“Today’s the day,” Mei says with a smile, grabbing Kazuya’s hand and pulling him toward the edge of the universe.
Not that either of them had ever thought of it that way, not really. Not since the days when Kazuya questioned everything that came out of a teacher’s mouth, when Mei stomped his way to the head of the playground, all its synthetic steel and fiberglass encased delicately, delicately inside a cocoon, and always believed he would be chosen, that they would be chosen. There had never been any doubt about the they in Mei’s imagination.
They race past the plants in their membranes, different shapes and sizes like bubbles flowing their way up and slowly spooling their way apart. Plants that will never breathe real air, not the way that they will. Mei’s hand drifts apart from Kazuya’s, as if lamenting a lost gravity of its own.
“Watch where you’re going, Mei-chan,” one of the gardeners calls out. Mei giggles, burbles something back to her in his falsetto, the one Kazuya knows he uses with adults when he wants to get away with his round cheeks, his bluebell eyes, and doesn’t mean a word he says.
No one will tell them to watch out for anything ever again, when they’re free and out there, Released, the chosen ones. Kazuya’s not really as excited about it as Mei, if he’s honest, but he’d be lying if there wasn’t a part inside him that sharpened and unfolded at the call, metal plating that yearned to test its mettle against the wide black world of the Open.
“It’s funny that you’re the responsible one out of the two of you, Kazuya-kun,” the teachers always joked. Kazuya had to agree, biting his cheek; there was a certain irony to it, when he knew, despite his scores in everything, that he had the makings of a practical joker inside him.
“Come on! I wanna get one more look at it before we go,” Mei chatters excitedly, one corner of his uniform coming untucked. Kazuya’s eye flicks toward the patch of pale skin there, before rejoining the particular slope of Mei’s nose, the curve of his smile.
Kazuya quirks an eyebrow at him. “Why? We’ll be in it.”
“That’s exactly why! Beauty from a distance and all—ugh, did you even pay attention in literature class, Kazuya?”
“Did you?” Kazuya snorts, but he follows along anyway, because Mei’s in too good a mood to take any bait he dangles in front of him.
They navigate their way through the corridors, steel weaving a vaguely hexagonal web around them that they’ve traversed countless times since birth, and then together since they met in the training arena. Finally, the viewing deck is to the right, up a set of stairs that rattle beneath their running feet.
The Open lies beyond a window, wrapping around the entire deck so that all around them, all they can see is black with the little pinpoints of stars. It’s a short journey, the teachers tell them, a snooze and cruise in the pod and then they’ll be there. The new planet. The hope for the future generations, and them as two of its pioneers. It’s hard to feel awe at the magnitude of it all, hard to take it in, but Mei is talking, voice rapid-fire in his ear.
“I can’t wait to feel the ground beneath my feet. And grass—I think I’ll like grass, grass that’s everywhere, not just in the arboretums. We could run around, and play games on it, and—hey, Kazuya, we could even invent new games ourselves! Let’s do that.” Mei turns toward him, beaming. “What about you? What are you excited for?”
Kazuya thinks for a moment, eyes sliding toward the glass, the darkness beyond it. There’s all the sheer space to explore, of course, and the unknowns, and screened thinly behind them the why and how that he’ll reach forward and peel back with his own fingers.
But, “I’m excited,” he says after a moment, “to see the Sun.”
They’ve learned about the Sun, of course, with its entourage of planets, and now they’ll be able to see it from the ground. It’s always dark here on the station, of course, but secretly, peering at Mei from the side when he’s chewing a pencil in frustration or just talking, eyes aglow, Kazuya imagines it would look something like Mei, who shines brighter than the electricity that lights their surroundings anywhere inside the station. Mei could probably have an entourage, he thinks, but mostly he just hangs around Kazuya. Then again, Mei says the same about him sometimes.
“Me too,” Mei agrees, making a face. “I’m always cold.”
But your skin is warm, Kazuya doesn’t say, a tidbit of knowledge he gleaned one time when they were hiding in the art room long after they were supposed to go back to their chambers, pressed against each other behind the desk when one of the cleaners came.
“Can you imagine?” Mei asks, and now he’s looking at him, eyes so bright and piercing they look a little quizzical. “There’ll be so many firsts.”
Kazuya grins.
“Yeah, like the first time I step on solid ground before you.”
“Wha—! Shut up, don’t you dare! I’m gonna be the first, me!”
“Haha, sorry. You should’ve called dibs.”
“It’s not fair! That doesn’t count!”
“A law is a law is a law,” Kazuya teases, watches Mei turn red like Betelgeuse.
“I’ll fight you for it.”
“Mm, try me.”
“I will.”
Kazuya recognizes that determination. He smiles, nice and easy, not even knowing whether or not he’s telling the truth about taking that from Mei, just knows that he’d like to see him try, like to see him get worked up over it so he can watch. Probably not; lying’s always come easy to him. Not Mei, though. It’s the same determination he had shown when Kazuya had at first considered staying at the station, becoming a teacher or maybe an official and rising through the ranks.
You know we were meant for this, it said, and Kazuya couldn’t bring himself to disagree.
A pause stretches between them, both of them facing forward again. Kazuya can feel rather than see Mei’s eyes dart toward him, licking toward the corners. He can feel it on the side of his neck, the warmth that settles in his belly like a simmering, a stewing, between anticipation and knowledge.
“There’s something else I’ve wanted to do,” Mei says, “for the first time.”
His voice has quieted, slower and deeper than its usual chirp, like the way it did when he first got his voice change. But Kazuya’s known far longer than that how serious Mei can be, just like he’s probably known for longer than he would care to admit what’s going to happen next.
“Oh yeah? And what’s that?”
“Don’t talk,” Mei warns him, because Mei has to have the last word, and reaches forward to cup his cheek.
It’s almost laughably predictable, and so Mei, that he had saved it for this moment, the last day before their Release. Kazuya has to bite back a smile as their lips meet, soft as the petals he’s seen in the arboretum in their glass shells. He’s never touched a plant; maybe he will soon, and he can answer for himself whether it’s anything like this, like Mei’s fingers spidering on his cheek, soft and insistent at once. He has to bite back a noise in his throat when he feels a tongue pressing against his lips, opening his mouth instinctively in response, tangling himself in the gentle push and pull. He feels a shiver go through him at the wet sound it makes when Mei pulls back.
“Wow,” Kazuya says with a smirk. “I think you covered several firsts right there.”
“Shut up,” Mei says, holding the back of his hand to his blushing face. He’s a little breathless, and it occurs to Kazuya that however long he’s been waiting, Mei’s probably been waiting longer.
He turns forward again, realizing for the first time how new the territory they’re embarking on is, how fresh. “Well, there’s no need to rush. Plenty of time for that later, right?”
He can’t resist the urge to fling a smile over his shoulder, maybe more teasing than it needs to be. But since Kazuya is, in fact, the responsible one between them, he adds in a serious voice of his own,
“Remember, though, it’s not just fun and games out there. It’s really just us. No teachers or officials or anyone to help us out if we need it. We’re on our own.”
He hears Mei sigh as he drops his arm to his side. “Yeah, yeah, don’t be dramatic. We’ll have each other, right?”
“I’m not. We have to make it out there ourselves, Mei.”
He feels an arm settle around his shoulders, and can’t help twisting in surprise. Mei’s face is right next to his own, equal measures of petulance and hesitation cinching his mouth, a leftover flush still coloring his cheeks. From this angle, his hair is a halation bright and golden around his face, and it occurs to Kazuya that this is their send-off, their goodbye.
It’s all too easy to turn his head and open his mouth against Mei’s, barely a stretch between them. “We’ve always had ourselves,” Mei murmurs against him, and Kazuya’s left teetering on the edge of this, a last dance and a first.
FILL: Team Miyuki Kazuya/Narumiya Mei, G
1585 words, ao3
“Today’s the day,” Mei says with a smile, grabbing Kazuya’s hand and pulling him toward the edge of the universe.
Not that either of them had ever thought of it that way, not really. Not since the days when Kazuya questioned everything that came out of a teacher’s mouth, when Mei stomped his way to the head of the playground, all its synthetic steel and fiberglass encased delicately, delicately inside a cocoon, and always believed he would be chosen, that they would be chosen. There had never been any doubt about the they in Mei’s imagination.
They race past the plants in their membranes, different shapes and sizes like bubbles flowing their way up and slowly spooling their way apart. Plants that will never breathe real air, not the way that they will. Mei’s hand drifts apart from Kazuya’s, as if lamenting a lost gravity of its own.
“Watch where you’re going, Mei-chan,” one of the gardeners calls out. Mei giggles, burbles something back to her in his falsetto, the one Kazuya knows he uses with adults when he wants to get away with his round cheeks, his bluebell eyes, and doesn’t mean a word he says.
No one will tell them to watch out for anything ever again, when they’re free and out there, Released, the chosen ones. Kazuya’s not really as excited about it as Mei, if he’s honest, but he’d be lying if there wasn’t a part inside him that sharpened and unfolded at the call, metal plating that yearned to test its mettle against the wide black world of the Open.
“It’s funny that you’re the responsible one out of the two of you, Kazuya-kun,” the teachers always joked. Kazuya had to agree, biting his cheek; there was a certain irony to it, when he knew, despite his scores in everything, that he had the makings of a practical joker inside him.
“Come on! I wanna get one more look at it before we go,” Mei chatters excitedly, one corner of his uniform coming untucked. Kazuya’s eye flicks toward the patch of pale skin there, before rejoining the particular slope of Mei’s nose, the curve of his smile.
Kazuya quirks an eyebrow at him. “Why? We’ll be in it.”
“That’s exactly why! Beauty from a distance and all—ugh, did you even pay attention in literature class, Kazuya?”
“Did you?” Kazuya snorts, but he follows along anyway, because Mei’s in too good a mood to take any bait he dangles in front of him.
They navigate their way through the corridors, steel weaving a vaguely hexagonal web around them that they’ve traversed countless times since birth, and then together since they met in the training arena. Finally, the viewing deck is to the right, up a set of stairs that rattle beneath their running feet.
The Open lies beyond a window, wrapping around the entire deck so that all around them, all they can see is black with the little pinpoints of stars. It’s a short journey, the teachers tell them, a snooze and cruise in the pod and then they’ll be there. The new planet. The hope for the future generations, and them as two of its pioneers. It’s hard to feel awe at the magnitude of it all, hard to take it in, but Mei is talking, voice rapid-fire in his ear.
“I can’t wait to feel the ground beneath my feet. And grass—I think I’ll like grass, grass that’s everywhere, not just in the arboretums. We could run around, and play games on it, and—hey, Kazuya, we could even invent new games ourselves! Let’s do that.” Mei turns toward him, beaming. “What about you? What are you excited for?”
Kazuya thinks for a moment, eyes sliding toward the glass, the darkness beyond it. There’s all the sheer space to explore, of course, and the unknowns, and screened thinly behind them the why and how that he’ll reach forward and peel back with his own fingers.
But, “I’m excited,” he says after a moment, “to see the Sun.”
They’ve learned about the Sun, of course, with its entourage of planets, and now they’ll be able to see it from the ground. It’s always dark here on the station, of course, but secretly, peering at Mei from the side when he’s chewing a pencil in frustration or just talking, eyes aglow, Kazuya imagines it would look something like Mei, who shines brighter than the electricity that lights their surroundings anywhere inside the station. Mei could probably have an entourage, he thinks, but mostly he just hangs around Kazuya. Then again, Mei says the same about him sometimes.
“Me too,” Mei agrees, making a face. “I’m always cold.”
But your skin is warm, Kazuya doesn’t say, a tidbit of knowledge he gleaned one time when they were hiding in the art room long after they were supposed to go back to their chambers, pressed against each other behind the desk when one of the cleaners came.
“Can you imagine?” Mei asks, and now he’s looking at him, eyes so bright and piercing they look a little quizzical. “There’ll be so many firsts.”
Kazuya grins.
“Yeah, like the first time I step on solid ground before you.”
“Wha—! Shut up, don’t you dare! I’m gonna be the first, me!”
“Haha, sorry. You should’ve called dibs.”
“It’s not fair! That doesn’t count!”
“A law is a law is a law,” Kazuya teases, watches Mei turn red like Betelgeuse.
“I’ll fight you for it.”
“Mm, try me.”
“I will.”
Kazuya recognizes that determination. He smiles, nice and easy, not even knowing whether or not he’s telling the truth about taking that from Mei, just knows that he’d like to see him try, like to see him get worked up over it so he can watch. Probably not; lying’s always come easy to him. Not Mei, though. It’s the same determination he had shown when Kazuya had at first considered staying at the station, becoming a teacher or maybe an official and rising through the ranks.
You know we were meant for this, it said, and Kazuya couldn’t bring himself to disagree.
A pause stretches between them, both of them facing forward again. Kazuya can feel rather than see Mei’s eyes dart toward him, licking toward the corners. He can feel it on the side of his neck, the warmth that settles in his belly like a simmering, a stewing, between anticipation and knowledge.
“There’s something else I’ve wanted to do,” Mei says, “for the first time.”
His voice has quieted, slower and deeper than its usual chirp, like the way it did when he first got his voice change. But Kazuya’s known far longer than that how serious Mei can be, just like he’s probably known for longer than he would care to admit what’s going to happen next.
“Oh yeah? And what’s that?”
“Don’t talk,” Mei warns him, because Mei has to have the last word, and reaches forward to cup his cheek.
It’s almost laughably predictable, and so Mei, that he had saved it for this moment, the last day before their Release. Kazuya has to bite back a smile as their lips meet, soft as the petals he’s seen in the arboretum in their glass shells. He’s never touched a plant; maybe he will soon, and he can answer for himself whether it’s anything like this, like Mei’s fingers spidering on his cheek, soft and insistent at once. He has to bite back a noise in his throat when he feels a tongue pressing against his lips, opening his mouth instinctively in response, tangling himself in the gentle push and pull. He feels a shiver go through him at the wet sound it makes when Mei pulls back.
“Wow,” Kazuya says with a smirk. “I think you covered several firsts right there.”
“Shut up,” Mei says, holding the back of his hand to his blushing face. He’s a little breathless, and it occurs to Kazuya that however long he’s been waiting, Mei’s probably been waiting longer.
He turns forward again, realizing for the first time how new the territory they’re embarking on is, how fresh. “Well, there’s no need to rush. Plenty of time for that later, right?”
He can’t resist the urge to fling a smile over his shoulder, maybe more teasing than it needs to be. But since Kazuya is, in fact, the responsible one between them, he adds in a serious voice of his own,
“Remember, though, it’s not just fun and games out there. It’s really just us. No teachers or officials or anyone to help us out if we need it. We’re on our own.”
He hears Mei sigh as he drops his arm to his side. “Yeah, yeah, don’t be dramatic. We’ll have each other, right?”
“I’m not. We have to make it out there ourselves, Mei.”
He feels an arm settle around his shoulders, and can’t help twisting in surprise. Mei’s face is right next to his own, equal measures of petulance and hesitation cinching his mouth, a leftover flush still coloring his cheeks. From this angle, his hair is a halation bright and golden around his face, and it occurs to Kazuya that this is their send-off, their goodbye.
It’s all too easy to turn his head and open his mouth against Mei’s, barely a stretch between them. “We’ve always had ourselves,” Mei murmurs against him, and Kazuya’s left teetering on the edge of this, a last dance and a first.