Title - Winter
Fandom - Ghost Hound
Pairing - Masayuki/Makoto
Summary - "Seasons rotate with people"
You paused, your back brushing against the metal bars on the roof. Just a few years ago, you couldn't even stand to be here, couldn't even look at the sky without the fear of the world crumbling around you like paper.
Taro talks about college. Michio talks about exams. Makoto says nothing and you wonder why. You take this moment to tell them your plans of going back to Tokyo to study. "Since," you say, "The centre will close soon and it's probably time for me to head back."
Taro nods, his eyes stuck halfway between concern and acceptance. Michio whines a bit about being abandoned by his best friend and you take this moment to pat his head condescendingly. You grin a bit and your eyes travel over to Makoto.
He says nothing. You feel almost a brief flash of irritation, but you squash it before it shows. You get up and made your way over to him, slinging over his shoulders with that annoying sense of familiarity that Makoto despises and says, "Makoto will feel so lonely when I'm gone~"
He shrugs you away as you expected him to and said, "Don't say silly things."
You smile back, but the world felt like paper again.
Your mother asks you, "What is your dream?"
You almost choked on your tea. Instead you hold the cup up to your mouth, letting the steam blows into your face and you say, "I don't have one."
Your mother chuckles softly (like rain) and she comments on you wanting to be a rock star. You turn your head slightly in embarrassment and you tell her it's just a hobby to pass the time. She claps her hands together (prayer) and tells you quite seriously that you should have a future, something you want.
You take a sip of your tea. You didn't have the heart to tell her that you lost hope in futures and dreams a long time ago. Your mother smiles at you (precious). You don't meet her eyes.
You come to school the next day and the teacher made you fill out a questionnaire. Never had a blank piece of paper ever looked so intimidating. You ticked the boxes at random and strode out angrily. Masayuki found you on the roof, leaning so heavily, it seemed that you would fall at any time. He must have panicked because he rushed by your side and pulled you back. You stared at him curiously and he scowls at you.
"What are you doing Makoto?" he asks finally.
"About what?" the scowl has faded leaving only his curious side behind.
He became quiet and you wondered why. He closed his eyes and said, "What do you want, Makoto?"
Many things run through your head like a film; father, mother, darkness, giants, knives and fire. You say nothing and Masayuki runs an uneasy hand through his hair.
"Come with me to Tokyo."
You stumbled, "What?"
"You heard," his face was set and there seemed to be no hint of a mistake, "Taro's staying a little longer for Miyako and Michio has his own plans."
You swallowed bitterly, "I'm not interested."
"You'll be alone."
"...I'm not you," you said and you felt a brief moment of satisfaction when he flinched.
"No," He said finally, shoving his hands into his pockets, "But think about it."
The paperwork was in order and all you had to do was wait. And the wait was gnawing at your mind like a cancer. You just sat there, twiddling your thumbs at the controller untill you were sick of the screen. You switched the game off and flopped on the bed. You thought to call him, to force him to answer but you figured he'd probably hang up. You were angry, it was building in your ears like the throb of the ocean, but you simply cover your face with a pillow and let the darkness burn into your eyes.
Times knocks on the door and he's here again, in front of your house. He comes and he goes. Sometimes he'd stare at your window and sometimes he'd look away as if his own presence there shamed him. It was cold that day, so you dressed up warmly and greeted him for the first time. He looked surprised. You ignored it.
"Stop being dumb," you grit out, "You'll catch a cold."
He nods and you both trudge in the snow together in silence, the crunch of the boots almost deafening. The wind occasionally flapped at your scarf and you tightened it quietly. Masayuki hisses, a cool mist escaping his mouth and chapping his lips.
He asks again, "Come to Tokyo."
You pause and say, "I can't leave my mother alone."
"You can't watch over her forever," he continues, "You've been doing that for years! Isn't it time--,"
He freezes when he glimpses your face. You can't see what you look like, but his expression gives you away.
"Come with me to Tokyo," he repeats, softly, so softly that the words withered and died.
You say nothing, but you nod.
"You'll come?" The hope was burning in him now.
You think back about what your mother said about futures and dreams. You then say, "I'll come."
Masayuki is in front of you, tugging at your scarf to make you bend your head. He lightly brushes against your lips (chapped, dry, tingling) and his eyes are faintly bright. He hesitates (brief) but he screws up his courage and deepens it slowly. You let him. The snow falling singed your cheeks as you closed your eyes and thought the world was changing.
It was a big city. Too many people, too many faces, too many voices in the forest. You swallow, the bile clogging your throat as you made your choice and you're here to carve a place for yourself.
--Makoto puts a hand on your shoulder and walks forward. You watch him, distinct in the crowd, his back tall and unique.
And you follow.