't know about his… secret. A dream… it was all… a dream.

Just thinking about it brings relief and, to his dismay, more guilt in his heart.

"I…" he swallows. "I'm fine." He will be once he forgets about the dream. Which, by now, he probably won't. Maybe not for a long time.

Arata pulls away from the blond, still looking concerned. There's a plastic bag in the other's hand and he wonders when or where did the redhead get it.

"Can you walk? I bought us some clothes to wear at a souvenir shop. We can change in the public restrooms over there." Arata asks, taking hold of the blond's hand as he stands.

"Yes, I'm pretty sure I can walk." He replies, but Arata still looks worried. Did he mumble in his sleep? Did he say anything weird? Worse, did he cry? "What did you get me?" he quickly asks, to avoid any chances of Arata asking anything. He manages to add with a small forced smile, "Not a Hawaiian t-shirt, I hope."

"Um…" Arata scratches the back of his neck. "Not… exactly…" he utters, looking away. Hesitantly, he pulls out a badly coloured floral design t-shirt. That has the old meme of the doge face on the front.

The blond swipes the shirt from Arata's hands and throws it into his face.

The sun is setting when they finally check in, hungry and tired. Their room is a modest one, big enough for three people if they squeeze in another single bed. Arata takes the lead and jumps onto the bed nearest to the balcony first, heaving a sigh of relief at the soft sensation of the mattress under him.

The blond has a small smile on his face as he watches the redhead roll around on the bed like a child, anticipating the moment Arata will drop on the floor. He shakes his head and walks over to the balcony, pulling aside the curtains to reveal the view.

Their room is close to the top of the building, so he can see the sky above and the city below just fine. The sun's orange rays shine into their room, almost blinding him. He squints, staring at the rooftops of local households. Being high up, it's no wonder to him he could also see the mountains ahead.

Everything, everything is tinted orange.

He closes his eyes and takes a breath.

The dream from earlier comes to mind again and the hold he has on the curtain tightens. His chest tightens along with it, almost like a hand intruded his body and is squeezing his heart with an iron grip. He slowly opens his eyes and stares into his reflection in the window.

Ah, the face he's making right now… what an ugly face. Has he always looked that tired? Or is it because of the travelling? Not even the beautiful scene spread in front of him can cheer him up. Maybe he should go to bed early tonight. What about dinner…? Oh, he could care less about dinner. He'll eat a lot during breakfast tomorrow. He just wants to rest now.

He just wants to momentarily escape his reality.

He sits on his bed, not quite ready to hit the hay yet. He decides he'll take a much needed shower first, but then he sees Arata bringing his backpack onto his bed and unzipping. The blond keeps to his silence as Arata takes out a glass bottle and… a syringe?

Arata notices him looking and stops his movements. He grins sheepishly. "Ah… I didn't tell you, did I?"

The blond's eyebrows furrow. "Tell me what?"

"Well, I, uh… have a medical condition…?" Arata starts his words hesitantly, scratching his cheek. It's obvious from his face that he's trying to form proper sentences in his head so he won't say anything wrong or confusing. "I'm not sure how it works since I'm not a science man, but I've been told that I need lots of sugar in my system or my brain will shut down…? But since too much sugar will get me diabetes, I need to take insulin shots regularly too." He shakes the glass bottle he took out earlier in the air, seemingly done with his explanation.

For the other male, he feels like he had just found the last piece of a large puzzle.

Overload.

Arata's talking about overload.

The emotion he's feeling right now is akin to when you see something fragile fall and you know just before it hits the floor that it'll be break into millions of tiny pieces and you're not fast or close enough to save it, only capable of watching it reach its despairing demise in a frozen state of time.

Only in this situation, nothing actually breaks and he's left staring at Arata and the bottle he's holding and feeling so completely ridiculous at the fact that he has absolutely, terrifyingly, forgotten about Arata's state of mental health that has caused ruckus back in the day.

He didn't completely forget about it, per say. He simply left the notion be in the far crevices of his mind, the same way you always see your nose but your brain elects to ignore it because, hey, why keep thinking about something you're used to, right?

That's the reasoning he has to defend his mistake but for the life of him he can't find it in him to forgive himself. The list of sins he commits against Arata grows longer and he can feel it deep in his stomach that it'll only grow longer, never shorter, because he can't find it in him to apologize.

Especially when Arata doesn't even know the wrongs he's done to him.

"I can't really remember what it's called, but it doesn't really matter as long as I'm not dying, right?" Arata laughs, placing the bottle on the bed again. "So, dinner. Wanna call room service or should we head down?"

It takes him half a second later to answer, the time being used to recompose his thoughts. "Right... Dinner. Let's call room service."

Arata complies with his wishes without another word.

In the dark of the room, when he's sure that Arata is sleeping soundly, the blond lies awake in his bed; a million thoughts are preventing him from a visit to Dream Land. He keeps his stare on the ceiling, not that he could see it in the first place. He pretends he's staring into an abyss instead, one where he can't find where it ends.

At least, that's what he feels like.

One blow after the other, it's like he can't catch a break in this place. This is supposed to be a vacation—a holiday from hectic miserable life. They haven't even been here for 24 hours and he already wants to go back home.

Not like going home could solve his problems either; it'll just delay the progress of things.

He turns to lie on his side, facing Arata. He can barely see the other's silhouette covered under the blankets, but he can still see him nonetheless. It's not like its pitch black in here.

It doesn't take him long to realize this setting is almost the same as how their dorm room used to be back in Kamui. Two single beds—only this time, he's actually paying attention.

Back then he never really thought of how Arata looked like asleep; never really cared. The only time he was worried about Arata's sleeping patterns… was when Seledy took over the school and started 'killing' their friends. He remembers watching Arata's back in the moonlight, knowing that the redhead couldn't sleep and wanting to comfort the boy to lift his spirits.

Not one idea came to mind. He couldn't do anything that night but wish silently for things to get better.

He never was very useful compared to Arata, was he? He's sure if their positions were reversed back then, Arata… Arata would've definitely known what to say. Words fail the blond when he tries to be honest—he's not even sure if he ever does anything to make up for it.

His eyelids droop against his eyes tiredly, half-forgetting his line of thought. Arata looks so comfortable on the other bed, so relaxed and peaceful… a contrast to a memory he has in the back of his mind. His eyes don't leave the redhead's silhouette. He wonders how it'll feel to touch Arata's hair, to caress his face; to hold his body close.

How will it feel like…? He wants know. He fails to see why he shouldn't. A harmless touch, one that will—his eyes widen. The blond stops his outstretched hand from going any further. He freezes in place, trying to comprehend what the Hell just happened.

Had he really tried to touch Arata whose a whole feet away on another bed? There has to be some kind of law against things like that. Why was he so desperate anyway? He doesn't understand.

Yes, he misses this. He misses sleeping in the same room as Arata, miss having to wake him up for the mornings—but that's from a long time ago. He should have moved on from that. His priority is to get Arata's memories back; not being a pervert.

He pulls his hand back into the covers and turns around to face the other side. Sleep is better than thinking about this.