Everbloom

Takumi sits in class after school, lingering in the growing silence of the room.

People come and go from the room, but it slowly clears. The once ambient chatter that filled the silence between conversations is gone, and what’s left is but one person.

Takumi Sora.

He looks around the room, seeing the emptiness he’s found himself in.

Looking down at his notes, Takumi surprises even himself.

He’d written things down. Not much, a few definitions here and there.

But it was something. And the something that is now is infinitely better than the nothing that was.

Who wrote these? I can’t remember if I did or not…

Takumi’s head begins to throb, a headache onsetting.

Looking back to the chalkboard, the recently erased drawings can still be made out.

I don’t have anything to do later tonight, right?

Takumi questions himself, wondering if he needed to be anywhere else.

As he reaches to check his phone, he spots the script for “Stellar” still in his bag.

I thought I was done with you. Why are you still here?

He takes the script out, re-reading a few of the lines.

The memory of cameras, the warmth of studio lights, and the attentive silence eagerly awaiting his performance.

He smirks to himself, satisfied about the performance he gave onscreen, and right there.

For a moment, he can hear the symphony of applause and acclaim. The attention of the faceless crowd never ceases to satisfy him.

Then he opens his eyes.

Silence bridges the gap from this moment to the next.

No cameras.

No applause.

No attention.

Just him. Alone with the cold indifference of an invisible crowd.

What’s the point in wasting my excellence here, to nobody?

He packs his bag up, standing up at his desk. He glances over at Yuna’s empty desk, dragging his hand across it.

You need to see me…no. You WILL see me. Not when, but how.

The door to the classroom slides open, which catches Takumi’s attention.

He looks up to find Yuna, returning with some boxes from the staff room.

Takumi’s eyes start directly into hers, her long black hair almost cutting this opportunity off entirely.

He stays in this position, stunned by her entering the classroom.

What’s she doing here?

Takumi looks a little closer, taking a hint at the boxes in her hands.

Takumi tries starting a conversation, opening his mouth to speak

But, for some reason, the words refuse to come out.

He stands there, in shock at himself.

What’s happening, why can’t I say anything?

Takumi clenches his fist, getting frustrated.

What’s this feeling? What’s making me do this?

Yuna carries on with her duty, paying no mind to Takumi.

Before he can get the words out, she leaves the class.

She saw me…right?If she did…

She should have something to say. They always say something. Everyone always says something.

She should be drawn to orbit me.

He remembers Yuna’s words, and the feeling they gave.

The words that made him repel attention, and close his mind.

You never had any right to say those words. You don’t know what it’s like to matter.

He rushes out the door,with a single thought in mind.

Why do you refuse to look?

In an instant, he catches up to her, grabbing her by the hand.

“How’s it going, Yamaguchi-san?” Takumi politely asks, out of breath.

“Fine. How are you?” Yuna replies cordially.

Takumi takes a moment to catch his breath, then begins the conversation.

“Not too bad, just tired after some hard work filming” Takumi half-heartedly opens with

“Is there something you need?” Yuna asks neutrally.

Takumi reaches into his pocket, pulling out two tickets to his own movie

“Would you want to go see it?” He asks, pulling closer to her.

“No, thank you.” She downright declines

And without elaboration, she leaves Takumi behind.

In the cold and isolating darkness of the school hallway, left with nothing but himself.

He combs his hair back with his hands, exaggerating his dark green eyes.

“You’ll open your eyes soon enough” he mutters to himself, then heads toward the exit.

Takumi walks down the street, somber clouds and raindrops coating the surroundings. Reflections of stoplights in puddles, the scent of wet concrete and rhythmic tapping of raindrops on his umbrella set the scene.

What a terrible day to forget a ride.

Takumi walks slowly, not basking in the scenery but not rushing home, something about the rain calming him.

Was it the focus the rain gave Takumi, making him use his umbrella? Or maybe the absence of light from the sun, allowing him the shine amongst the contrasting monochrome sky?

He stops at a busy street crosswalk, waiting for his turn to go. He looks past the sign to see a billboard.

“Witness the amazing remake of the original…Dahlia: Rebloom in theaters soon”

They’re remaking it? After all this time? But the original was perfec-

His thoughts are cut off after realizing whose face is on it. Who the main character is portrayed by, and who must live up to his greatness in the original.

His short, dirty blonde hair, and aquatic blue eyes pierce Takumi’s perception with ease.

It was his brother, Hikaru Sora.

His hand holding the umbrella twitches, causing his shoulder to get hit with rain.

Hikaru…he’s starring in the remake?

Takumi’s brain fills with conflicting feelings of pride, frustration, resentment, and appreciation.

The painful throb of a headache returns behind Takumi’s eyes once more.

I…

Takumi stays standing in the rain long after the signal to walk has passed.

He blankly stares at the billboard, his eyes reflecting Hikaru’s smile into a muted expression.

Takumi takes his phone from his pocket, and absent-mindedly types a text to Hikaru.

He snaps back into reality, looking at his phone screen and silently deleting the text to his brother, the last deleted words reading

“Congrats on your ro-”

That wasn’t him typing. Not the person he is today.

The light to walk illuminates, Takumi noticing and walking across the street.

Takumi walks for some time, not really paying any attention to his surroundings. Cars drive by, but one hits a puddle when it passes Takumi.

The lower part of his pants are now completely soaked, and he stops in his place for a moment.

He takes a deep breath, seething in anger.

He drops his umbrella in the rain, screaming out, “DON’T YOU KNOW WHO I AM?!? IF YOU DID, HOW COULD YOU BE SO CARELESS ABOUT IT?”

Nobody is around to quell his screams, no attention to fulfill his needs.

“HOW CAN ANY OF YOU BE SO IGNORANT TO THE TRUTH? OPEN YOUR EYES!”

He reaches for his umbrella, with it being blown away by oncoming traffic.

His anger boils over, like the universe can’t stand but dim someone as bright as he is.

I get it now.

Takumi stands in the rain, in silence.

The difficulty to live is determined by the light you project. Since I was given this light, I must protect it.

He looks across the street, and the place looks familiar, but so out of reach for him.

The corner store Yuna worked at, the inviting yellow fluorescent lights luring his attention.

Why does your world look brighter than mine? Here, I can’t help but hate the distance between us. As far as I am above you, yet neither of us can reach the other…

His eyes try to focus further, and he thinks he spots Yuna, working the cash.

A car flies by, breaking this illusion, as the only clerk working is a middle-aged man.

He turns back to the sidewalk ahead, making his way toward his home once more.

He enters a shop nearby, hoping to purchase an umbrella, but the only open shop is a floral boutique, like an untouched flower in bloom.

“Welcome! Do you need help finding anything?” the clerk asks, her face brightening up at the sight of a person.

“Do you have an umbrella? I seem to have lost mine” Takumi politely asks, putting the mask up once more.

“We do sell some, but they are a bit…visual” The clerk replies, a bit hesitant but points to a bin next to some flowers.

Takumi pulls out a flower-based umbrella, with the stem being the handle and the top being the petals.

Is this a joke? Whatever…as long as it does its job.

He hands the umbrella to the clerk, and she rings it up.

The clerk attempts to make small talk with, “You must have some bad luck, losing it on a day like today”

Takumi is spaced out, staring at beautifully red and white flowers, brimming with life.

Something about that…

“Oh, the Camellia…a truly amazing flower. You have great taste”
“Sorry for spacing out…what’s the total?”

Takumi pays with a card before letting her say the total, but his attention still lingers on the flower.

“That flower you’re looking at, it's called Camellia” the clerk states

“It’s it bloom today, probably because of the rain”

Does it bloom in the rain? Why?

“It blooms when the temperatures get low, usually in the winter”

“I like to think of it as a subtle flower, listening to no clock from anyone but itself. The flowers in the summer bloom vibrantly, like a competition for which can be seen the most”

The clerk walks over to a white camellia, picking it off the shelf and handing it to Takumi.

“...but Camellia determines when it blooms the most. It doesn’t compete like the others.”

She looks Takumi in the eyes, and finishes her sentence.

“It determines its own season”

For a moment…for a truly insignificant moment…Takumi’s view shifted.

The once insignificant scent of the flower that filled the room took over his senses.

The cars outside kept driving by, the rain continued to fall, and the world kept on turning.

…but Takumi remained still.

And he was okay with that.