If only they had arrived at a different time and not at rush hour. Residents, silent or murmuring on their phones, flanked their sides. Michiru could feel the weight of the day's work heavy on their shoulders, greying their hearts.
The red digits in the tiny black box before them continued to grow smaller and smaller.
"Is there really no one waiting for you?" Haruka asked quietly.
A couple of people around them raised their gazes from their phones, mistaking the question as for them.
Michiru shook her head. She paused. "My housekeeper leaves before I arrive, but there is always a fresh meal waiting."
"Is it warm?"
"Sometimes."
"I see."
The number hit 1 and the doors opened.
"I can't decide if that's depressing or a relief," Haruka murmured. By the pinky, she gently pulled Michiru out of the way of the trickle of people from the elevator. Michiru pressed closer than she needed to.
"Neither can I."
They were the last to step in and after Michiru pressed the second-to-top floor, they moved into a corner.
A few glances came Haruka's way, taking a millisecond to size up her short hair and foreign appearance but Michiru, as always slipped past any suspicion.
As always, the elevator played quiet jazz tunes.
"Have you always lived here?" Haruka asked. Michiru could tell she still hadn't mastered being silent in Japanese public spaces.
"No. I moved in a few months ago." It was pleasant to finally have a simple conversation. "Are your parents home with you? Or is it just Kai?" Michiru realized only after she asked the question that it was rude of her to assume Haruka had a comfortable relationship with her parents, but to her relief Haruka laughed softly.
The elevator hit its first stop and a passenger stepped out.
"Oh, it's almost never just Kai. My parents aren't over, but some of siblings and nieces are constantly rotating through. The lemons I assaulted you with? Yeah, those are from my niece Mirai—" Haruka's voice briefly grew strained at the mentioned of her name. Michiru grew alert, but Haruka carried on, "Who I'm confident is setting up a lemonade MLM."
The doors opened once more and a couple trickled out.
"And I'm sure you're her closest advisor." Michiru said solemnly.
"Naturally." When Haruka cocked her a grin, Michiru pressed her lips together and resisted the urge to roll her eyes away. But she did catch Haruka's eyes shining nonetheless.
The second to last person exited.
Both shifted slightly, unfurling with the new space and becoming keenly aware that there were ten flights between Michiru's floor and the second glowing button.
"I'm going to take an educated guess and say you don't have any siblings."
"No."
"Yeah, you seem like an only child," Haruka said after her eyes scaled Michiru.
"Pardon?" Michiru raised a brow.
Over their shoulder, the person before them glanced back.
Haruka lowered her head by the ear which Michiru leaned in. "You don't share your space well with others," she murmured.
Michiru angled her head back. "I seem to share it just fine with you," she countered quietly.
Something about seeing Haruka's cheeks color stirred Michiru.
"Well, I'm the exception that proves the rule," Haruka whispered.
The elevator stopped smoothly. The tune changed.
In their periphery, the last person scurried out and before the doors could close, Haruka's lips were resting upon hers.
It was scarier this time— feeling this surge in her body. The blood roared in her veins. She felt like a melody, a string meticulously plucked again and again.
And as clumsy as her lips and hands felt, she felt like grace personified when Haruka's hand settled on her waist and her tongue slipped against her own.
Michiru's breath caught and her hands fumbled to the crook of Haruka's arm. She squeezed it desperately as Haruka did it again. Michiru would be lying if she said she had never noticed how sculpted Haruka's arms looked, but she had never expected them to feel so firm and warm.
A soft beep announced their arrival, but when Haruka moved to pull away, Michiru whispered, "No."
On her tiptoes, she raised herself up so she could cup Haruka's face. And Haruka let her.
At some point they stumbled out, never breaking. At some point they whispered and redirected, never breaking. At some point, Michiru's back was against her door and Haruka's hand was up her shirt, never breaking.
There was a trail of goosebumps running after the brush of Haruka's fingertips. There was a shaking exhale when legs threaded through each other, and a skirt rode up.
"Haruka," Michiru whispered breathlessly. Her mind was spinning, but it wasn't a dizzying feel— she felt like a ballerina, with her focus- Haruka- keeping her grounded.
"Yes?" Haruka murmured, pulling just far away enough to let Michiru see her flushed cheeks, shiny eyes and glossy lips. It was the redness of Haruka's lips, couple with the half-conscious claw-like grip she latched on Michiru's waste, that stirred something feral in Michiru. Never had Michiru known true hunger, but now she felt like some fiendish starved vampire, overwhelmed with the need to sink not just her lips upon Haruka's skin.
"I like this," she whispered with a shaking quietness that was a result of her spiraling thoughts and not of any demureness. "I like how this feels."
Haruka's breath hitched. And then she kissed Michiru so hard Michiru's knees almost gave out.
She sunk her weight against her front door and opened her mouth eagerly in greeting to Haruka's tongue. And she met it. Uncertainly but hungrily, she pushed back.
As currently graceless as her fumbling hands and inexperienced tongue felt, Michiru knew she should have been more nervous. But she was a quiet girl, not a shy one. Shame was a waste of time slid and pushed against her, suddenly overwhelmed with the urge to cry. How had she not known? How had she spent so many years of her life next to sweet warm bodies like this and never knew how good they felt? Or was it just Haruka?
Michiru gasped and broke the kiss when Haruka knee pressed firmly in-between her legs.
Was it just sweet Haruka?
The short corridor was normally so silent, but Haruka had heightened all of Michiru's senses: she heard murmurs of her neighbors' giggles, mumbles of music and muted rings of clinking glasses.
And when Haruka's mouth fell on Michiru's dumbly exposed neck Michiru, to her own surprise, cried out.
"What was that?" she heard promptly after. The muffled voice was horrifying familiar.
"Har-Haruka," Michiru gasped as her hands moved to fumble at her sides.
"What?" came a breath upon the curve of her neck, where Haruka's tongue drew a wicked shiver.
"I'm… my… my muh—" but Michiru couldn't finish the word. In her haze, she pressed down the handle, which should've been locked, and the door behind her flung open.
A fall that lasted all but one second slowed. Haruka's eyes widened as Michiru suddenly sank away. So unused to the possibility that there was someone to grab, that Michiru's arms didn't reach out for Haruka. But Haruka still fell with her. With reflexes that even impress a guardian, Haruka lunged to cradle the back of Michiru's head.
With a loud thonk Michiru's back hit her shining white floors. With a grunt, Haruka caught herself on one arm, sparing Michiru from feeling the slam of her full weight upon her.
And there was a buzz. A buzz that canceled the whole world out as Michiru kept falling. Falling deeper and deeper into the tides behind Haruka's eyes.
"Michiru!" her mother exclaimed.
She stole one more survey of Haruka's face— lips parted, face flushed, and eyes filled with just as much yearning.
The ringing stopped. The scrambling and rambling began. Haruka rose with a grunt and helped Michiru up just as Michiru's mother rushed over. The first thing she did was start fussing over Michiru's hair and skirt— dusting them and smoothing them out.
"You didn't warn me you were visiting," Michiru said just as her mother demanded to know what happened.
Michiru dropped Haruka's hand the instant she caught her mother's sideways glance.
"I accidentally—" Michiru said.
"My fault—" Haruka began.
Both of them looked at each other and hesitated, inclined to let the other go first.
Luckily, attention to their poor coordination of an explanation was stolen when the second unexpected guest made his appearance at Michiru's mother's side.
"My goodness, are you two alright? That was quite a tumble!" his face was familiar and he had a sweet smile that made the tip of Michiru's tongue itch with a name.
"Inojin!" Haruka exclaimed with a shaky smile. In the aftermath of adrenaline and embarrassment, Haruka seemed to forget what longitude she was at, for her hand instinctively reached out in a handshake. It was quickly followed by a rushed deep dip of the head for a bow. Uncertainly, Inojin took her hand and mimicked the awkward movement.
"Unexpected to see you here," Haruka rushed to say.
"The sentiment is mutual!" Inojin laughed, "I didn't know you two were such friends! Sweet of you to support her work so generously."
"Support her work?" Michiru's mother, never one for silence, echoed with a hint of a frown. If her forehead hadn't been so botoxed, it would have surely furrowed.
The confusion in her voice seemed to puzzle Inojin.
"Oh, he's just referring to when I acquired Michiru's painting from the show."
"Oh, I see," Michiru's mom nodded with an exaggerated smile. It was too easy to see the complete lack of recognition in her eyes. Michiru was sure her father would have remembered the debacle and of all of the woes that were tied to it. But by the looks of it, he wasn't here and Michiru wrestled her disappointment down.
"And is that when you two met or —?"
"Yes," Michiru rushed to say.
Quick to catch on, Haruka added, "She was determined to meet the one other person that had as gloomy taste in art."
Michiru looked up and over her shoulder at Haruka. "Yes, because you are, in fact, the only teenager with a taste for the dark and moody."
"Well certainly only one on that boat. Had you seen how pink all those dresses were?"
"Didn't you hear? Pink is the new black."
"Well, I'm a bit behind on my Japanese Vogue."
Inojin had chuckled, but Michiru's mother cleared her throat to interject.
"I'm sorry dear," she said and reached out to step in between the charged space between the young girls. She set a manicured hand to Haruka's elbow. The hair on the back of Michiru's neck rose when she caught Haruka flinch. Was she hurt? Did she bang her elbow during the fall?
"I'm afraid I completely missed your name. Even after the whole debacle, it's quite impolite to forget to introduce a new friend."
Michiru resisted the urge to groan at her mother. But Haruka, without the slightest hint of being miffed, smiled and said, "Haruka Tenoh, ma'am." This time, she just bowed her head.
"Tenoh?" Mrs. Kaioh eyes lit up, "Any association with Tenoh Industries by chance?"
Haruka chuckled. "All the associations imaginable. My father's the founder. It's the our small family business."
Too intensely, smile beamed from ear to ear. "Does the family include any brothers?" she asked coquettishly.
"Mother," Michiru said sharply.
Haruka grinned. "Too many. Should I lend you one?"
Miraculously, Michiru's mother laughed. "Oh, no, not me," she swatted playfully at Haruka. "Sadly, I'm spoken for. But Michiru…" That didn't stop Michiru's mother from adjusting her hair.
It was then that Michiru narrowed her eyes and inspected the energy. Were they flirting? Michiru wanted to retch. Haruka was understandable, Michiru couldn't remember the last time she hadn't seen the girl tossing a line to an innocent bystander—but her Mother?
"Mother," Michiru interjected again. "Any reason we are clustered here?"
"Yes," her mother answered smoothly, "because you have yet to guide us to the couch."
Michiru bit her tongue from reminding her mother that she had arrived, unannounced, to her apartment, to set up her own little unexplainable soiree, with a man half her age and almost twice Michiru's age, upon Michiru's couch.
Of course. Michiru dipped her head.
She chose not to meet Haruka's eyes. There was something excruciatingly embarrassing about Haruka witnessing Michiru's relationship with her mother. Whatever mystery and je ne sais quoi Michiru had cultivated with Haruka was sure to unravel by the end of the hour.
Michiru would see if Haruka would still find her attractive.
"Is your elbow alright, Haruka? You keep clutching it," Inojin spoke up, hovering at an awkward half squat above his claimed spot on the sofa, not decided on whether or not he should sit.
"Oh, I just tapped it."
"You should ice it," Michiru said. Too intent on not sounding overly concerned infront of her mother, the offer came out sounding sarcastic. She could tell Haruka was trying hard to read her. "I'll go get you some," Michiru quickly added.
"My, my, Michiru," her mother spoke up with distinct distaste, "When did you become such a busy body? Sit down. will grab some for your friend. Sit, sit. Living alone has made you far too agitated. It's like all your grace has evaporated with this dreadful heat."
Michiru bit her tongue. Not only would it be humiliating to bicker with her mother in front of Haruka, but Inojin was watching her with far more interest than she found comfortable.
So, she smiled, and sunk to sit in the seat her mother patted next to her— painfully far from Haruka.
"You had stay late?" Michiru asked, failing to not sound defensive. The woman had a family of her own to attend to.
Her mother nodded. "She's downstairs, I'm confident she'll be up shortly. Although God only knows what's taking her so long. I just hope it's bad congestion and not slacking on her part. Although that's impossible to prove in this day and age. A shame, don't you think, Inojn?"
While the man was forced to answer, Michiru and Haruka glanced at each with a mirrored sense of alarm. It wasn't as if they had stumbled into the lobby embracing. And it was impossible that had witnessed what happened in the elevator— yet both of them had the prickling sense that they had come dangerously close to a social blunder.
Michiru looked away. She wished that they hadn't been so in sync with their guilt. So, she had kissed Haruka in her own building. So what? It was the 21st century. She worked hard to stifle the anger.
"Oh, I'm fine, really," Haruka insisted, "I can step out. We— I didn't mean to interrupt anything."
"Oh nonsense. How am I ever to send you back to your parents with a hurt elbow. Sit, sit. What ever happened to patience? Or are you hurt that badly that you can't spare a few minutes to wait for the ice?"
"No, not at all." Haruka looked ready to protest some more, but Michiru's mother carried her head in such a way it was obvious to all that any argument would be futile.
Inojin began to rise, "If anyone is imposing then it must be me. I really—"
"Oh, Ms. Kon, you're here!" Michiru's mother clapped her hands sharply through the tension. Haruka and Michiru turned to see the elderly, but agile, housekeeper enter through the door they had just fallen through. hardly had the time to make a small startled bow to Michiru before her mother said, "Be so kind as to brew some tea for us and get this young lady some ice and anything else she might need."
Haruka dipped her head, deep, Michiru noticed, and introduced herself graciously to Ms. Kon. The housekeeper smiled and returned the gestures before guiding Haruka to the side kitchen. Michiru wanted to keep watching them. There was something in their interactions that made her heart swell.
But instead, she placed her attention on the the guest her mother invited and went through the proper apologies.
Inojin was quick to warm to her smile. He was a handsome enough man. But that's exactly what he was: a man. Easily in his late-20s, as far as Michiru could judge. Although an overly pleasant person, Michiru felt a dull repulsion at his eagerness to both reassure her of his fond opinion of her and maneuvering to sit in between her and her mother. Maneuvering was too sharp a word to call it; her mother was clearly encouraging the arrangement.
Crossing her ankles, Michiru finally inquired why he was there. She only heard her words in the distance, for her mind was spread, like butter, all over her body— soaking into the parts where the ghost of Haruka's touch still lingered. Her pulse couldn't quite stop throbbing.
Michiru almost missed Inojin's response from how intensely she had been straining to listen to Haruka and Ms. Kon. Something that the racer had said had made Ms. Kon laugh, something, Michiru realized, she wasn't sure she had ever heard.
"I came to personally extend an invitation that I believe you are incredibly deserving of, Michiru," Inojin said, his language remaining adorned with honorifics most wouldn't use when addressing someone younger.
With that announcement, Inojin reached into his blazer chest pocket and pulled out a blood red envelop with little more than a stamped "M" upon its center.
Graciously, Michiru accepted it with both hands. There was nothing that hinted at the nature of its contents. She found the color unsettling.
"Oh, an academy invite," Haruka's voice came from behind Michiru.
Michiru turned, as if softly shocked. When she saw Haruka by the couch, clutching an ice pack to her elbow, Michiru was consumed with the need to caress her. To touch her. To ask her how she was really feeling.
"Oh, you're familiar with them?" Inojin perked up.
"I received a couple," she answered in a sheepish way that made it clear she was discarding them without hesitation. Michiru grinned.
Inojin chuckled. "Well, I am not the least bit surprised! Your accomplishments for your age run only second to Michiru's."
Michiru didn't appreciate the snide ranking, but Haruka was quick to agree.
"May I open it?" Michiru asked.
"Of course, go ahead." Inojin dipped his head to indicate she could proceed without issue.
As she did so, her mother began to chatter. "It's unique. Application by invention only. Less than 1000 school aged students worldwide get the invite. Less than half of those will be accepted."
Michiru got the sense that her mother was irked at the prospect of someone else in the room having received such an exclusive invite.
"What a small school that will be," Michiru commented. And miserable. She couldn't picture the tiny classes. The overbearing attention from teachers and classmates. It's why she opted for her school. Prestigious, but sizable.
"You're right," Inojin said. "The founders believe in curating an environment where talent can flourish, where those that are gifted can dedicate their time to what truly matters."
He sounded genuinely passionate. Yet something made the hairs on the back of Michiru's neck rose. For some reason, she and Haruka exchanged another synchronized glance.
When Michiru's mother spoke up, Michiru knew she had caught, and wasn't pleased, with the exchanged look.
"Inojin," her mother set a hand on his shoulder, "had been asked to be as a curator for their art. During which he was kind enough to introduce the board to your paintings."
Inojin nodded.
"I've come here not only to extend you an invitation to the open house, but to ask you the favor of letting me display your work on the walls," he rushed to say, "You will be set by both contemporary and traditional artists alike."
With the lack of tact in his inquiry, Michiru was aware that most likely her mother had already promised him a deal.
She hummed, not eager but not particularly against the idea. "I'm flattered by the request alone. Thank you for the consideration. Which of my paintings would you be interested in?
"I already contacted the galleries," her mothered answered.
Inojin hesitated. "Well, I didn't think this was an option. But, Haruka, it's really fitting to see you here. Do you still have —"
"Yes, of course, but—"
"No," Michiru said sharply. No, that was to be left for Haruka's eyes only. She looked to Inojin, purposefully avoiding her mother's gaze. "Any other I would be more than willing to provide."
Inojin put on a weak smile. "I suppose we can iron out the details later. But I take this as a yes to the invitation."
Michiru didn't have time to hesitate, her mother set her hands together in one brisk clap. "Well, that's settled then! How wonderful!"
Inojin smiled at Michiru, seemingly picking up at mother-daughter dynamics.
"When is this again?" Haruka asked. Michiru fought every fiber of her being not to look over.
"This Sunday evening."
Inojin nodded. "Are we to expect to see you there as well? I hear it's going to be lovely, both with the music and the food. And the school is stunning."
Michiru tilted her head just a little over her shoulder. "I'm not sure if it carries the same excitement as Dubai."
Haruka gave her a weak, sheepish smile. She adjusted the ice at her elbow. "When you're right, you're right."
Michiru couldn't look at Haruka. Not with her guilty little smile. Not when she looked that cute. Michiru could only hope that Haruka didn't take her turning away as coldness.
Inojin's interest was perked by the Dubai and as he asked Haruka a few questions, Michiru and her mother silently conversed as well.
Michiru's mother dragged her eyes over Haruka and cocked her head to the side with a half frown. It was a loaded expression. Any woman that had her hair stop above her jaw was not a woman at all.
Michiru felt her core tighten under the inspection of her hawk-eyed and calculating mother.
Why should she care for her mother's approval? There was nothing to approve. Her and Haruka just kissed… yet there was something in Michiru that desperately longed to tell someone about the day's events. There was not a friend she could confess this to and her mother, who was always so inquisitive about Michiru's relationships with the opposite sex, made it clear she was also not an option as she sipped her tea with pursed lips.
Expertly, Michiru fought off the haunting of disappointment. It came easy when Haruka's laughter filled the room— she and Inojin had struck a common chord of giggles. In the near distance of foreign memories, Michiru recalled the sound of rolling clouds, twinkling wind chimes and soaring wings.
"Well, it's a shame," Inojin said with an earnest smile, "It would have been wonderful to see you there. I'm sure you would have been the life of the party. And dare I say, the school if you attended."
Haruka's gaze shifted to Michiru for just a heartbeat. "Ah, I doubt it. I'm sure everyone will be too busy staring at Michiru… Michiru's paintings to notice me."
In front of her mother, Michiru didn't dare to cross her legs and cup her chin as she wanted to, so she opted for brushing her hair over her shoulder as she replied, "Flattery won't get you any discounts."
Haruka's eyes shined as she smirked.
"Ah, Haruka, you've successes in commissioning Michiru?" Michiru's mother asked with sharp innocence, "I can't remember when she last entertained such a request."
It was clear both girls remembered Michiru's request for Haruka to model.
"No, nothing like that." Haruka ran her hands through her hair. "I wouldn't dream of anything like that."
"Sounds like you don't enjoy my daughters work, despite being one of the very limited few to own one."
"That's just because I got lucky. And if you ask Michiru, I'm sure it seems like I half stole the piece." Haruka muttered, "Truth is I don't know anything about art, just what I feel when I look at a painting. And I realize I've felt so little in my life until I've seen her work. It seems bizarre to request any artist to give me something to make me feel anything."
Something in Haruka's answer oddly warmed Michiru's mother.
"I should go. Early practice and all," Haruka said a beat later.
"Let me walk you." Michiru rose.
Together, in silence, they put on the shoe by the door. Haruka gave not just a deep bow to her mother and Inojin, but to Ms. Kon as well.
"Can I just say, your mother is really intimidating?" Haruka exhaled the second the door was closed.
"How is it?" Michiru immediately reached for the injured elbow. Gingerly she raised it to inspect.
Haruka took away the ice pack, leaving the skin glistening with slight droplets. Michiru battled the odd urge to kiss them away.
"More than fine, really. I have worse injuries from training alone, I promise."
"Oddly, not the most reassuring thing to hear."
Haruka cracked a grin. "You're one to talk."
There was something in her gaze that made Michiru want to lean in, to steal another kiss, but she couldn't risk it in front of her door.
So, she said, "I am," and took Haruka's good arm to guide her back to the elevator.
Despite her steady hold at the crook of Haruka's elbow, Michiru now found it hard to look at her.
"Thank you," Michiru said earnestly once she hit the elevator button.
When Haruka nodded and said, "Of course," and didn't make a quip, Michiru lifted her eyebrows in surprise. Haruka had a far-off look about her, eyes set to her apartment door.
"What is it?"
"Do you ever wander… if you knew anyone else too?"
Michiru shifted.
"There are others," she said gently. "They're just sleeping." Surely Haruka must've known that, picked up that their planetary associations went beyond just their two names.
Haruka shook her head. "No, not them." She nodded to the door. "Others."
Michiru now understood. She hummed. There was hope, longing in Haruka's face.
Haruka wanted to know about her siblings. About her parents. Her friends. How tightly their bounds ran. If she had known them in a previous life, if she might know them in the next one.
"I never thought about it. It makes no difference. A stranger today could have been a mother yesterday and a mother today could be a friend tomorrow." She waved her hand, hoping to relay the century difference she was picturing between yesterday and tomorrow. Without any given reason, she somehow knew Haruka understood.
The elevator dinged its arrival before the doors smoothly slid open. Haruka stepped in; Michiru hovered at the border.
"And do you think that's how we will return in the next life? As strangers?" Haruka asked while her back faced Michiru.
The question suddenly made Michiru weary, as if bags of recent memory were set on her shoulders. In a sweeping second, she recollected her premonitions, her failed attempts to save the souls of already so many, and Haruka's resilience against duty.
Michiru's expression must have been completely unguarded, as Haruka turned grave at its sight.
"There might not be any next life to return to," Michiru said what they already both knew.
The doors began to close.
Haruka stopped them with a hand. She set a foot on the elevator border. She stood tall over Michiru.
The silence lingered. The temptation to touch reached through their bodies, electrifying the air.
Michiru saw Haruka swallow when her eyes fell to her lips.
"In the next life," Haruka's lips, full of stubbornness in their shape and hope in their color, conjured, "would we not resume on the note we left off?"
How could either of them know until they lived it?
"I hope not. I, for one, would want to come back as strangers," Michiru whispered. It was too easy to see the disappointment and hurt in Haruka's heart at those words. She suppressed a smile. "Because I would want to do this again. This mess."
Haruka's lips pressed together, as if she was imprisoning words, she knew were criminal to say.
Michiru held her breath when she saw Haruka raise her hand. She exhaled softly when the back of Haruka's fingertips brushed her cheeks.
She pressed into the warmth. There was something dangerous blooming in Haruka's eyes.
"Thank you," Michiru said before Haruka could speak.
The taller furrowed her brow. "For what?"
Michiru took a half step closer, letting Haruka's hand fall to the curve of her neck.
"For strengthening my resolve," Michiru said firmly as she rose to her tippy toes. "I will fight to meet you again."
Whether it was from the kiss or from the words, Haruka's breath hitched. For too long they ignored the elevator's dinging protests.
It was becoming harder to tell: what were products of her own fantasies and what were memories.
The wings on Uranus' back were oddly heavy.
But maybe that was because these dreams felt thick, like walking through fog.
There were droplets in the air. Like a longer rain that never quite reached the ground.
It must've been hard for others to get to moss-covered black rocks set in the middle of the sea, but for them, riding on wind and waves, it came without issue.
Neptune was already there— body and tail wrapped in pearls. The feather that came loose when Uranus folded her wings was immediately picked up and played with.
Uranus smiled. Language hadn't been invented yet, but they understood each other as easily as in the future.
Shoulder to shoulder, they sat in sweet silence.
Through her eyes, Haruka watched time when she was still young, still a new friend.
The tranquility unsettled her. Didn't they know? Didn't they know it was all going to bleed?
The dream grew red.