it has to reflect the heart.

[omelettes]

[ It's been a few weeks since Mirai came back, and the mood among their group has picked up significantly. Sakura and Ai hardly ever leave Mirai's side, and the literary clubroom seems brighter and warmer with the dutifully kept bonsai back on the windowsill. Akihito has diligently restocked his glasses collection to the impressive numbers it was before, much to Mirai's openly expressed disgust, though he's sure she's secretly happy about it.

Not everything has gone back to normal, of course. There's no way they could. Mitsuki still speaks to Akihito in the affectionately dismissive tones he's long used to by now, but she's quieter than before and her smiles are rare. It's a lot to ask of her to begin with; losing both of her older siblings at once and immediately thereafter being tasked with the responsibility of running her family's household is a lot to ask of one school-aged girl, no matter how levelheaded and capable that one school-aged girl might be. He catches her on the school roof sometimes when she's late for club, lollipop in one hand and the fingers of her other entwined so tightly in the holes of the fence that her knuckles are white, usually too deep in thought to acknowledge his presence. He knows that look in her eyes. It's near identical to the one he'd had in his own before Mirai's return.

They haven't talked about it much. Which is good, because Akihito's not sure what he'd even begin to say. Sometimes, he catches himself glancing over his shoulder, expecting to be met with an innocuous smile partially hidden behind that everpresent scarf, expecting wiggling fingers to slide beneath his arms in the way that used to make the hair on the back of his neck prickle. It seems so stupid now, to think about how much they'd argued over something so trivial.

It's a chilly morning when Akihito finds his feet leading him up the staircase towards the school roof. He knows he isn't going to find Mitsuki there, since classes are about to start, and it's too cold for anyone sane to be skipping class and loitering around outside. He brings his mittens up to his face, breathing hot air against them to warm his face, and readjusts his scarf as he reaches the top. Instinctively, he glances over to one particular side of the roof.

Of course, there's nothing to see. There wouldn't be.

Suddenly, Akihito doesn't feel like going to class at all. With a sigh that forms into a puffy white cloud in front of him and quickly scatters into the air, he moves towards the generators and takes a seat, curling up tightly against himself.

It's too cold for anyone sane to be skipping class and loitering around outside, he thinks, and rolls his eyes. ]


[closed to omelettes and brrier; warning for akihito kanbara and hiromi fucking nase]

Comments

[brrier]

[He'd had a brush with death before, when he received the scars along his back, and he's not sure if he should be thankful that his actual death was significantly less painful. Although, pain meant he was alive. Now, he didn't feel much of anything. Or rather, it was more of the memories of things. How he remembered rain and sun and the wind to feel.

He'd never been that attached to the Nase home, and nowhere else felt like a place he was comfortable with, except the school. He felt a bit of a pull to go back to the clubroom, but he didn't want to upset his sister. Even in the times she came up to the roof, he kept himself hidden. She didn't need yet another thing weighing on her mind. But the thing is, Hiromi's not sure why he's a ghost. He doesn't know what he's supposed to be doing, or where he's supposed to go. There had been no bright light, he'd simply ended up, hovering, above his own body, and fumbled his way through the rest.

He moves, instinctively, when he hears the door to the roof swing open. Most people can't see him, but he doesn't want to be caught off guard by Mitsuki, or someone who would tell her about him. Although, even if he thinks Akihito might fall into that category, when he spots the other, for the first time since his death, he can't help the instinct that pulls him to settle down a few feet away from him, in Akihito's peripheral vision.]

[omelettes]

[ Akihito's too deeply preoccupied with his own thoughts (why is he up here? shouldn't he go to class? the longer he's out, the harder it'll be to give a convincing excuse for his tardiness) to notice the movement at the corner of his vision at first. When he does and turns his head enough to follow it, he's positive it must be that he's gotten so cold he's hallucinating.

But even as he thinks that, his eyes are wide and the name slips out of his mouth. ]

... Hiromi?

[brrier]

Hi, Akkey.

[He waves, shifting (or really, more like floating) around to sit in front of the other. He didn't really plan to ever speak to anyone, but now that Akihito's here, Hiromi feels he should at least let one person know what's become of him. And Akihito seems like the best candidate for not telling Mitsuki.]

Before you ask, I don't really know why I'm here.