Being quiet was easy. Kaito was thought to be loud, vibrant, effusive in the world to get every eye on him, but in reality, it was an act. Everything, Kaito found, could be an act if you approached it that way. There was a time to be bright and eye-catching. Loud and cheerful and something you couldn't look away from.
And there was a time to be silent, still, movement like cat paw-steps in a muffled room.
To be silent, you needed precise muscle control. Control over your limbs. Control over your breathing. Control over the force spent in movement down to each curl of muscle and tendon. Kaito could jump his height's distance and land with barely a whisper. He could slide behind someone, right at their heels, and they wouldn't even notice he was there, and this was a skill he'd built over years. A magician needed that muscle control as much as a gymnast, a dancer, a thief might. Kaito was an artist and his body was his instrument, and he knew how to play it perfectly.
That was why Kaito could move through the room without leaving the slightest sound of his passing to wake its sleeping occupant.
Aoko was curled on her side, a pillow hugged against her chest and a foot hanging out from under her blanket. She always slept messily like that; like there was too much energy in her that even sleep couldn't hold her still. At least she was on a futon on the floor and not sharing the bed like when they were children. Kaito had a vivid memory of being kicked out of his own bed from her tossing and turning.
…She was going to be mad at him.
Tomorrow, Aoko would wake up alone, the remnants of their sleepover still evident in the snack bags in the trash bin and the pile of DVDs they'd shuffled through to pick the best movie. It had been fun. It had been familiar. It had been something they hadn't done much of since reaching high school, and Kaito regretted that he'd let his crush on her put distance between them.
Now he was going to put much more distance.
Kaito paused in the doorway. His breathing was even, his muscles under control, but it seemed like his eyes didn't get the memo because the dim room wavered before the burn of tears slid down his cheeks. Crying. What use was crying?
The air in his lungs wanted to hitch, but Kaito had too much control for that. Even though it felt like forcing stone to bend, he turned away from Aoko's sleeping face.
There were too many threats now. More than Kaito could deal with, and so many that there was a real risk of collateral happening. He had to leave. Had to. Because Aoko was someone he couldn't handle dying, especially not because of him, and he would vanish forever, like the worst sort of stage magic, if it meant keeping her safe.
Kaito was quiet, and being quiet was easy, even if it meant walking out of everything he loved with tears dripping down his face and his heart breaking behind him.