His silence greets him, and it makes him smile. It seems silly, a cliché; yet there is more warmth in that gesture than words could have instilled. Approaching, she slowly reaches out her hand until her fingertips touch his blond hair. Kazuna then turns, and smiling, looks at him for a long time. She wears a calm simplicity that will perhaps always be a part of him – Tomohisa doesn't really care, not even when a few moments later she walks away and bows, complicit in the rules that protocol imposes. Only, perhaps, for an instant does her gaze darken; but there is no reproach for the excessive zeal that her knight shows, and in fact she melts in the moment that follows – because in the face of his smile it would be foolish not to.
"Shouldn't you be at the party, Your Grace?" she says, and only then does she dare to raise her head again and establish eye contact with him. A snort leaves his lips – light though, because he's amused; he lowers his body until it reaches his height, and on the contrary, he rests his knees on the ground.
"Shouldn't you too?" he whispers, taking his face in his hands. It's a gesture that transmits sweetness in every single part of it, after which the other naturally lowers his gaze.
"You know I don't particularly appreciate parties." Even his tone of voice is reduced to little more than a whisper. Nothing more than this is necessary.
For a few moments, Tomohisa is silent. He looks at him and does nothing more – he only softens his expression further, and slowly rests his forehead against his; Kazuna doesn't restore eye contact, but he doesn't seem to mind, proving that he wasn't expecting anything different.
"I know you've always been a terrible liar, Kazu."
Again, they remain silent. It is only a few moments later and with a hint of shyness, that the Japanese delicately places his hands on his and starts looking at him again. He even tilts his head, to enjoy that caress more.
"... If they saw you paying me such attentions–"
"Let them talk."
That is enough for Kazuna, a sentence that in its simplicity has the power to shake him completely. The other's sentence does not allow any reply, and yet it is not as an order that he receives it – resolution, if anything. And then he breathes and chuckles softly, still with that courtesy typical of him; but then he breaks the contact, and the idyll seems to end. He gets back on his feet, but holds out his hand and does not move until he takes it.
"You have always been reckless."
"Isn't that why you are next to me?"
As he stands, he can't help but chuckle at the embarrassment that is clearly making its way onto his face, and which Kazuna hastens to try to conceal as quickly as possible, turning his gaze to the starry sky. Still holding his hand, the British prince changes the contact from an innocent squeeze to an intertwining of his fingers with his - a more discreet gesture, in line with the tastes of others. This time, Kazuna doesn't move away; and although he doesn't stop observing the stars, he returns his squeeze almost immediately. It acquires a nuance of faint intimacy.
The discussion breaks off, however. Whether it's due to embarrassment, or because it's not necessary to say anything else, is difficult to say, and in the eyes of both of them it makes little difference. They enjoy each other's company in that silence that they have learned to make their own over the years, and that was their only way of communicating until the opportunity arose for Kazuna to become something more than just an honorary Briton. It is an affection that is at times awkward, at times childish - an affection that, as it grows in intensity day after day, still maintains at its base the innocence of a childhood put aside too soon.
Tomohisa likes to watch him. He could spend hours like this, immersed in the silence of the gardens of the Governor's Palace, accompanying himself only by the sound of the song of those cicadas that as a boy so attracted his curiosity because they were typical of a climate so different from that of his homeland; with the passage of time he has learned to appreciate their beauty, to give a name to their songs. It is an almost fairy-tale scene. The stars shine in the sky, and the garden where they are found is dressed with scented flowers; the cicadas sing of them, for them. And it is as if the ugliness of the world vanished completely, and they lived in a dimension of absolute peace and quiet where even the most tired of hearts would be able to find comfort.
He learned long ago that dreams are ephemeral. And yet, for a brief and self-serving moment, he dares to hope that that moment will last a little longer. Just a little longer.
"Were you thinking about the past?" He squeezes his hand a little tighter, and in his slight smile, Tomohisa shakes his head. He does this even though Kazuna does not look at him directly, knowing that he would have seen him anyway, and if he had not, he would have perceived it. Kazuna's gaze would always be able to reach him, wherever he was and whatever mask he wore – he would always see him for what he really was.
In his eyes, for him and with him, he would always be Tomohisa and nothing more than that.
"Yes and no." a pause. "I thought... that there is peace."
"You said it when we met, too. That you were surprised because the air in Japan was light." is the answer, and this time it's Kazuna who smiles. He turns to him, an indirect request to start walking. The other doesn't mind, already aware of the place he intends to reach – the shade of the large oak tree that stands in the center of the garden, far from the prying eyes of those who, looking out from one of the palace windows, could have inadvertently appropriated moments that they both wanted to remain theirs alone. He continues after a short pause, and in his light green eyes he notices a hint of nostalgic sweetness. "You weren't a pretender to the throne back then. And Area 11 still had its old name."
"Do you think it was simpler before?"
"Partly."
They don't say anything else until they reach their destination. The palace is still visible to their eyes, but the trunk provides them with enough shelter and support that the same cannot be said of those still busy with the celebrations. Still holding his hand, Tomohisa pulls him to him; and Kazuna lets him do so, leaning his cheek on his shoulder after they have both sat down. Even through the branches of the evergreen the stars can still be seen, but for a moment neither of them pays attention; they are lost in a world of their own, far from the insults of the palace, from the war that rages. Even from the death that both of them have brought upon themselves, in different ways and ways.
With his free hand he strokes his hair, and the other half closes his eyes. Kazuna reveals a vulnerability that only he is aware of, and that he has long since discovered he is jealous of; it is unhealthy, he has said at times. The desire to possess every single thing about him, every single aspect of him. The desire for him to be by his side even in the realization of an ambition that would have led them both down a path from which they would never be able to turn back.
«… Neh, Kazu. Do you think what I want for this world is wrong?"
He moves his hand in hers, and with his thumb he caresses the back of it. His eyes are still half-closed, and his voice is calm, devoid of nuances.
"Are you asking me as a prince or as Tomohisa?" and he almost jumps, and immediately stops the caress. Kazuna finds it amusing, even if he doesn't show it right away and simply waits for what, for them, is an almost daily exchange. There is a very particular beauty in gestures like that – simple, yet irreplaceable.
The prince's "I would never ask you for something using my role as–" is nipped in the bud by his bursting out laughing. It's a laugh that fills the space around them, fills him; and Tomohisa finds himself possessing a strength he didn't know existed simply by being able to suppress the urge to take his face in his hands again, this time to press his lips to his.
"Your sense of humor is still terrible." Putting formalities aside, Kazuna teases him. And Tomohisa breathes, breathes for the first time since he left the party to find and reach him, for the first time since that summer night began. He breathes in the cool night air, and even the sound of his laughter that still hangs in the air all around him.
Kazuna notices. Of course. And as if she read his mind, she moves, and goes from leaning against him to facing him, and with her index finger she lifts his face – it becomes a real caress shortly after, a grazing of his cheek with the sweetness that only a lover can reserve.
"No." she continues, and tilts her face. "I don't think it's wrong. Or I would have tried to stop you, because part of my job is to make sure that until the end you remain human. For better or for worse. It's the promise I made you that day."
They swear on spilled blood, and on that which they will still shed. They swear on each other, in the light of those feelings that not even the distance to which they will inevitably be subjected will be able to weaken, and that as if they were the fire of a curse burn, and burn still. They burn; and perhaps they would have continued to burn forever, until nothing remained of them but rotting corpses.
"Do you speak as my knight?" he asks, and chuckles again. "Or as my companion?"
Kazuna blushes.
"... Don't make me say it out loud."
And he doesn't. There's no need. He just gives life to that desire that he's sure they both feel, and slowly joins their lips in a light kiss. It's their secret, one of many .
In the eternal light of the stars, they renew past promises. Just the two of them and the weight that weighs on both of their shoulders. And silently, yet another summer night flies away.