Archive of Our Own

The rain wasn’t unexpected, per se, but it was unwelcome. Gentaro had made a slight miscalculation in his timing, and idled too long while people-watching. A soap opera had unfolded, and this time not one of his own imagination. A couple on a date, a girl stepping aside to take a call and accidentally running into the other man calling her, some suggestion of an impromptu date, the unfolding situation as she tried to balance them without the other finding out, the inevitable moment her two beaus locked eyes and the heart-wrenching conclusion as she sat eating her double crepes alone to fill her newly empty afternoon. It was poetic that the sky opened up. If he wasn’t so concerned about getting soaked himself, he may have stayed nearby to see how long she would tolerate it, but soggy books were one of his least favourite things.

He ducked beneath an awning, joining some others in watching the sky open up. One of the shop assistants was peering out at it, bewildered at how fast their sunny afternoon had turned grey. From the look of it, it would stay that way, and a quick glance at his phone reassured him that it wouldn’t let up for days.

Days.

He certainly couldn’t wait it out that long.

Idly, he scrolled through the emails he had ignored from his publishers, some random spam messages he had yet to clear, anything cluttering his status bar. There wasn’t anything important, or even interesting, and he sighed softly as he shut off the screen. Home was too far away with how hard it was pouring, but perhaps there was a closer stop he could make. One that was always interesting.

Hugging the buildings as best he could, Gentaro made his way toward his potential refuge, hoping he may find his saviour inside. The shop was brightly lit but empty, the mannequin that usually sat upon the bench pulled inside to keep it from getting mussed. That was a good sign, perhaps. Unless someone had stolen it, it meant that Ramuda was likely nearby.

Gentaro hesitated at the bench, looking into the shop with its brightly coloured designs littering the walls. It was a refuge, yes, but it was also Ramuda. It wasn’t that he didn’t like him, especially this far into their partnership, but there was always something about him that he couldn’t quite put his finger on. He was at his worst when surprised, when things were out of his control. Would this provoke him in some way? Was he walking in on something he shouldn’t? Gentaro thought of his phone, of the message he should’ve sent first, and pressed his lips together as he considered his options.

He could call him now. No, text him. He would surely hear him if he called, which would betray just how close he was. Then again, it wasn’t like he was going to wait out in the rain for any amount of time once he was welcomed in. If he was welcomed in. He would be, though, wouldn’t he? After all, Ramuda was always bothering them, demanding their attention, taking them on frivolous adventures or what he could only assume was a team building exercise run through his childish filter. Those were all Ramuda’s ideas though, and entirely within his control.

Gentaro sighed heavily, resting against the door as he pulled out his phone. A text wouldn’t hurt, he supposed. That was the best option, other than standing out in the rain or slogging back home. He could duck into a café or something, but he was already rather drenched. Ramuda would surely have clothes he could borrow as his dripped out. Maybe they could have tea.

You have been specially selected to receive a surprise visit from a famous celebrity!

Reply ‘Yes!’ for him to walk into your apartment immediately!

That was playful enough, gave Ramuda warning of how close he was and the option to refuse him. He pressed his phone to his chest just under the edge of his cape, eyes wandering out into the street and the few people hurrying with their umbrellas to cross the puddle-dotted crosswalk. Everyone was scattering and even the promotional tissue hawkers were nowhere to be seen.

His phone buzzed almost immediately, the message preview overfilled with YES YES YES~! and assorted emphatic emojis. He found himself smiling as he pushed open the door, slipping into the boutique and making his way to the living quarters beyond.

It was a practiced trek now, though he became very acutely aware of the wet footprints he was leaving the whole way in. He paused to remove his shoes, his socks hardly better, and carried them up with him. Once in range, he pulled a deep breath and announced, in his best salaryman voice, “I’m home!”

Before he could even touch the doorknob, the door flung open and Ramuda burst from the room, tiny arms encircling his waist and spinning him where he stood. He was used to this, too, and spun with the momentum, free arm holding Ramuda’s back to keep them steady and upright. He could feel him cringe at his wet clothes, but Ramuda still beamed up, lollipop in his cheek, and responded, “Welcome back!”

No sooner had he said it than the moment passed, and Ramuda jumped back, looking down at the wet spots Gentaro had left on his shirt and cardigan. His tongue stuck out and he made a really obnoxious sound of disgust that Gentaro couldn’t help but laugh at. He tried to hide the laugh behind his sleeve, but Ramuda fixed him in a betrayed glare.

“Why didn’t you come over sooner instead of getting all wet?!” he demanded. Gentaro looked away for a moment, still hiding his face.

“I was enjoying the rain festival,” he mused. “You can’t truly understand the meaning of the mood unless you fully immerse yourself.”

“A rain festival?!” Ramuda repeated, half incredulous, but half excited.

“Actually,” Gentaro said, his smile peeking around his sleeve as he turned back to his teammate. “That was just a lie.”

Ramuda laughed at that, turning on his heel and bounding back inside. “A rain festival would be fun though, as long as you got to dress for the weather!”

“And how would that be?” Gentaro asked, setting his soggy shoes by the door as he made his way inside. “To deflect or to embrace?”

“To have fun!” Ramuda replied, evading the options presented. He was already darting back and forth, setting sweets and snacks on the table. He seemed almost like he was putting out set dressing, and Gentaro wondered if he had interrupted something after all. It wasn’t as if he was working, if the tidiness of the room was to be considered. Or maybe he was being too suspicious, and Ramuda was simply napping, as was his wont. It was impossible to know anything for certain.

“Speaking of dressing,” Gentaro began, already unpinning his cape. “Could I trouble you for something to wear while I dry off?”

Ramuda stopped mid-motion, frozen as he looked at Gentaro, cookies in hand. He cocked his head for a moment, then smiled widely.

“I don’t have anything that’s your style, but I have plenty you’d look great in!” he offered, snatching up a rolled measuring tape as he approached. Gentaro watched as he busied himself with measurements, though he wasn’t entirely sure there were measurements actually being taken or if Ramuda just enjoyed pulling and posing him to look busy.

“Anything is fine, for now,” Gentaro lied, watching the little pink gremlin hopping around him.

“I’ll get something really good!” Ramuda promised, disappearing back the way they’d come in, some prêt-à-porter in mind back in the boutique. It surely wouldn’t fit his aesthetic, but it seemed to make Ramuda happy enough, which would make this impromptu visit much more tolerable. He took a few steps inside, fingers brushing against the table, eyes wandering the rest of the room.

It was so strange. It was almost like Ramuda didn’t live here. Even the most fastidious housekeeper still had a home that looked… comfortable. His feeling that Ramuda was applying set dressing was apt, maybe. This was a set, the idea of an apartment that a quirky fashion designer would live in, with its modern furnishings and street-art style. Neon bloomed in the corner from the jukebox and slot machine, and there were bits and pieces here and there that suggested his career, but none of it seemed used. There were no creases on the magazines, the little kit of sewing supplies the tape had come from was present but not in a place it would be used. The cookies and snacks were just freshly placed, not as if he’d been eating them before, or that he’d ever eaten any at all.

With a flurry of footsteps, Ramuda reappeared, several pieces draped over his arm. He looked proud of himself, as if he was very certain he had succeeded in something, and Gentaro turned toward him as he approached.

“Ta-DA~!” Ramuda announced, presenting his finds. “A neutral cigarette pant for the bottom will be perfect for the bright polka-dots! Then over that, a distressed hoodie! Super-duper cozy and stylish!”

Gentaro watched as each piece was held up and then handed over to him. It was definitely Ramuda’s style and nowhere near his own… but a long tunic and hoodie did sound like what he needed to take the clammy chill off of his skin. He smiled and accepted them all, then eyed the bathroom door.

“I’ll get changed, then,” he announced, before disappearing inside.

For all the fake measuring Ramuda seemed to do, everything did fit him perfectly. The pants in particular seemed very high-risk, but they wore just how he assumed they were intended. It was odd to see his own legs so clearly, to feel the fabric against his skin, but he couldn’t deny that he’d been fitted well. It almost made one wonder if they had been made with that intention… but Ramuda surely did not know his measurements before. Maybe a tailor’s intuition. He’d allow that to be the excuse, for now.

The tunic was loose, soft and absolutely garish. The whole thing was eye-searing, but he supposed that was fine when mostly covered with a hoodie. It fell past his hips, which meant that it would stick out from under the ribbed hem as a pop of colour. It also showed through the distressing, he quickly discovered, and in entirely fresh clothes, he felt much better. They… oddly seemed to suit him, even if he would never choose it himself. Once his hair dried, he would be quite fetching, if one cared about such things. Gentaro carefully hung up his clothes, giving them one last look before rejoining his teammate.

Ramuda was waiting with bated breath, elbows on the table, unblinking stare fixed on the bathroom door as he returned. He’d scarcely stepped back into the room when Ramuda leapt up, fawning immediately.

“I knew it~!” he chirped, leaning this way and that to get a full view. “It’s perfect! I know Gentaro so~o well!”

Gentaro would allow that, though his throat tightened as he forced a smile.

“Thank you,” he managed, heading for the table. Ramuda had made tea for them, and a steaming cup waited for him along with a cup of fruit. There were plenty of sweets strewn about and now a sketchbook with an unfinished design face-up. He’d finished dressing his set, it seemed, and was pretending to have been working very hard.

What a strange creature.

Gentaro took his seat with a hum, waiting for Ramuda to join him before sipping his tea. The cup was warm on his skin and he simply held it for a few long moments, letting his fingers leech the heat.

“You look great-great-great!” Ramuda announced, plopping down across the table from him. “I definitely want to get some pics of you before you leave!”

“Am I your muse now?” Gentaro asked with a smirk, bringing the cup to his lips.

“Uh-huh!” Ramuda agreed, resting his chin on his palms, elbows once again on the table. “You and Dice are my biggest inspirations right now!”

“Mn,” Gentaro hummed, taking a sip before replying. “You both have been quite an inspiration for me as well.”

“Woah, really?!” Ramuda gaped, eyes sparkling at the very idea. “Are you writing about us now?!”

“Of course,” Gentaro said with a smile. “I think this one might be a song for us…”

“Wow! Can I hear it?!”

“Not until it’s ready.”

Ramuda made a petulant noise and sat back on his feet, an exaggerated pout pursing his lips.

“No fair, no fair! You can’t tell me you’re writing us a song and not even tell me about it! I’m the leader, I need to know everything!”

“You will,” Gentaro soothed, hiding behind his cup. “Someday.”

“Yep!” Ramuda agreed, and Gentaro couldn’t help but feel neither of them was talking about the song.

Satisfied, Ramuda began to pick through all of the sweets he’d set out, looking for something in particular before taking one of everything anyway. He arranged them neatly, then seemed to think better of it, taking the checkered cookies and beginning to build a little house with them. 

“I wish you hadn’t lied about the festival,” he mumbled absently, his tiny fingers at their deft work, attention focused on his task.

Gentaro watched him quietly, then asked, “Do you like festivals?”

“I like FUN!” Ramuda corrected, still fidgeting with the snacks.

“What sort of festivals are fun to you?” Gentaro asked, setting his cup down as gently as he could as not to disturb this masterful architect. Ramuda seemed to not hear him, or at least gave no pretense that he did. It was strange that there was silence between them, but Gentaro allowed it, his eyes wandering the room again, listening to the sound of the rain on the windows.

“It wasn’t completely a lie,” he said after the wait grew uncomfortable. “There is a festival going on right now, just not a rain festival.”

That caught Ramuda’s attention immediately, eyes snapping up as the cookie house toppled over.

“What kind of festival?!”

“It’s firefly season,” Gentaro explained. “Usually, you would have to go all the way out of the city to really enjoy them, but the botanical garden is having firefly nights this week.”

The excitement was electric, Ramuda positively vibrating in his seat.

“Can we go?!” he demanded. “When is it? We should go tonight!”

“Tonight?” Gentaro repeated with a hum, his eyes wandering to the bathroom. “My clothes won’t be dry by then.”

“They will be afterward!” Ramuda offered, undeterred.

Gentaro was slightly embarrassed that it mattered so much to him, so he said nothing else on the subject. What was he supposed to admit to, anyway? Nothing he ever intended to. Not that he felt Ramuda wasn’t trustworthy but… well, they were both made of lies and secrets, weren’t they? Would they even have any interest in each other if they weren’t?

The idea pulled a smile across his lips, and before he realized it, he was watching Ramuda as he bounced around getting ready. Apparently, he needed something more interesting than his minty cardigan, since Gentaro would be wearing something new and eye-catching. There was no malice in it, no jealousy or need to outdo him, but to match him and be flashy together. He wondered absently if that had been part of the plan all along, but this date night was rather impromptu. He certainly wasn’t going to change while they were just hanging out. This was for his social feeds, and for the fans they may see there. The thought made him apprehensive in a way he couldn’t explain, but he would ignore it. This was making Ramuda excited in a way that he couldn’t possibly ruin, especially with self-consciousness he wouldn’t own up to.

The whole act of ‘getting ready’ turned into a pop-up fashion show, and outfit after outfit was paraded out, showed off, looked at in selfie mode and then dismissed for a better fit. This was too plain, not that a dark/bright combination was bad, but it didn’t suit the occasion. That one… well, it was primary colours, and Gentaro was entirely CMYK! Then this one… no, too busy, it would clash too much, and not in a stylish way! Gentaro listened patiently as he rattled off all of his thoughts on their pairing, never interrupting, occasionally sipping his tea.

This was, honestly, one of the first times that he’d seen Ramuda engaged meaningfully in what was supposedly his career. Normally it was flirting with girls and commenting on their coords, or doodling in a sketchbook as if he intended to actually make anything he drew. The clothes just seemed to manifest unless he was doing something one-off. He did mending for them and some minor customization, so he did have some skills, but it was nice to see him actually in his element… or at least giving the pretense that he could be.

Gentaro blinked in surprise when the selfie-check turned into an actual photo. He snapped back into the present, out of his thoughts, and there was a moment of catch-up his brain had to do before he realized what had happened. It was a moment too late, Ramuda’s deft little fingers typing out a post before he could object, narrated the entire time but unprocessed.

“Gentaro is looking so soft tonight!” he announced as he sent it off. “I’m so~o happy he likes his new clothes!”

His own phone buzzed from his hoodie pocket, signalling that he had been tagged. That was usual, but he couldn’t help the way it made his heart skip this time. He pulled it out under the table, opening the notification with no small amount of apprehension.

Gentaro skimmed the post, eyes flicking to the status bar as he was tagged on a different platform, swallowing his anxiety. He opened the photo and took a long moment to look at it, immediately focusing on his own face.

It… wasn’t bad.

It was just like Ramuda said. Soft. He misread the emotion, maybe, or perhaps was giving him the benefit of deniability. It wasn’t comfort, or contentment, certainly not because of the clothes. It was…

“Good, right? I think it’s our best selfie yet! I didn’t have to try to fit Dice in and my hand didn’t shake at all!”

Ramuda was nearly in his lap, leaning awkwardly close to look at his phone as if the selfie wasn’t stored on his own phone and attached to every bit of public consumption he curated. Gentaro leaned back instinctively, letting him peer at it, humming softly.

“It’s unusual, but I don’t mind,” Gentaro lied, watching the back of Ramuda’s pink head as he nodded.

“I want to get so many photos of you!” Ramuda continued. “I have some stuff for Dice too! We’ll all get together soon and totally flood everyone with Posse pics!”

It was true, most of their selfies were terrible. One of them moved or pulled a strange face, or they were arguing or teasing each other, or Ramuda’s short arm shook as he strained to pull the phone back enough to get them all. He wouldn’t let anyone else take the photos, not that Gentaro wanted to, and Dice had proven early that he didn’t care about how the photo looked so much as the memory attached to it.

It was nice to have the memories. Ramuda was too vain or perhaps too brand-focused to allow that, though he seemed far more sentimental than he admitted. He hoarded the photos, and dozens of other creeper shots Gentaro was sure he took. He liked watching as his Posse existed in their natural state, a performance just for him, especially when Gentaro performed other roles and Dice explosively performed Dice. He wondered how many other fond smiles Ramuda had caught, and if he could catch him the same, were he so photographically inclined.

Fling Posse wasn’t really a fling anymore, was it?

Ramuda was already up again, no longer playing with his food, instead popping several of the cookies in his mouth at once as he cleaned up the rest. Whatever idea of hanging out he’d been trying to give was over now and this new idea was erasing it entirely. Gentaro held onto his cup to prevent it from being cleared as well, though it was very nearly empty anyway. There was no rush.

“They don’t start until later, you know,” he said at last. “They have to make sure all of the fireflies have their bulbs replaced for the big musical number.”

He hesitated only a moment, and Gentaro was almost proud of him.

“We gotta make sure we get the best seats for the show!” Ramuda replied, the back of his hand covering his mouth to keep crumbs from falling out or being seen.

“Of course, that was a lie,” Gentaro confessed with a soft laugh. “But the event starts at 5:30.”

“Are they even awake then?” Ramuda asked, pausing to check the time on his phone. “It won’t be dark until way later. Unless they make it super dark inside on purpose?”

“The garden is a big glass building,” Gentaro said, touching his hand to his lips in thought. “I don’t think they could, or would, be able to block so much light.”

“Boo!” Ramuda complained, eyeing Gentaro’s cup. He disappeared, returning with a semi-hot kettle in hand, refilling it since Gentaro wasn’t going to give it up.

“Do you want to eat something first?” he asked as Ramuda went to put the kettle away.

“I’m always down to eat!” Ramuda replied, eagerly returning to talk about their options. “Are you hungry? Should we get steak?”

Gentaro laughed at that, turning the cup in his hands as he considered their options.

“Whatever you want,” he finally conceded, and Ramuda swayed back and forth as he then considered their options.

“Well, if we eat too much, we’ll be super weighed down and tired, so maybe we won’t even wanna go,” he suggested. “But if we go to the café and you eat too much sugar, maybe you won’t wanna sit still…”

“Mn, good points,” Gentaro said, sipping his lukewarm and watered down tea.

“What do you even do with the fireflies, anyway?”

This question struck Gentaro as odd, and he was momentarily at a loss for words. He watched Ramuda who in turn watched him back, and it seemed as if his question was actually genuine. Had he never…?

“Enjoy them,” Gentaro said simply, waiting to see Ramuda’s reaction.

“How?” he pressed, and Gentaro took a sip of his tea to compose himself.

How did Ramuda know nothing about fireflies? It wasn’t as if this was a great secret, even if he’d been in Tokyo his whole life. It wasn’t as if Shibuya’s little garden was the only place to celebrate. If he loved events and festivals so much, why did he know nothing at all about this? It happened every summer, like clockwork.

“If you’re careful, and gentle, you can catch them in your palms.”

“Eh?! Really?!” Ramuda was shocked, leaning forward to judge Gentaro’s sincerity. Gentaro blinked back at him and nodded.

“They hover in the air, so once you spot one, you can simply…” he paused, setting his cup down, then mimed catching a firefly. He looked back up to Ramuda as his hands met, and Ramuda was watching him intently. He leaned forward, presenting his hands, and Ramuda leaned too, peering into them as they parted, as if there really was a firefly waiting to be seen. He seemed shocked there was nothing there, and the disappointment was something Gentaro felt strongly should be rectified.

There were stories, and there were lies, and all stories ultimately were lies, but the wonder they could impart should never be dismantled like a lie disproven. As young as Ramuda acted, it was not until now that he felt him so innocent as he played, and there was an ache in his chest to return that innocence and wonder to him once again.

...what had gotten into him?

“Well, I will teach you tonight,” he said simply, and Ramuda nodded in agreement, determination replacing his disappointment.

The tea was unappetizing and the mood somewhat sullen, so Gentaro stood, cup left behind on the table, and stretched. Ramuda was up right behind him, snatching the cup immediately and happily disposing of it.

“Are we going to the café?” he asked.

“I think that would be best,” Gentaro confirmed, checking his pockets to make sure he’d transferred everything to them. “Do you have shoes I can borrow? And an umbrella?”

“Yep!” Ramuda confirmed, rummaging around somewhere only to return with his own small sneakers and an umbrella slung in the crook of his arm. “We’ll grab some shoes on the way out!”

They were ready to go soon enough, making their way back through the boutique, stopping only to grab some appropriate footwear and to hang a hastily written sign on the door before they locked it behind them. It had Ramuda’s distinctive scrawl, hearts dotting the apologies and a doodled firefly suggesting where they could be found. Gentaro peered out at the street and it looked just as soggy as before, the rain continuing just as hard as it had been before.

He took the umbrella as Ramuda offered it, opening it and holding it out to shield them both. His hand touched Ramuda’s shoulder, guiding him gently inside its protective circle, and he left it there as they started walking to set their pace. Ramuda seemed to not mind the touch, humming a rather happy little song as they set off for sweets.

There wasn’t as much to dodge at this point, many people having long since ducked inside buildings or made their ways home. It felt strangely serene and perhaps a little intimate as they walked. Ramuda’s song filled in the relative quiet, and Gentaro simply enjoyed the closeness. The café wasn’t far, and while they would still arrive a bit damp, the umbrella was a huge improvement over his earlier trek.

The café seemed rather empty when they arrived, though it was to be expected with the weather. The staff greeted them as they arrived and soon enough they were seated, menus full of snacks set before them along with their complimentary water glasses. Ramuda opened his menu but his eyes were on Gentaro, watching as his finger traced across the different colourful treats.

“What are you getting?” he asked after a few moments, very obvious in his spying despite the upright menu obscuring his face. Gentaro didn’t look up right away, allowing him to watch, humming thoughtfully as he made his way to another page.

It was too humid and warm for anything heavy, just like Ramuda had suggested before. That ruled out the bigger plates, not that he was particularly hungry. Something simple, maybe, to kill time with and to tide them over until the fireflies were out.

“A parfait,” he finally announced, finger landing decidedly upon the beautifully layered matcha creation. It alternated between scoops of vanilla and matcha ice cream, with jelly, cake cubes and lychee breaking it up. The top had a careful swirl and it seemed absolutely heavenly, considering how disappointing his refreshed tea had been.

Ramuda slapped down his menu and gaped as if he had never seen such a thing, though he certainly had, and had eaten them too. He made a big show of frantically looking across the menu until he found a matching parfait, then pointed it out to Gentaro with an exaggerated ‘ta-da!’ Gentaro leaned over to look at Ramuda’s menu, as if his own held no such photo.

“Two cats for a double-treat!” Ramuda announced. The parfait did indeed have two cats, each one a big round scoop of ice cream set on a bed of cut strawberries and cornflakes in a wide bowl. They had shaped chips of white chocolate for ears and mouths that were stuck on with caramel, and slivers gently pressed in for whiskers. Two chocolate dots made up their eyes and a dot of strawberry became the nose.

“Very cute,” Gentaro professed, and Ramuda bounced in excitement. “Are you going to be able to eat all of that yourself?”

“Duh!” he retorted with a cackle. “I never half-ass something like this!”

The crudeness of his response made Gentaro laugh, hiding his amusement behind his sleeve. It was both unexpected and completely expected, and that was what made it so endearing.

Endearing? Maybe it was. Maybe he was. Oh, what a thing to think.

The waitress was right on time, and Gentaro let Ramuda order for them both as he mulled over it all.

He’d thought, briefly, of it as a date. It was a joke to himself, about hanging out one-on-one instead of as a trio, but… perhaps the joke had gone a bit too far. This was beginning to feel like he’d stepped into one of his own stories, full of little heart-racing moments of discovery and the profound realization that he’d fallen in love with his best friend.

As if Ramuda was his best friend! Oh, to be so close to him, to know all of his secrets, and to tell his own! They were truly inseparable, and so they would remain! An autumn courtship, Christmas together and a shining bright future into the new year! And then, just as the cherry blossoms bloomed, a pink-coloured wedding to bind them together forever!

A lie, of course.

And yet, he could feel Ramuda’s eyes on him once the waitress had left, wide and expectant, watching him as he watched the raindrops, and he became very aware of how the hyperbole had made him smile.

“I didn’t know Gentaro like parfaits so much,” Ramuda said as he turned back. “He’s smiling so much at everything to-day.”

“It seems so,” Gentaro allowed, just this once.

“It’s hard not to smile with Ramuda,” Ramuda boasted, his fingers pressing dimples into his cheeks as he smiled his best and brightest smile.

“That is true,” Gentaro confirmed, and sat back against the booth. He pulled out his phone to fill the empty space on the table before them, needing something to distract them both from the topic of his fluttery feelings. It was flashing rapidly with all of the notifications from Ramuda’s posts and he snorted softly at them. “My battery is going to die at this rate.”

“Oh?” Ramuda asked, leaning to look. “Well, turn the notifications off, dummy! Aren’t you used to this by now?”

“No,” Gentaro admitted. “Somehow, I forget each time just how popular you are.”

“Nuh-uh!” Ramuda protested. “It’s because you’re wearing Empty Candy! People are going wild for my new model!”

“And muse,” Gentaro reminded him, and Ramuda grinned again.

“They haven’t gone this crazy since the last DRB,” he explained, his own phone out now and eyes skimming over his posts “I did a lot of promo leading up to that, but I sorta fell off the grind when we were out first round. Hard to keep up the vibe, y’know?”

“Mn,” Gentaro hummed, looking away for a moment. “You did take that pretty hard. It was disappointing, but we were surprised by how you acted.”

“It was a huge bummer!” Ramuda announced quickly, his defensiveness about the DRB more than well practiced at this point. “We were gonna go all the way! I was totally sure we had what it took! Next time, we’re definitely, de-fin-ite-ly gonna win!”

“We won’t let you down next time,” Gentaro vowed, pressing a hand dramatically to his chest.

“You never let me down in the first place!” Ramuda interrupted, grabbing Gentaro’s hand and pulling it away. He pinned it to the table, his blue eyes sharp and fierce, despite his light tone. Gentaro met his gaze, and only then did Ramuda continue, “It was 100% my fault, and I won’t let anything get in my way next time. No nerves, no pressure--”

“No old men?”

“UGH, no! Definitely not any of those!” Ramuda made a face that was supposed to be cute and exaggerated, but Gentaro saw the curl on his lip and the danger in his eyes. He was playing with fire now, and he needed to make sure their date didn’t go up in smoke.

“I think the song I’m working on will do well to bolster support,” he guided, steering the conversation back in a slightly safer direction.

“Gentaro is teasing me again,” Ramuda moaned, throwing himself back into the booth, momentarily looking as if Dice would be there to complain to.

“I can tease a little,” Gentaro asserted, also to Dice, who was not there at all. He then shifted in the booth slightly, looking toward the corner he’d pulled away from. His voice dropped as he spoke again, aping Dice’s distinctive tone. “You better not make him too mad, he won’t pay for dinner! And I’m broke!”

“And whose fault is that?” Gentaro asked, leaning the opposite way, in his normal tone.

“Mine! I’m a worthless gambler who can’t keep a cent to myself!” he answered himself, leaning back into ‘Dice’s part of the booth, hands clasped together and head down. “Please don’t make him mad, or else I’ll have to eat bugs!”

“I thought you liked eating bugs…” Gentaro mused, tapping his hand to his lip in thought. “You loved his cooking, you said… what was his name…”

“Ah!” Gentaro gasped, begging even harder. “Please don’t make him mad either! Then I’ll die in the gutter for sure!”

Ramuda was laughing hard, holding his stomach as Gentaro performed for him, tears in his eyes as the waitress brought their food. He was completely undeterred, still begging the ghost of Gentaro not to ruin his life.

“Dice, Dice!” Ramuda interrupted, taking up his spoon. “You can have one of my cats! I won’t let you starve too much! Not until after the next DRB!”

“Thank you so much! Generous Ramuda-sama!” Gentaro cried, throwing himself down on the table, nearly knocking over his own parfait. “My saviour! My personal lender! Please, 500,000 yen!”

Ramuda was red-faced he was laughing so hard, but he managed to get some ice cream on his spoon from the back of one of the cats, and held it out.

“From my hand to your unworthy mouth!” he announced, voice suddenly jarringly low.

“I accept your blessing, Ramuda-sama!” Gentaro replied, opening his mouth to accept it, refusing to break character even as Ramuda did.

The ice cream was heavenly, not that he’d expected otherwise, but he would gladly stop acting just to eat his own. He sat up straight, then gave a showy seated bow, which Ramunda clapped excitedly for.

“It’s like he’s here after all!”

Gentaro smiled, making short work of his mouthful before taking up his own spoon.

“Anything for you,” he said in his usual, soft tone. “Ramuda-sama.”

“Selfie!” Ramuda demanded, and in an instant he was in ‘Dice’s spot, pressed against Gentaro’s side, shuffling for his bowl. “Both parfaits and us!”

Gentaro shifted, making room for Ramuda as he busied himself setting up the table to show both of their treats. It made sense why he took the bite from the back now. He wanted to play his part in the show, but still wanted to take a photo before ruining it. He watched as Ramuda tried to fit them and their meal into the shot, face twisted in concentration in the front-facing display. Gentaro rested his spoon hand on Ramuda’s shoulder, tilting his head this way and that as he strained.

“Your arms are too short,” he observed.

“My arms are too short!” Ramuda cried, thumping back against Gentaro.

“My arms are longer,” Gentaro offered

“They’re so long!” Ramuda cried, and to that, Gentaro picked up his phone, shifting their positions until he could get it out in front of them. By the time his camera opened, Ramuda looked perfect again, no sign of his red-faced laugh or his faux tears, both parfaits juggled in his hands before him, cat-like smirk firmly in place. Gentaro fit himself in behind him, steadied him with a hand, and took the shot.

“Show me, show me!” Ramuda exploded immediately, though he didn’t move in case the photo needed to be retaken. Gentaro obediently opened the photo, and they both looked it over.

There it was again. That soft smile. The one Ramuda was intent on announcing each time he noticed it. It certainly was obvious, wasn’t it? Why, then, was he having such a hard time seeing it himself?

Because he didn’t want to, of course. Because, as he had already decided, this was too trite and cliché, and there was truly no future for them as a couple. The whole point was a ‘fling’ sort of friendship, and of course that meant they all threw themselves into it with abandon, since it meant nothing, but that didn’t mean that it had to mean everything. And what about Dice? The real Dice, not Dice as he imagined him. What would he think of all of this?

“Good?” Ramuda interrupted, and Gentaro pulled his arm back, nodding.

“Perfect.”

Gentaro allowed Ramuda to get up as he pleased, holding his phone out of the way so that he could move. Both parfaits were placed carefully onto the table before Ramuda got up, but he plucked the phone out of Gentaro’s hand as he retreated to the other side of the table. Gentaro felt his chest tighten as it left, but Ramuda was too quick to get ahold of. He was gleefully swiping around before he even sat back down, humming one of his little songs as he did… whatever he was doing. Invading. Conquering. Exposing everything.

“Ram--”

“Done!”

With an emphatic poke, Ramuda finished whatever task it was and triumphantly set the phone down before Gentaro. He swallowed thickly and peered down.

Tweet sent.

The tweet popped up a moment later, his carefully curated feed and pristine public image now featuring their selfie and Ramuda’s token texting style, announcing proudly that he ‘love love LOVES hanging out with his bestie Ramuda!’, complete with stars and hearts dotting it for emphasis.

“Perfect, right?” Ramuda prompted, poised with his spoon, waiting for the reply.

Gentaro hummed, dragging his own spoon around his parfait, reading over it all again. It was obviously Ramuda who posted it, so that was fine. It wasn’t as if ‘Yumeno Gentaro’ wasn’t inexorably linked with ‘Amemura Ramuda’ or that Fling Posse itself was some big secret. They’d relied partially on the support of his own fanbase to ensure their group was well-supported in Shibuya and in the DRB. So… it was fine.

He lifted the spoon and held it across the table for Ramuda, in exchange for the bite he’d had earlier. As Ramuda leaned forward, and as the spoon disappeared into his mouth, Gentaro whispered softly to him, “I love love love you, Ramuda…”

It sounded good. He knew just how he needed to purr it, how to sell it, to sound sincere. He met his gaze half-lidden, green eyes fluttering almost shut, lips pursed ever so slightly. Ramuda stopped, spoon in his mouth, blue eyes wide, pale cheeks growing pink. They were frozen there, just as cliché as one could imagine, truly the things of romance novels and cheesy dramas. All that was missing was the kiss…

Ramuda pulled back, hiding his matcha-filled mouth behind his hand.

“Liar!” he shot defensively.

“Of course,” Gentaro lied.

Ramuda did not want to continue this conversation, it seemed, and he dug into his parfait with pointed gusto. He looked cute flustered like this, eyes on his food, eating spoonful after spoonful of ice cream and chocolate without a break. At least Gentaro wasn’t the only one feeling this teen drama fantasy.

He dragged his spoon around and around again, collecting whipped cream and a lychee before taking a bite, interested only in prolonging the awkwardness Ramuda now felt about their treats. He could go ahead and make up a story about them now, if he wanted, imagine Ramuda’s running inner dialogue as he put the spoon into his mouth and dragged his lips across the back as he pulled it out. Maybe something like… ‘Stop it, stop it, why do you have to be so weird!? Stupid sexy Gentaro…!’

“Mmn~!” Gentaro moaned softly, and Ramuda nearly fumbled a strawberry slice, barely catching it in his palm before it hit his lap.

When he looked up, his eyes were accusatory, angry maybe. He wasn’t going to be toyed with, it seemed, and in a blink, he was also half-lidden, a small, gasping sigh escaping his lips as he dragged the slice across them, sticking out his tongue just enough to pull it into his mouth.

Lewd.

Gentaro was pink too now, despite himself, but he gave no pretense that he was going to stop. No, if Ramuda was going to join this game, he was going to have to play to win. He was no stranger to Ramuda’s flirting, both at his most playful and at his more intense levels. Girls were games to him and he was always eager to play. It was fun enough to watch, especially knowing that it was mostly a pretense, like any idol’s adoration. Surely this would be the same, and it would help them both laugh off the whole awkward ‘date’ thing.

Yet, there Ramuda was, with a tiny smirk on his lips, and an errant glance to see if any staff was watching, and then he plucked a cream-covered strawberry and made a great show of sucking the cream off of it. Just as Gentaro’s heart started to flutter, Ramuda’s teeth snapped the strawberry in half, a luxurious ‘mn!’ blossoming from his throat.

Was that a threat?

Gentaro leaned forward, his thumb brushing the corner of Ramuda’s lips, rubbing away an errant dollop of cream. Immediately, his thumb popped between his own lips, and he sucked it just as reverently, with a smile and a tiny flourish of tongue. He echoed his own ‘mn!’ back, and chuckled.

Ramuda wasn’t shy anymore, not looking away or playing innocent. No, this was something more like what Gentaro suspected was beneath the sugar coating. Not quite the threat he’d once earned, or the shadow that crossed his face when he thought no one was looking, but the same serious, almost predatory look that suggested his untold depth.

This was the Ramuda he was so interested in knowing, in finding out so much more about. This was the Ramuda who he was transfixed by, and who inspired him to poetry, though…

...though there was some sweetness to him earlier, wasn’t there? Something a bit innocent, and curious, and incongruent. Something a little silly, a little ignorant. Something that was almost what he tried so hard to project, but that Gentaro suspected he would hate to actually be. Which was real, and which was an act? Was it all an act? Was it all real?

He was barely fast enough to catch Ramuda’s foot beneath the table as he slipped down, the movement surprisingly subtle, as if he’d done it before. His sneaker was still damp from the rain, the toe pointed and just barely missing the crotch of his jeans. He held it firmly, and Ramuda simply smiled back at him, smugly dragging his spoon around his parfait.

Gentaro smiled back pleasantly.

“You’re going to get my jeans all wet if you try that,” he warned.

“Haven’t I already?” Ramuda asked sweetly, putting the spoon into his mouth, brow raised.

What a demon. What a terrible, loathsome creature he was. Gentaro was impressed, barely able to suppress the chill the insinuation gave him. He had, perhaps, underestimated his opponent, but that was his own fault. He opened his mouth to reply, but Ramuda’s gaze was at the side of the table, innocent as ever, head tilting back and forth happily as the waitress asked if he needed anything.

“Nope!” he answered cheerfully. “I have everything I need ri~ight here!”

Gentaro caught his eye for just a split second before he also turned to the waitress.

“We’re thoroughly enjoying our time here, thank you.”

Ramuda giggled and the sneaker pressed forward imperceptibly, nearly touching him. Gentaro waited until the waitress retreated before scooping the remaining lychee from his parfait and dumping them into Ramuda’s half-empty bowl.

“A truce,” he clarified, and Ramuda pouted.

“Oh? Are you afraid you’re going to lose?”

“No,” Gentaro asserted. “I’m afraid you’re going to make us miss the fireflies.”

Ramuda seemed to consider this rather seriously, then picked up a lychee on his spoon and happily shoved it into his mouth. There was nothing sexy about the motion, nothing exaggerated or ostentatious in any way, and Gentaro could only assume his peace offering was accepted. A few moments later, Ramuda retracted his foot, and Gentaro sighed softly, shaking his head.

“You know how to keep one on his toes,” he commented.

“I know how to keep you on my toes,” Ramuda corrected, and Gentaro could say nothing in response.

What a strange pair, the two of them. Usually, the days were bright and their adventures full of energy. Usually, they were running all over town, or causing mischief somewhere, but this was so very different. Did he prefer one to the other? It was hard to say. Or rather, it was hard to admit. The way Ramuda kept taking him off guard, surprising him even where he thought he knew him well, it was thrilling in a way he was ashamed of, but he could purge all of these feelings easily. He would simply write up a new young adult romance and be praised endlessly for it. Once on the page, he wouldn’t have to worry about the feelings he’d felt in real life. It would be fiction, then.

It was fiction now, wasn’t it?

And yet… some part of him did not wish it to be so.

“I always thought Gentaro was only that way with Dice,” Ramuda commented, though his attention was focused on scraping the melted ice cream and soggy cornflakes from the bottom of his bowl.

“Are you jealous?” Gentaro deflected, returning his focus to his own parfait.

“Super jealous,” Ramuda said, though it was hard to fully judge his sincerity.

“Then I can be this way with you as well,” he offered, and for just a moment, Ramuda seemed to smile genuinely.

“Wow,” Ramuda said after another bite, leaning back wistfully. “Fling Posse sure is getting serious…”

“Never,” Gentaro lied, and they both laughed.

For the last of their parfaits, they were mostly focused on eating, though Ramuda wasted some time on his phone checking the notifications on both his own and ‘Gentaro’s posts. Gentaro dutifully muted his notifications on all of the posts, and after a moment, took a photo of their empty parfaits and posted it as a reply to ‘his’ previous post.

The check arrived on a cute plastic clipboard and Gentaro threw himself onto the table, hands clasped above his head. ‘Dice’ begged the bill to be covered and Ramuda accepted.

“I’ll pay for the fireflies!” he swore, and Ramuda waved his hand as he bounced over to the counter. Gentaro took some time to fix his clothes, tugging here and there to settle them in a more flattering way, wondering if his hair was ruined by his theatrics. He took a moment to look at himself in his selfie camera and he looked just as he always did.

Well, that was a lie.

He looked like he was really enjoying himself. He still looked lightly flushed, energized by their antics. He looked like he cared what others thought, or at least what Ramuda thought. He looked like he was antsy to see their fireflies, and like there were stories he was waiting to tell once they arrived. He looked eager, and embarrassed, and fond.

The rain was a bit lighter when they stepped outside, and he opened the umbrella again before guiding Ramuda into its protection. They wandered toward the botanical garden, and Gentaro rather hoped he knew where he was talking about.

“I’ve never been here before either, you know,” he mused, and Ramuda tilted his head.

“Really? Then how do you know it’s worth going to?”

“I’ve seen fireflies elsewhere,” he elaborated. “This place is supposedly very popular during this time of year, but I usually prefer somewhere more natural.”

“Like where?”

“Like an actual riverbank.”

“Huh? Why a riverbank?” Ramuda glanced up at Gentaro, suspicious of a lie.

“That’s where they live,” Gentaro replied, pretending not to notice. “I think they live underwater for part of their lives, then hatch and take flight.”

“Sounds like a lie to me,” Ramuda decided, focusing back on their path.

“It might be,” Gentaro confessed. “But either way, they like clean rivers and ponds, and it’s nice to go see them without all the lights of the city.”

“Why would you ever give up Shibuya?” Ramuda asked somewhat loudly, and spun out of the umbrella’s reach for a moment, giggling. Gentaro found himself smiling at him, and Ramuda walked backwards for a few steps, hands clasped behind his back. “You’re not going to abandon us to live in the countryside, are you?”

“I could never,” Gentaro soothed. “But sometimes it’s nice to go somewhere natural and quiet. If you like the fireflies, perhaps we should go out to the countryside for a night and enjoy them there.”

“Sounds boring,” Ramuda teased, turning on his heel and marching forward once again.

“I will make sure it is anything but.”

What was he even insinuating, at this point? He could only guess. What fantasy was he forming in his mind now? Maybe… a cute yukata for Ramuda. He could find something appropriate for a young girl that was the right size and design. He could go for something more traditional, too, if that suited the mood. Maybe they would weave their own cages and pretend they existed in a time long ago. Maybe they would pick a place that had all sorts of proper festival accoutrement. Maybe he would pack them a careful picnic, and they would find a big, old tree, and they would have a light dinner and heavy petting…

What an imagination on this one.

Why was he even thinking so much about Ramuda this way? It wasn’t as if the sight of him filled him with terrible lust. He wasn’t what one would normally consider sexy, though obviously he had the potential to overcome his cutesy exterior on that front. Sex wasn’t something alien to his image, even with the sugar-coating, but it still didn’t entrance him the way it did their trendy fans. Why, then, was he thinking about it now? Flirting and playing with him, mixing complicated truths into assumed lies? Why was he watching him as he walked and smiling at him? Why did he feel compelled to touch him, maybe brush his fingers against his neck, press a kiss just behind his ear?

This was getting out of hand.

Maybe he was talking himself into this. He’d seeded the plot himself, written hundreds of words on the subject in his own mind. Collaborative fiction though it may be, it was still just pretty daydreams. Their flirting was just teasing, the same ‘who will give up first’ game he played countless times before. He did it enough with Dice, both in front of Ramuda and privately, and he certainly wasn’t madly in love with him as a result.

Was he?

Now he was really getting carried away.

He could be anyone, though, if he set his mind to it. He could plan out their evening, he could seduce Ramuda, he could write a truly heartbreaking confession, and perhaps fall asleep with his nose buried in that mop of pink hair. And… for what? To wake up, declare it a fun adventure and revert to the way things had been now that the game had run its course? And would Ramuda brush it off as easily? Would he?

Truth and fiction, reality and lies, what did any of it matter? They were both strange and wonderful creatures, as much fact as fantasy, so why should they worry about which one anything in particular was? Ramuda hadn’t questioned anything, had followed his lead and taken it himself at times. He should continue as well, this careful dance of theirs, a twirl here, a dip there, and when the story unfolded, it would be perfect as it was.

Perfect.

What an odd sentiment he kept falling on. Maybe he should scold himself now instead of Dice. Too many repetitions, not enough impact. Find better, more fitting words. Suitable! Tolerable! Fine! Enough! Acceptable! Okay! Fun! Engaging! Enthralling! Intoxicating!

Gentaro reached out, pulling Ramuda out of the way of a puddle, sparing his sneakers the muddy splash. Ramuda stumbled only slightly, then fell right back into step with a little giggle.

“Gentaro is always looking out for little ol’ me,” he said to no one in particular.

“Someone must, should it not be me?” Gentaro replied to the air over Ramuda’s head.

“Should it be you?” Ramuda asked, and his head lolled back just enough for his eye to catch sight of Gentaro.

“You’re the one who chose me.”

“Mn!” Ramuda avoided answering directly, turning around again to walk backwards. “You’re the one who actually joined right away! I can be super, SUPER annoying, but you joined before I even had to stalk you like Dice!”

“You did stalk me, actually,” Gentaro reminded, though he couldn’t help a tiny smile.

“And then you did it back, so we’re even! No more stalking required!”

There was a firmness that betrayed his feelings on the matter, but those had been made clear long ago. If he’d wondered how Ramuda felt about it now, this was enough to reassure him that there had been no change. That was fine.

“Your secrets are safe with me,” Gentaro reassured, and he held a single finger to his lips with a wink. “No one would believe me anyway.”

“The Prince of Lies!” Ramuda declared, but he laughed and spun back around, running forward out of the umbrella’s halo. He hesitated where he could stay driest, then skipped off to the next bit of relative safety, giggling all the while.

It was cute, but still a punishment. A literal, physical distance between them to remind Gentaro of his place. Ramuda allowed him to be as close as he was, despite all of his insistence that they join, and that allowance could be revoked at any time. Gentaro didn’t change his pace at all, watching as Ramuda stopped for a moment to chat up some girls inside a shop from the doorway, striking several cute poses before hopping off again.

He could be more objective now that they weren’t so close and his temptations were at bay. Ramuda was performing ‘Ramuda’ again, and that was nothing special. It was just his usual façade, nothing particularly interesting, nothing near bewitching. He almost felt silly for his daydreaming, for letting himself get so carried away by his false narrative.

As if to spite him, Ramuda did a little twirl and jumped into a puddle, splashing water everywhere.

The further they walked, the less Shibuya felt like Shibuya, the excitement of the Scramble falling off with each block. Gentaro looked at his phone beneath the umbrella as he walked, double-checking the address of the botanical garden to make sure they wouldn’t get lost. The area was looking decidedly residential and doubts had started to creep into his mind. That didn’t stop Ramuda, of course, who seemed content to rush forward a few meters at a time, always just out of reach as he surveyed the strip, peering into shops and lingering to read menu boards. He certainly didn’t know where they were going, and he looked more and more out of place as they continued on, but he never seemed to hesitate plunging forward.

That was certainly something admirable about Ramuda. Even as Gentaro gave pause, Ramuda leapt to the next awning, only a brief glance to make sure he hadn’t been abandoned betraying any deeper concerns. He was aware of his surroundings, made sure nothing changed without his notice, but maintained an air of lightheartedness and simple joy, of fascination and wonder with the world, even as it failed to take such an interest in him. He never seemed self-conscious or unsure, never seemed to second-guess himself or refuse to march bravely forward. It was certainly part of his extroverted mask, but there was a truth in it, too, somewhere beneath the polished pink veneer.

Ramuda finally allowed him to catch up as they reached a large intersection, taking a spot between two cut-out cartoon elephants that flanked a pharmacy. By the time Gentaro reached him, he was fairly wet, but simply leapt to life again, beaming and giggling as he tucked back beneath the umbrella.

“I’m enjoying the rain festival!” Ramuda announced, wrapping himself around Gentaro’s arm.

His embrace was soggy, but welcome, and Gentaro supposed this was payback for earlier when he had done much the same. He saw symbolism in all of this, and maybe Ramuda had meant it for him to see. He never doubted that depth or intention, and hoped to himself that it was the case. Either way, his punishment was over and their date had resumed properly. He smiled and set a hand on Ramuda’s shoulder, holding him with the softest pressure at his side.

“Almost there,” Gentaro promised, and Ramuda laughed softly and gave a small ‘yay~!’ in response.

Turning down the side street, they were flanked by drab buildings and concrete, the last short walk to their destination anything but lively. Gentaro didn’t usually worry much about standing out, but it was easier to blend into the monochrome when you were dressed in kind. He felt garish in his yellow and neon, especially in this part of Shibuya. The crosswalk didn’t even have a light here, and as the garden appeared before them, it failed to dazzle in any way. The building wasn’t huge and the banner near the top announcing it was just as understated as anything else.

An employee greeted them under the entrance ledge.

“How much?” Ramuda asked, looking at Gentaro with the expectation of repayment.

“No charge during firefly viewings!” the employee replied.

Ramuda’s lips pursed, and he looked suspiciously between the employee and Gentaro, suddenly aware that he had been tricked. Gentaro laughed softly, since it had not been his intention, but was the outcome all the same.

“I will gladly pay for us both,” he announced, and for a moment, mimed giving away some money. Ramuda stuck out his tongue and made his way through the door as Gentaro collapsed their umbrella.

Inside, there was a small line, but it seemed, like most places, somewhat emptied by the rain. Ramuda was gaping immediately, his momentary petulance forgotten, taking in the foliage completely awe-stricken. What little they could see outside was easily and readily dwarfed by the amount inside. It rose up from beds, potted specimens dotted the pathways, and even the overhangs dripped with vines of all sorts. Somewhere inside, there was a water feature, the sound complimenting the quiet murmuring of the assorted guests.

Gentaro looked across the line and found it skewed rather young. It seemed to mostly be families with small children, which he supposed made sense. If they lived in the city, it would be hard to find fireflies, so this was the best they could do to make sure their children had the experience at all. His eyes roamed back to Ramuda, who had strayed as far as seemed appropriate from the line, leaning this way and that to see more of the plants further inside.

Even if Ramuda had lived in Shibuya his whole life, surely someone at some point had taken him to see fireflies. Or mentioned it. Or… something. Anything. He seemed so uniquely ignorant, and with so many children a third of his age or less waiting in line, Gentaro was left wondering again just how Ramuda had ended up… Ramuda. He seemed well-adjusted enough, even if he played otherwise, and he didn’t seem to lack in basic life skills like Dice. He was running a company, seemingly by himself, and successfully. Someone had raised him and he seemed educated… but nothing quite matched up on deeper inspection.

Still… there was something cute about him now, about the genuine way he seemed to be taking in their surroundings. It wasn’t put-on wonder, but real interest and delight in the colourful, exotic plants that were housed here. Maybe he’d had strict parents who didn’t let him be a child and that was why he so aggressively feigned childish behaviours. Maybe he grew up in some weird artist retreat and was intentionally cut off from society and culture to foster a pure and unique creative perspective. Maybe he was raised by the government and only taught what he needed to know to blend in for secret missions he was deployed on. Maybe he was an alien scientist, come to integrate into human society so that he could study them up close and report back to his home planet.

Honestly, any idea was as likely as the next, so far as Gentaro was concerned.

“Do we get to walk around?” Ramuda asked after a minute or so, returning to Gentaro’s side.

“After the fireflies, I imagine,” Gentaro said, looking to where the line disappeared into another room. He wasn’t sure why, but he had expected the air to be filled with them, the whole place glowing softly in the night. A separate room made sense, logistically speaking, and since there seemed to be several carnivorous exotics growing in the main room, perhaps it was for the best that they be contained.

“There’s stairs going up,” Ramuda reported and Gentaro confirmed with a nod.

“There’s a seating area and a library there,” he elaborated and Ramuda was delighted.

“So that’s why Gentaro knows this place!” he announced.

“The library is only for plant books,” Gentaro corrected. “But it might be nice to bring a book yourself and read here. They serve free tea.”

That seemed good enough for Ramuda, and his attention returned to the line, trying to get a sneak preview of their fireflies. The line was moving fast enough, if maybe a little too fast, and there was a strange knot in Gentaro’s stomach that twisted worse the closer they got. The moment they stepped inside, his worst fears were confirmed.

The room was very small and the exhibit even smaller. There was netting up to contain the fireflies, and a riverbank inset meant to replicate their natural habitat. Woodland stickers had been smoothed over the walls and the lights dimmed for both firefly and viewer, but the number of bugs was… underwhelming.

It was all… underwhelming.

Gentaro could feel his stomach clench and the embarrassment brewing inside of him. This had seemed a spontaneous and fun idea, and then something he’d waxed romantic about, but the reality was certainly nothing he had planned on either end of that scale. He opened his mouth to apologize, or maybe make a wry comment to play it off, but he stopped short as his eyes fell on Ramuda.

If he had seemed enthralled before, he was transcending the bounds of excitement now. It was a surprise he’d made no sound, scarcely even moved, but in the low light, his expression was priceless. A true happiness, nothing stiff or put-on, nothing mean-spirited or sarcastic. His hands hovered before him, as if he’d planned to catch one before realizing he was not allowed, but his spirits would not be dampened regardless. The fireflies, to their credit, were hovering lazily in the humid air, blinking in short, frequent bursts.

And then it was over, and the line was moving forward, ushering in the next few visitors. Gentaro felt a small pang of anxiety, surprised somehow that they were expected to move on so quickly, worrying that Ramuda would protest, but he fell into step more readily than some of the children, though his eyes never left the net.

Back in the main room, they were left to wander on their own, the viewing no more than a tease and far too short to be a full event. Ramuda turned to him, and his eyes all but sparkled in his delight. He, thankfully, wasn’t going to complain.

“Did you see them?!” he asked hurriedly. “They actually lit up! How do they do that?!”

“You would think they would have someone to explain that sort of thing,” Gentaro said absently, his hand resting against his lips. “There weren’t even signs, but I supposed you wouldn’t be able to read them in the dark if there were.”

“I bet Gentaro knows about the fireflies!” Ramuda said, wrapping himself around his companion’s arm. “Tell me, tell me!”

Gentaro couldn’t help but chuckle, beginning to move away from the firefly room and along the winding path.

“You wouldn’t like to hear what I know about the firefly’s light,” he replied. Ramuda’s pout was immediate, brows furrowed and nostrils flaring, and he shook Gentaro’s arm in a contained tantrum.

“I want to know!” he protested.

Gentaro leaned down conspiratorily, as if this was a great and terrible secret, and he could feel Ramuda tense in anticipation as his lips brushed his ear.

“The light is the flickering soul of an ancient warrior, rising from the fields in which he was slain, wandering endlessly through the night in his firefly’s lantern.”

“Th-they’re--!”

“Ghosts!” Gentaro whispered, lips curling into a smile.

In a blink, Ramuda had darted away, nearly bowling over a family as he made for the stairs, shrieking in fear. Gentaro watched as he disappeared onto the balcony level, hiding a soft chuckle in his hand. Ramuda had insisted, but perhaps that was a bit cruel. It certainly wasn’t making this a good date, but at least it distracted from the disappointing display. Gentaro slowly made his way upstairs, unsurprised to find Ramuda curled in one of the plastic chairs, knees pressed against his chest, hood over his head as if it could hide him from the ghosts.

“Ah, the great war of Meiji-dori Avenue,” he began, gesturing vaguely to the way they had come. “A terrible and bloody battle where all of the warriors died curiously in a single 2 square meter space…”

“Enough! Stop it, stop it, stop it!” Ramuda cried, shaking his head, hands clapping over his ears.

Gentaro sat across from him, a strange guilt blooming in his chest as he looked at Ramuda, his companion clearly upset by all of this.

“‘Tis only a lie,” he soothed.

Ramuda didn’t seem to care, his arms crossing over his head, balling him even further. He was so small, so tightly curled, and… perhaps trembling slightly. It was a pathetic sight, and his guilt only worsened. Gentaro’s gaze pulled away, looking back out over the garden, at the plants and milling visitors, at the idea he’d fantasized about and so thoroughly ruined.

Why did he do this? A bad habit, if he wanted to avoid responsibility. He was used to retelling legends and ancient stories, reciting poems and plays and long passages of literature. It seemed natural to impart that knowledge, even if the contents of the stories were upsetting. Stories were made to make one feel, so it was only proving the visceral effectiveness if Ramuda was so shaken.

But… that wasn’t the truth, was it? He schemed this, even if only briefly. He used it to deflect from what he saw as his own inadequacy. The embarrassment of a ‘firefly viewing’ that could’ve been more miraculous in a cardboard box theatre with a taped-in phone playing a video. He had promised a date, even as a joke, and they had enjoyed one… until now. Until he did this. Ramuda was not critical of the display, and for a moment, the way he clung to his arm, the way his joy radiated…

“Long ago,” Gentaro began, voice soft enough Ramuda may not even hear. “Tucked carefully in the petals of a giant lotus lily, lived the king of the fireflies, Hi-o, and his daughter, the lovely Hotaru-hime. While she was a child, Hotaru-hime stayed in the safety of the petals as her father took to the night sky, until the day when her own light began to shine. It grew brighter and brighter until the whole lotus was alight, like a lantern floating on the water.”

Ramuda moved from the corner of his eye, but Gentaro did not look at him, still facing the garden below.

“My daughter is now of age,” he continued, using his best stately king voice. “She may fly with me, and if a proper suitor comes, she may marry as she pleases.”

Ramuda shifted again, still curled but attentive, at least as long as it appeared Gentaro was not watching.

“And so each night, the king and the princess took to the skies, visiting all of the lands in their domain, from the lush rice fields to the far indigo meadows. Hotaru-hime was so beautiful that a swarm of suitors joined the procession each night, all vying for her attention, but alas! She would entertain none of them.

“Said she,” Gentaro began, then sweetened his tone, resting his cheek demurely upon his shoulder for emphasis. “‘I have met many admirers, but I do not wish a husband of any of them. I will not go flying tonight, but instead they may court me here. I shall present them with a task that only a fool would attempt. Should they love their lives more than they love me, I will not have them. Should one succeed, I will be his bride.’

“Hotaru-hime donned her most resplendent robes and sat upon her throne in the centre of the lotus, and so she waited for her suitors to arrive. No sooner did the sun disappear and the twilight darken into night than the suitors began to call, each sure of himself and ready to prove himself to the princess.”

There were a few visitors standing beneath him, Gentaro realized. He had begun telling the story louder as Ramuda listened, and any who heard him below gathered for the tale. He tilted his head, catching sight of his companion to judge his mood, and Ramuda peered back from beneath his hood like a cat hiding under a bed.

That was good enough, for now.

“To all of her suitors, Hotaru-hime had but one simple task: bring me fire and I will be your bride. This is what she told each in turn, from the glimmering golden beetle to the bug black as lamp-smoke, to the dragonfly and moth, and to any night-insect who came to her court. They professed their love, they boasted of their skills, sang their night-songs and promised undying loyalty, but she was unmoved.

“‘I will wed the one who can bring me fire,’ she said, and she bid them leave.

“That’s stupid,” Ramuda interrupted. Gentaro stopped, turning to look at him fully.

“Surely,” he answered.

“That’s stupid,” Ramuda repeated, still pouting. “Why would anyone bother with something like that? Everyone knows what happens to bugs around fire.”

“And now they also know why,” Gentaro mused, then continued his tale.

“Now, each of the night-insects was determined to win the hand of the princess, and each thought himself bold and clever enough to complete the task. Some were less clever and more headstrong, and so was his fate, when his strong head met the wood and iron of a house, and alas! He fell dead to the ground.

“Another flew more carefully inside, and straight toward a dish of oil with a pitch wick that a lowly student studied by. He landed on the edge, thinking he may cross the oil and steal his flame at the base, but alas! His wings became so heavy that he drowned.

“Seeing this, yet another tried, circling closer and closer, reaching out to grab a tiny spark, but alas! His wings caught alight, and he burned to ash before he could even fall.

“Again and again, they tried, each thinking he could learn from the prior’s mistakes, and yet each found another failure, and they all died in agony. As the morning came, the humans saw all of their bodies and remarked, ‘Hotaru-hime must have had many lovers last night.’”

“Geez!” Ramuda interrupted again. “How many times do you need to watch someone burn to death before you think maybe you’ll burn to death too? That’s why this is stupid! You can’t just grab fire like that!”

“Eventually, some of the more clever bugs realized this, and they sought to find other solutions to the princess’ task. Perhaps not fire, but something that shone just as brightly in the night. One tried to snatch the glint from a cat’s eye, but I’m certain you know how that ended…”

Gentaro paused and Ramuda’s hands rose before him, curled into paw-like fists.

“Nyaa-nyaa!” he announced, then chomped the air, winking and rubbing his head with a paw as he mimed eating the bug.

“Just so,” Gentaro praised. “Some went to the sea shore to steal some fish scales that glowed, yet others to the mountains where mushrooms lit the rotting logs. These were safe to handle, but the journey was so great that the ‘fire’ had died by the time they arrived, and they had nothing to show for their efforts.

“By the dozens, the night-insects were dying, all vainly hoping that they might be the one who could succeed. Each morning, the grieving started anew, and the funerals continued without end, until finally they caught the attention of a firefly prince.

“‘What is happening?’ Hi-maro demanded, seeing his fellows stricken and mournful. They told him of Hotaru-hime and her quest, as well as tales of her immaculate beauty. Hi-maro fell in love immediately and resolved to court her himself.”

“Idiot,” Ramuda scoffed, resting his chin on his knees.

“And so the prince gathered his battalions and set off to court her, and with them they brought their twinkling light. The lotus was completely bathed in it as Hi-maro arrived, and yet somehow Hotaru-hime was brighter still. Through the night, the prince and princess wooed, and finally a wedding was announced. They fashioned a palanquin from white lotus petals, and she was ferried to the prince’s palace by hundreds of his twinkling subjects to be wed.”

“Is that why there are so many?” Ramuda asked.

“A promenade for the hard-won princess,” Gentaro confirmed. “And so it became the fashion that all firefly princesses would assign such a task, demanding fire in exchange for their hand, and so to this day, foolhardy night-insects sacrifice themselves, all thinking to bring such brilliance to their brides. You can see them hovering around the lamps every night, and their bodies littered when the dawn arrives.”

Gentaro was about to end his story, but something caught his eye. He rose, reaching slowly over Ramuda’s head, cupping his hands together. Ramuda tilted his head back to look up, watching as Gentaro settled once more, holding his hands out as he had before.

“I’m not falling for that again,” Ramuda muttered, lips pursed.

But as he parted his hands, inside the darkness came a flash of light, then another, a single escaped firefly captured inside.

Ramuda sat up immediately, peering into his hands, unsure what to do. He seemed timid still despite the love story, the threat of ghosts still on his mind. Gentaro waited patiently until the firefly crawled over his fingers to the back of his hand. It hesitated, then spread its wings, lifting off with a few signal flashes.

In an instant, Ramuda scrambled onto the table, and doing as Gentaro had shown, he reached out to cup it into his hands. The table shifted as he leaned, tipping over toward the balcony and the garden below.

At the last second, Gentaro caught Ramuda, and Ramuda caught the firefly, and all three fell back down into the plastic chair, announcing the outcome with a terrible clatter of upended table and screech of chair legs.

“Woah,” Ramuda said belatedly, blinking at Gentaro as he let out a shaky sigh.

Gentaro had nothing to say, his heart pounding from the panic. He looked down at Ramuda as he caught his breath, and Ramuda looked down at his hands. Slowly, they parted, and safely inside the firefly flashed.

“Young lovers catch fireflies to watch the war of insect courtship,” Gentaro continued. “It brings them hope that their own suitors will dare as much, through fire and flood, to prove their love.”

“That was pretty daring,” Ramuda commented, watching the firefly crawling in his cupped palms.

“Anything for you, Hotaru-hime,” Gentaro said with a laugh, and he pressed a soft kiss to the top of Ramuda’s head.

Ramuda didn’t respond, simply turned his hands over and over, keeping the firefly occupied and contained, watching it flash over and over all the while. Gentaro watched him, and the firefly, and then looked up to where it had come from. There were no others above them, no mass release or accidental exodus to blame. Just a single firefly, here to provide the perfect ending to his love story. Or, perhaps more aptly, the perfect beginning.

“So,” Ramuda said, catching the firefly as it tried to lift off again. “I’m Hotaru-hime.”

“I think so,” Gentaro confirmed. “You have the same bright glow, I think, and you are certainly much coveted and oft-courted.”

Should he say something else? Anything more would be terribly cringey, wouldn’t it? Was he going to commit to this silly infatuation? Indulge this strange fantasy? He’d already… kissed Ramuda, just now. He’d already said he loved him, just an hour ago. How much worse could he get?

“And here, I have brought you fire, princess,” he said softly, allowing himself to be as fond as he felt.

“Nuh-uh!” Ramuda replied immediately, cupping the firefly in his hands again. “He brought his own fire! You’re definitely the bug who gets eaten by the cat! And Dice is the cat!”

“Is that so?”

Gentaro couldn’t keep himself from laughing, and Ramuda laughed with him. It was the only way to keep any of this from getting too out of hand. An eye for an eye, a moment ruined exchanged for another ruined moment. He wasn’t upset at all and instead, Gentaro found himself hugging Ramuda tighter against him, their foreheads touching as they laughed.

Maybe this was love, for them. They weren’t the sort of people who would write a romance for the ages, become the stuff of legends, but they could be… who they wanted to be, and with each other, who accepted them for who that was. That made his heart flutter, and he wondered, with their faces too close, if Ramuda felt fluttery too. He hoped, somewhat desperately, that the feeling was mutual, and that they could find themselves together, for as long as this lasted.

“Shall we go?” Gentaro finally asked, pulling back enough to look Ramuda in the face. Ramuda looked back up at him, and smiled widely, giving a short, sharp nod.

“Let’s go!”

For the third time, Gentaro opened the umbrella as they went outside, but the rain had stopped. The clouds promised more, as did the distant rumble of thunder, but there were holes in the cover now, the city’s reflected glow parted by swaths of starlight.

Ramuda bolted past him into the middle of the street and then thrust his hands up, opening them wide. After a moment the firefly took off, flashing its way into the sky.

“You brought it out here?” Gentaro asked rhetorically. What he meant to ask was ‘why’, but that didn’t seem to matter now that it was out of reach. 

“Don’t you think it will be lonely?”

“It may be lonely, but it’s free,” Ramuda replied, watching its path until Gentaro was certain he couldn’t still trace it.

“Maybe it will find some other lonely-but-free fireflies in the city,” he mused.

“Or maybe it’ll become a twinkling star instead,” Ramuda supplied, finally turning back to Gentaro, smiling a rather genuine, if slightly sad, smile. Gentaro moved toward him, then rested a hand on his shoulder and pulled him back under the umbrella as they started their walk back toward Empty Candy.

“Maybe we’ll all become twinkling stars,” he murmured, and at his side, Ramuda pressed just a little closer.

“Together.”