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Starlight slants down the poles of the small yacht, sliding off the tall billowing ivory sails and almost seems to fall into the sea. The small sparkly lamps adorn the sky, splashes of iridescent silver among miles and miles of open canvas of velvety sapphire, and they shimmer, ever so lightly, ethereal and ghost-like, on the calm surface of the mirror-like ocean that occasionally lets ripples swirl over it, seemingly reflecting the serenity in Shuichi’s heart.
There isn’t a single sight of land for miles, only sea and sky for as long as one could see. There’s a thin layer of mist coating the water surface, constantly attempting to touch and let its frost spread over the sea, hovering and spinning and twirling in its graceful dance as it blurs the line between object and reflection, never stopping once in its euphoric pirouettes. Shuichi feels his heart leap and twirl along with the mist, the butterflies in his stomach joining in on this erratic gyration, as he watches the performance the mist gives. It’s as if a gossamer veil of snow hangs over the sea, letting the starlight trickle through to create small shimmery sparks fading in and out of the fog shrouding the waters. He can’t help but sigh in astonishment at the scene before him, the scene that seems so unreal, so otherworldly, that it might as well be a hyperrealistic painting, an artist’s portrayal of their wonderland.
Shuichi’s never seen this many stars at once before this trip. It isn’t all that surprising, considering he lives in Tokyo- Tokyo with its roaring speakers and chatter all day long, its countless neon signs and streetlamps that light up the night, loud, bright, exuberant Tokyo- but there’s something about the night sky that even though he’s seen it every night for three weeks, it still manages to render him speechless, to leave him in complete awe every time. In Japan, back at home, the most he can see from his balcony through the thick charcoal fog that coats the city permanently is a star or two spluttering weakly as it coughs and chokes on the immense light pollution. But here, standing at the stern of the boat, everything is laid out, in the widest canvas he’s ever seen. It’s all so clear, so bright, and so perfect.
Perfect, because he isn’t alone on this trip. Perfect, because he has his best friend along with him to guide his way. He spins around to look back at the ship, where, up on the balcony of the small second floor, where Rantaro is pulling at the ropes of the sails (the yacht has an engine, but they prefer not to use it, and they don’t need to anyway with the strong winds here) which almost seem to fly in his hands. He handles them with ease and familiarity, as if he knows every single inch of the bonds pulling at the fluttering triangular fabric, knows every knot and all the spaces he should control with.
The green-haired boy notices him staring up, and smiles at him. Shuichi’s heart melts at the sight of his smile- it’s so warm and soothing, reminding him of sweet sunshine that engulfed him in a tight embrace on summer afternoons, sipping warm coffee in their local cozy coffee shop with the soft sunlight gently streaming from the window and shining over him and his best friend. It’s such a contrast to the wind, the harsh, cold, unforgiving wind that pierced at Shuichi’s back with a thousand deadly cold ice-rimmed daggers, that chilled him to the bone and sent shivers down his spine.
Shuichi takes one last look at the stern of the yacht, and makes his way to the staircase that leads to the second floor. The yacht isn’t exactly big, but it’s obviously well loved, and expensive (not that that was surprising in the least- Rantaro’s family is extremely rich, after all). It’s an off-white, and designed in a minimalistic way, with a room below deck containing exactly thirteen beds in total (Rantaro doesn’t go down there, never even shows Shuichi around that floor or opens the trapdoor that leads downstairs, which is completely understandable), soft alabaster coloured cushioned chairs littered all around the starboard (Shuichi counts exactly fifteen; he doesn’t ask about it, though. He has enough tact to know that Rantaro doesn’t like to think about it), a lavish master bedroom which they sleep in, and a second floor above the master bedroom that holds a sofa and a coffee table, and a balcony on either side to control the sails.
He’s greeted with the smell of vodka when he enters the second floor. Rantaro’s sitting on the wooden floorboards on the other side of the balcony (that is, the side without the sails and ropes), gazing out at the scenery around them, a couple of small bottles of said alcohol lying around him, two or three emptied and rolling around the ground. Shuichi calls his name, and he turns, smiling at Shuichi.
Rantaro leans on him once he sits down beside the boy, and Shuichi immediately reddens and prays that Rantaro can’t hear his heart racing at a million miles an hour. He can smell the vodka on the other’s breath, and he says “You know you’re not supposed to drink, right? You’re way underage.”
The boy pouts. “I’m fifteen!” he protests, his words slurring together ever so slightly. Shuichi laughs, trying to ignore how lightheaded and nervous he feels, as his best friend grabs onto his arm, and there’s barely any space between the two. He can feel his cheeks turning a rosy colour, his heart racing wildly, threatening to pump out of his body. Rantaro’s just so adorable when he’s drunk.
“The legal drinking age where we are is twenty,” Shuichi reminds the younger boy, who pouts again and nuzzles against Shuichi. He freezes in shock and anxiety takes over him completely for a second, what is happening why is he doing this ohmygoshwhatisgoingon- then he tries his best to soothe his nervousness, prevent his face from blushing even more (if that was even possible, that is- Shuichi can’t see himself, but he’s pretty certain he’s as red as a tomato right now), and shyly wraps his arm around the other boy.
They sit in the silence for a while, just enjoying each other’s company, and Shuichi feels so relaxed as he leans against Rantaro’s head (which is still on his shoulder) and they gaze up at the sky, at the countless stars spread over. Shuichi feels so small, so insignificant, as he looks at the Milky Way, at the wide galaxy that he is but a tiny part of. Expendable, to most of the world. The thought makes him slightly sad, but he can’t find it in himself to feel actually sad, not with his crush right there beside him, not with the tranquility the world is offering him right now.
He likes the quiet, cherishes every bit of it. His friends, lovely as they all are, are a loud and rambunctious bunch when they’re together, and he enjoys himself immensely when he’s with them- it takes his worries off his mind when their energy and cheerfulness surround him and cheer him up so effortlessly, helps him relax when he’s tense and tired- but he also enjoys the solitude, enjoys the calm and relishes the silence, the silence that helps him think and lets him live in a world inside his mind where everything is perfect and peaceful and right. It’s also why he likes being alone, it’s not as overwhelming as being around a lot of loud spirited people, and he can have his own space and his own thoughts, have a place where he can slow down a little in the hectic daily life of living in Tokyo, but he also loves having company and a shoulder to lean on when he’s thinking.
Rantaro’s often the person he shares such precious moments of serenity with, being someone who also loves the quiet, and he feels comfortable with his best friend- there’s just something special about sharing these pockets of breathing space with him, there’s just, this connection between the when they do, one that allows a small insight into the other’s brain, allows Shuichi to know what Rantaro is thinking and vice versa. It’s comfortable, and relieving, having someone to share in his joy and pain.
“The stars are really pretty,” he says softly.
Rantaro smiles. “Do you know any of the constellations?”
Shuichi shakes his head, “I was raised in the city, remember?” he lets a vague shadow of a smile slip on his face.
His best friend leans back, until he’s lying on the floor, and Shuichi follows. The sky, from this perspective, seems endless, surrounding him in a half dome shape. “That one is the little dipper,” Rantaro points at a group of stars. “The one there? At the end? That’s Polaris, the north star. I’m no Kaito and no astronomy expert, but to me, if you can find the little dipper, if you can find Polaris, you can find your way anywhere.” Rantaro smiles as his gaze softens. “It’s like the star that guides me.”
“You’re my Polaris,” Shuichi whispers faintly, and Rantaro turns in surprise to look at him, and his cheeks are red, and Shuichi smiles shyly. “I’d follow you anywhere willingly. You light my path.”
Rantaro goes even redder, and seems to be rendered speechless, and they return to that comfortable silence, but Shuichi is smiling as he looks up at the night,
“It should happen any minute now,” Rantaro suddenly speaks up, and Shuichi is, for a second, thrown completely off guard. He wasn’t aware that Rantaro had plans.
“What should happen-” Shuichi starts in complete confusion, but is cut off as Rantaro smiles cheekily and the sky, to his surprise, begins to change.
Shuichi stares in utter wonder as soft shades of coral and amethyst start to move across the sky, shifting in folds of smooth silk, as if someone brushed a stroke of watercolour across the canvas that is the night sky. Faint folds of emerald gradually glow brighter and brighter, as viridescent colours appear, overlapping over one another.
And all of a sudden, the sky explodes into colour. The lights on the sky seem to dance and they skirt around and over one another, glowing so brightly and yet they meld ever so softly into one another, and it’s absolutely magical. It coats the boat and the sails and everything in sheens of ever-changing pinks and violets and blues and greens, and it looks so surreal, like a scene out of a fairytale, a picture out of a dream. The lights twirl and spin in their elegant dance of happiness as they flit in and out of the mist and reflect everywhere. Shuichi can’t help but stare, jaw on the floor as he watches the sky, entirely mesmerised by the beauty of the aurora borealis.
“Did you plan this?” he asks Rantaro, but is unable to remove his eyes from the folds of fluttering silk almost flying across the sky. Rantaro laughs, a sweet tintinnabulation in the cool night air, but Shuichi notices a slight tinge in it, as if there’s something bothering him. He chooses not to comment on it, though- Rantaro will tell him when he’s ready, there’s no need to rush his troubled best friend. Nevertheless, his heart swells with delight as he receives the confirmation.
Shuichi turns to Rantaro, and the stars and sky are reflected in the younger boy’s eyes as Shuichi gazes into them in absolute delight. “Thank you… how can I ever thank you enough? This is wonderful- it’s- it’s so beautiful....” Not quite as beautiful as you are, but it comes quite close, he privately adds silently.
Rantaro smiles back at him, blinking, and Shuichi remembers (and feels ashamed to have forgotten at all, but the aurora captured his whole mind) that his best friend is drunk, and he’s a lightweight. But Rantaro’s always been quite law-abiding… Why would he suddenly get himself drunk?
Rantaro’s staring out at the horizon, and Shuichi follows his gaze. Above him, the stars shine and the aurora swirls around them, and Shuichi fervently hopes that it’ll bring Rantaro some peace of mind, that it’ll soothe him just a little bit.
They continue in silence for a while more, until Rantaro speaks again, his voice barely louder than a whisper.
“She reacted just like you did,” he mumbles almost incoherently, and Shuichi almost doesn’t catch his words.
“One of your sisters?” Shuichi speaks as softly as possible.
Rantaro sighs, letting a bitter smile grace his lips, and Shuichi can see the grief, still fresh in his lemongrass eyes. “Shu, do you know what Inori means?”
Shuichi shakes his head. Inori, he recalls, is Rantaro’s second youngest sister, the girl they’re on this journey to look for. She was lost in Finland when she was only five, four years ago. (They’re currently skirting around the seas near Iceland, but they’ll be there in two days, so he’s not surprised Rantaro’s thinking about her.)
Rantaro continues, “It means ‘prayer’.” He laughs bitterly. “Inori loved her name. She was so small, but she knew how to comfort people well, and she cared so much for everyone. She had me pray with her every night that peace would run in the family, that we’d all be happy, every day. Not once did she pray for herself at all. It was always ‘Minori this’ or ‘Shiori that’, or Yuki, or Ena, or Rina and Riku and Amaka and-” he breaks off, and awkwardly, Shuichi puts both his arms around his best friend as the green-haired boy buries his face in him. Rantaro’s not crying, at least he doesn’t seem to be, but Shuichi can tell how distraught he is.
He hates it, the helplessness he feels, his inability to help, and it’s almost as if he’s cursed as he watches his friend suffer from his own wrath, and he wishes to the stars above that they could comfort Rantaro, or let them switch places, because, gosh, he doesn’t want to see Rantaro suffer at all. He wants nothing more to help, to be able to do more than hug him tightly and hold him, but this is all he can do, and he hates it.
The younger boy inhales. “It’s her birthday today,” he whispers. “Four years ago, today, we saw the northern lights here too. She was so surprised and awestruck and you just, I’m sorry-” reminded me of her, Shuichi finishes for him in his mind. He feels so guilty, but he knows apologizing would just make Rantaro feel worse, so he doesn’t.
Rantaro pulls away, rubbing at his eyes, and gives Shuichi a smile- a smile that doesn’t quite reach his gorgeous lemongrass eyes. He stands up, and Shuichi follows, as they walk over to the handrail and Rantaro leans on it, smiling faintly as he looks at the sea.
Shuichi watches him as he swipes away the tears brimming at his eyes, and Rantaro notices him staring. His best friend smiles at him again, and starts to turn back to the sea and sky and horizon in front of them, but he spins back to face Shuichi and all of a sudden, before Shuichi can react, the boy’s lips are on his.
Shuichi is too shocked to react at first, but soon he comes to his senses and kisses back as Rantaro wraps his hands around him tightly. His lips taste vaguely of vodka, but Shuichi is no stranger to alcohol, and doesn’t really mind. He feels so surreal, like what he’s experiencing right now is a dream and he could wake up any second, and he feels his heart pumping out of his chest and his stomach doing somersaults. The world seems to stop spinning and to Shuichi, everything feels completely right. This is where he was meant to be from the beginning.
After a while, though, Shuichi breaks away reluctantly. He can’t take advantage of Rantaro, his best friend, like this, not when he’s drunk and upset over his sister, not when he knows Rantaro did that out of desperation, out of his need for an anchor. He’d never like me. Not like how I love him.
“You’re drunk,” he says, as gently as he can, “we can’t do something you’ll regret later on.”
In the starlight, Rantaro looks beautiful, and yet so far away. “I won’t regret it,” he says weakly.
Shuichi is forced to look away as he murmurs, “You will.” No one in their right mind wouldn’t. “Come on, we can discuss it in the morning, alright? It’s late, you should sleep. It makes you feel better.”
Rantaro nods, and soon he disappears down the stairs, leaving Shuichi alone, alone with the stars and the lights, and he touches his lips where they met Rantaro’s, and smiles in giddiness.
He’s not so naive as to think that Rantaro would like him back at all, not when he’s so irrational and anxious and annoying all the time. He knows, with dread pounding in his stomach, that it won’t ever happen again.
But maybe, just maybe, just for tonight, he can let this fantasy become reality.
Maybe, just for tonight, he can smile, and believe that one day, his best friend will like him back.