3: Introducing Haru & Kami

“This body limits me.”

“So you can’t do cool tricks like move mountains or rewind time or something?”

“Well I can, but this body might give up on me if I put too much pressure on it.”

They’re sitting in Haru’s bedroom. After they left the beach, he went straight to work and Kami told him he’d be waiting in his room. And when Haru came back, he saw Kami on his bed, staring at the ceiling.

“Welcome,” Kami said to him when he entered the room. He had a wide smile on his face that Haru didn’t understand because it wasn’t like he brought anything from work to give him.

He showered, changed, asked if Kami was hungry—he wasn’t—and then settled on the bed. He allowed Kami to have his pillow while he sat at the foot of the bed.

“You never really told me why you’re here.”

“It’s not that interesting of a story, trust me.”

Haru still wanted to know regardless. He nudges Kami with his foot and Kami responds with a chuckle before clearing his throat.

He levels Haru with a careful gaze. “If I tell you that I came here just for you to draw me, would you believe me?”

Haru blinks. “W-why would I believe that?”

Kami laughs and sinks further into the bed. “But it’s true.”

“You’re God,” Haru presses, suddenly finding the smug look on Kami’s face annoying. “You could have gone anywhere at all.”

“Exactly,” Kami interjects, sitting up and leaning forward until his nose almost touches Haru’s. “It is precisely because I could be anywhere that I came here.”

“Something sounds off.”

Kami sighs, as though admitting defeat, but if there’s anything Haru has learned over the short period he spent with him is that he very rarely acknowledges defeat.

“Okay,” Kami declares after a pause. “I don’t know how else to make you believe me.”

“How do you want me to believe that a whole God is here just because he wants to be drawn by me?”

“Your drawings are beautiful.” The honesty and rawness in his voice hits Haru and feels like honey dripping down his skin. “And I love beautiful things. Therefore I want to be drawn by you.”

“How do you want to be drawn?” Haru’s voice shakes because now the tip of his nose is touching Kami’s cold one.

Kami’s grin is now almost predatory, and he seems to take pleasure in Haru’s hesitance.

“I’m not going to ask you to draw me naked, don’t worry.”

“Ah.” As if that made things better.

“Like I told you; I just want you to draw me. I want to have different lives through the things you draw.”

It sounds so easy when he says it, as if Haru had even been aware that that was how he drew, or how people saw his drawings.

Lucy told him that she made her feel like an angel whenever he drew her. That was how he saw her, and if that was what she thought then it meant she was an angel.

She laughed that day and told him he was corny. But he was really honest.

“I don’t know if you know but I can read you,” Kami continues. “And you have talent; you only tend to draw specific things, don’t you?”

Haru never saw it that way but it does make sense once he thinks about it.

“I want you to see in me whatever you see in those things and people that you draw.”

That tone again. It made Haru feel as though he was being revered. It should be the opposite, isn’t it? After all, he’s in the presence of God.

It brought out an unusual feeling the way Kami seemed to blurt out huge words like that without a second thought. And he would always keep eye contact, too. His face was something Haru still couldn’t put a finger to, and now more than ever, calling him pretty sounds extremely wrong.

“You say those things,” Haru points out, shifting away from the sudden closeness to properly gather his thoughts. “It’s almost as if you forgot what I said I wanted in return.”

“You wanted me to figure it out on my own,” Kami responds. “I suppose there’s a reason for doing that, and I’m not going to see it as anything other than a reasonable request.”

He speaks as if he knows why Haru even said that in the first place. Maybe he did, and maybe it is part of the reason why he’s even here aside from wanting to be drawn.

Haru apprehends the man one last time before deciding on what to do. “This might be a bad idea but I’m all in. I’ll draw you.”

And at that moment, Kami literally glows and his teeth look so white that they’re almost blinding. He looks—he looks like something Haru suddenly itches to recreate on paper.

Normally, he’d only have to look at someone once and have their face etched in his mind. But this time he has looked at Kami so many times in one day and he still can’t have his face stuck in his head enough.

He wants it stapled now.

He can’t let go of a face like that. The realisation hits him hard, almost physically knocking him out.

“Thank you.” There it is again; the reverie. Haru never had anybody treat him like that. It was almost as though Kami was the one in front of a god.

“I’ll let you have whatever it is that you truly want.”

For now, yes.

For later, he doesn’t know yet. All he knows now is that Kami smells like lavender and feels as soft as clouds. He knows that because at some point in time during the night, he clung to him as he slept and when he woke up, it was only the shirt of the man who said he was God that was left.

***

When Haru was 8, his grandfather’s diabetes gradually ascended to its final stage and there was nothing much to do at that point.

But Haru was 8, and he didn’t know what a terminal illness was. He only knew that his grandfather couldn’t go fishing like he used to anymore and would get scolded by his grandmother anytime he would attempt to touch a sharp object.

‘If you get hurt now, what’s left to do? Haru’s grandmother would scold him.’

‘God will take care of it,’ his grandfather would reply with a smile.

Ironically, he looked younger than she did and Haru’s father said that it was the stress of having to make sure his grandfather was properly taking care of his health.

And each time Haru visited them it was always like that; his grandfather would be doing something he wasn’t supposed to do while his grandmother would talk and talk until she couldn’t anymore, and then she’d call him selfish and leave.

His grandfather would then turn to him and say: I don’t know why she’s so worried.

‘Because she loves you?’ Little Haru would contribute.

His grandfather would laugh. ‘And I love her ten times more. But there are some fights that only God can ever win.’

‘So you think God will help you win?’

‘God is good. He wouldn’t let me down.’ Then he’d wink at little Haru and pull him closer to him as they watched whatever show was happening on the television.

A month later his grandfather died.

Haru was out of it because it simply made no sense. Everyone was crying, and at some point he began crying too.

It was raining when they buried him, and in the evening after the funeral, he sat down at the back with hot chocolate that his grandmother made for him.

‘God sucks,’ he said to his father the next night.

‘Life isn’t always fair,’ his father responded. He hooked an arm around Haru’s tiny neck and despite his feeble attempts to break free, he allowed himself to relax in the warm and big body of his father.

‘When I meet God one day, I’ll fight Him.’ He decided that as his father rocked him to sleep.

‘I’d like to see that happen,’ his father said amusingly. But little Haru was serious, his tiny fists balled up by sides.

That night in his dream, he saw his grandfather with his back to him, sitting on a deck with a fishing rod in hand and when he woke up, there was his grandfather’s favourite book placed on his nightstand.

The alchemist was the only book he’d ever seen him read on multiple occasions, every time he visited his grandparents, and according to his grandmother, his grandfather wanted him to have it.

‘Read it when you’re old enough to understand it,’ she said to him.

He did read it, and loved every part of it. It was the only book he read more than once. Each time, he remembered his grandfather.

Tall, with a slight arch to his back from spending hours crouching during his fishing sessions; long salt and pepper hair that he would put in a bun and his long fingers he’d use to run through Haru’s hair. His grandfather always smelled like tobacco, coffee and watermelon.

He drew him after reading the book for the second time. Every time he’d flip a page, he’d see glimpses of his grandfather, and whenever it would happen, he’d have his pencil and book by his side.

And then he dreamt about him again, and this time he could see his face clearly.

The next day, he completed his drawing of his grandfather and pasted it inside the book that he now carried with him.

‘It’s the possibility of having a dream come true that makes life interesting.’

That was what Haru clung to.

***

God is sitting on a bench outside of a café. A lot of people watch him as they walk by but he doesn’t seem to notice them.

He stares at nothing in particular, his gaze fixed on the glass of the little restaurant. He’s bent slightly forward, both hands cradling his cheeks with one leg crossed over the other.

Haru approaches him from the side, and as soon as he’s within his peripheral vision, Kami turns to look at him.

“You came!” He explains gleefully. Something jumps inside Haru. The sight of him smiling just because he came to a meeting they were supposed to have today reminds Haru of a child. If he started bouncing up and down on his feet, Haru wouldn’t be surprised.

“You’re supposed to know that,” Haru points out and Kami pouts.

“It wouldn’t be fun saying it.”

“I can imagine,” Haru chuckles. “Let’s go.”

The first place that Kami requested to visit was a café. He said he’d always wanted to try coffee and cake and Haru had never seen him eat before so he didn’t mind the idea if it meant that seeing Kami fill his stomach would in turn feed his curiosity.

The café has a small number of people. The place had neutral themes of white, brown and beige with wooden stools on one side where the glass windows were, and another set of white tables and chairs.

It has decorative hanging and potted green plants and the smell of coffee wraps the entire place and makes it feel warm.

Haru notices how comically wide Kami’s eyes get the moment he spots the cakes behind the display glass. He almost goes to put his face against it when Haru stops him.

“You can just order, you know?”

Kami turns to him. “Can I have everything?”

“Are you serious?” Haru asks. He can’t really take anything this guy says lightly. But then Kami winks at him and so he just shakes his head and moves them to a table.

“What do you usually have when you come here?” Kami asks.

Haru shrugs. “It depends. Most of the time I just get a strawberry cheesecake and an iced caramel latte.”

“I don’t know much about this but I can tell it’s basic.”

Haru kicks his shin from under the table.

Haru orders a strawberry cheesecake and an iced latte. Kami takes longer staring at the menu, but eventually goes for a molten chocolate cake.

“You’re not drinking anything?” Haru asks him.

Kami shrugs and leans back in his seat. “I’ll drink whatever you’re going to drink.”

Haru notices one thing about Kami; his eyes. They wander everywhere. He can see something or someone and stare at them longer than what would be considered as a simple stare, and when Haru would ask him if he saw something interesting, he’d say it was nothing.

They would also settle on his face and linger long enough for Haru to notice but he wouldn’t say anything.

“Won’t you ask why I’m looking at you like that?”

Haru would just shake his head. “I don’t think I want to know.”

“Boring,” Kami would huff before crossing his arms over his chest.

Their food comes and the waitress places the drink right in the middle. Once she leaves, Haru starts digging into his plate and almost moans at the taste. No matter how many times he’s eaten this, the first bite never gets old.

There’s a sliced strawberry sitting atop the slice of cheesecake, and he normally saves it for last before eating, but he thinks it might pair well with what Kami ordered.

“Do you like strawberries? You can have this—“

Haru had never picked up his pencil and sketchbook this fast.

One of the reasons that made him want to draw the people he drew at times was the light. The light that could come from the sun setting or a bright bulb or lamp; the way it would touch the person’s skin, brighten their complexion and just make them stand out from everyone else.

The light always complimented anyone it touched.

Haru is sitting here, hand grabbing his pencil in a tight grip and staring at Kami, not being able to take his eyes off of him.

He never knew it was possible for someone to reflect so much light.

All he did was start eating and his eyes that already carried so much brilliance were close to physically shooting out stars.

“You seem happy,” he splutters, suddenly finding it hard to talk.

Kami looks up at him from his place, eyes still so wide, to answer. “I am. This is really good.” And then he smiles.

And Haru doesn’t notice time anymore. He thinks everything around them has come to a standstill—not even thinking, because he can’t hear anything anymore—and he feels wrapped in something that makes Kami the only person he sees and has in his head right now.

He doesn’t talk again, doesn’t answer Kami’s question about whether he was going to draw him right now, or his squeak of panic upon realising that Haru is in fact about to draw him because he thinks he has to pose first.

Haru doesn’t draw whatever he is in front of him. Once the image is captured in his head, he draws whatever his brain provides with the information given to him.

The colours are picked on a whim, the background or lack of; the pose doesn’t matter—it’s all in the expression and what Haru feels is the right thing to sketch.

The first thing Haru draws is a set of eyes. His eyes are usually sharp and downturned with eyelashes that almost touch his eyelids and the colours of his irises that seem to change all the time. Today, they’re a light brown, almost as light as the coffee they have on their table and that sparkle in his eyes makes it look like sunlight reflecting on water. But in the drawing, they’re closed.

He draws his eyebrows all the way up his forehead that is covered by his hair. His nose is slightly widened due to the huge grin on his face and Haru shades the tip to give the illusion of a red flush.

The boy in the drawing holds a spoon filled with chocolate cake and on the plate in front of him, there is a big molten cake oozing out chocolate.

In this, Kami looks content.

By the time he’s done drawing, he expects Kami to be done eating, but the boy hasn’t touched his food and is rather looking at the paper in front of Haru.

Haru finishes shading and passes the drawing to Kami.

“What would you call it?” He asks him. He never asks any of the people he draws to comment on the drawings but for some reason, he feels the need to know what Kami thinks about it.

But Kami doesn’t say anything for a long time and just stares at the drawing. It’s making him want to bite his nails off from the anxiety.

It takes too long, and Haru is about to take the paper back when Kami looks up at him all of a sudden.

“Is that how you see me?” Kami breathes.

Haru attempts a shrug to mask the nervousness. “Right now yeah. You looked like the cake was a mountain of gold or something.”

The laugh he gives sounds like he’s out of breath. “Gold,” he says. “I look really happy.”

And then his eyes turn pleading. “Please let me keep it.”

Haru doesn’t mind. He was going to give it to him anyway. “Sure.”

“Are you okay with that?” Kami asks again, making Haru slightly frown.

“Why wouldn’t I be?”

And the question doesn’t sound odd to him for now. It’s only later when he slowly starts to get more engulfed into this thing that he will now starts to question his own decisions.

***

Kami can actually change time, weather and anything else imaginable. He just chooses not to.

Something about not wanting to change the course of life.

But aren’t you the one who made it? Haru asked him one evening when they were in his room.

It’s not as easy as you think, he told him.

He comes over every day, too. Haru would leave for work and come back to meet Kami sometimes perched at the window or on his bed.

Haru has learned to grow comfortable with the change, and he hasn’t told him but Kami always leaves a scent behind him that relaxes Haru more than he’d like to admit.

It was after they left the café that Haru saw something else that Kami could do.

There was a little child that wandered away from his parents because of a stray kitten he saw. He wasn’t paying attention to the road and neither was the car that was approaching.

Haru saw, and before he could react, there had been a truck carrying bags on sand, and one of the packs fell out and hit the concrete.

The car immediately stopped and so did the child, right in time for the mother to notice him gone.

Haru was transfixed because everything happened so quickly, and when he turned to look at Kami, the guy had a smile on his face.

‘How did you do that?’

Kami shrugged. ‘We call that lucky accidents.’

Since then, his actions were subtle but Haru would always notice, and each passing day, Kami would fill his mind more and more.

He wouldn’t be able to pinpoint the exact moment it happened if he even tried.

All he knew was that he would go to work and rush to get back home so that he could catch up with Kami before going to bed.

Kami also knew whenever he had nightmares or was about to have one.

He would convince Haru to let him play with his hair and at first, he always said that it was because watching him sleep was boring and that he needed something to do, but Haru eventually caught up on it and pressed him to admit it.

‘It’s either that or I flick the nightmare away.’

‘How would you do that?’

‘By flicking your forehead,’ Kami would answer matter-of-factly.

He was also strong.

Haru watched him break a glass bottle in half in frustration because he didn’t know how to uncap it and was also too impatient to wait for Haru to bring an opener.

‘It slipped,’ he lamely said as an excuse.

After that, Haru tried as much as possible to get him away from anything that could potentially cause massive destruction.

Because that was another thing about this guy who said he was God.

He was chaotic. Beautifully chaotic.

It would be him standing amidst the world on fire. The same hands that would soothe him and get rid of his nightmares were the same ones that could easily destroy anything he wanted.

He never showed that side of him in front of Haru, but they were times when it almost slipped, when his composure was almost lost and Haru vaguely wondered whether it was because he was in this body. He wondered if it was the fact that he was human right now that made him have all those fleeting emotions.

He also wondered if there were other emotions that he could feel as well.

´So you left her?´

Something like that. But at the end of the day it was mutual.

The day Kami asked Haru about his last relationship and why it had ended, they were sitting under a huge tree in a park.

It had gotten too hot suddenly and they were tired from walking so much so they found—conveniently—a tree that had enough branches and leaves to shade them completely to sit under.

Kami liked comfort, and he’d told that to Haru anytime he would do something and Haru would slightly freak out about it.

Kami found Haru’s body to be comfortable, and so more often than not, he would initiate as much physical contact as he preferred, and at first it destabilised Haru because he wasn’t used to it and also because Kami’s body seemed so different from anyone he’d ever touched, but he eventually got used to it.

Kami was lying on the grass with his head on Haru’s lap. His hair felt like clouds on his legs.

‘When you say mutual do you mean that you both agreed to end things or she had to agree because you weren’t going to change your mind?’

Haru sighed. That was what it was, wasn’t it? But it made him feel like a bastard to admit it.

‘You don’t really have to ask if you already know,’ he dryly responded.

Kami then shifted to look up at him. That day, his eyes were a cerulean blue and it complimented the green of the leaves and brown of the bark of the tree.

Before he could stop himself, Haru drew him again that day.

He presented it to him after he finished.

Kami took his time again to examine the drawing before talking.

‘Why did you draw me alone?’ He questioned, looking at the figure lying down on the grass beneath the tree. He had his eyes closed, with one arm covering them and the other placed flat on his stomach.

In the drawing, it appeared as if the tree was looking down at him, watching him sleep. Everything else that he added as well; forest animals and even the sun—they all stopped just to watch the boy who was asleep in the middle of the forest.

‘You aren’t alone,’ Haru explains.

‘Then where are you?’

Haru points at a spot on the paper. ‘I’m watching you, but I’m too shy to show myself so I’m hiding and looking at you from afar. This is what I see when I watch you.’

Kami asked him again if he could keep the drawing, and Haru said that yes, he could. Once again he didn’t know why he felt the need to ask; after all Haru didn’t think he would need the drawings.

He never kept the ones he drew of people. This was no different.

One evening when they were in his room, Haru turned to ask Kami a question.

‘Why did I end things with her?’

Kami had his eyes closed but opened them slowly to look at him. He then placed a hand on his cheek, stroking it, and Haru almost shuddered from the touch; it felt like ice.

‘You know what’s worse than losing passion for something? For humans, losing passion for something because of somebody else hurts more than a stab to the heart.’

Haru went to sleep that night with his heart thundering violently against his chest.

***

‘Any particular reason for wanting to fight God?’

‘I wasn’t a particularly good fighter but I believed I could throw a mean hook. It’d have been fun testing it on God, don’t you think so?’

Kami’s laughter sounded like bells and Haru heard it a lot because Kami seemed to find everything he said funny.

‘That was an interesting aspiration.’

‘Not everything has to have some big meaning in this life. Sometimes you want to save the world and other times you want to fight God.’

That was all Haru gave as an answer, but he could tell that Kami knew more than he let on. Haru expected that—he was God after all—but he didn’t say anything as long as Kami also said nothing.

***

Mid-April, Haru decides to take Kami ice-skating. They’ve been going out a lot lately.

His boss reacted to that by corking an eyebrow and eying him with a smug look. ‘You’ve gotten a girlfriend, haven’t you?’ He asked him and when Haru would dismiss him, he’d nudge him with his elbow and disturb him until Haru would threaten to close an hour early.

His father just winked at him when his mother brought up the fact that he had been spending a lot of time outside.

‘And his room is so much cleaner than usual. It smells incredibly nice, too.’

‘Just remember to be wise, my son. You wouldn’t want children at this age.’

Haru had to hide the furious blush that crept up his neck to his face while trying to reassure his mother by patting the top of her head. His father found it funny that his son was potentially seeing someone and very much likely to be having sex.

Haru didn’t disclose any information to any of the curious parties.

Kami wasn’t always in his room. There were days when he would only come at night, and when Haru wouldn’t be going to work, he’d take a walk outside to distract himself. From the fact that Kami wasn’t there, yes, he could admit that much.

It was on one of his morning walks that he passed by a Sakura tree and saw the flowers. He sat down underneath the tree and drew Kami sitting on the branch of the tree picking each petal and turning them into snowflakes.

Winter was a long stretch away; he didn’t know why but he wanted to know what Kami would look like under the snow. It was then that he decided on what to do.

Kami appeared at his window that evening when he came home from work.

You have something to tell me? Kami asked as soon as he saw him, a wide smile on his face.

Haru chuckled. ‘If you already know then—‘

‘Please tell me,’ he whined, twisting his body in a way that made Haru flinch a little, thinking he might fall.

‘Would you like to go ice-skating tomorrow?’

Kami’s eyes widened and his smile stretched. How someone could hold so many emotions was something that always fascinated Haru.

They go in the afternoon during a day where it’s less crowded. Haru has come to prefer being around as few people as he can whenever he and Kami go outside. Something about being able to fine-tune his surroundings and focus on just him without much hassle.

It’s colder inside; when they got in Kami immediately wrapped his arms around his frame and Haru clicked his tongue. He had told him to wear something warmer but Kami said he wasn’t going to need it. He indeed needed it if the sheepish look he gave Haru was anything to go by. He eventually handed his jacket to him.

“You won’t skate, too?” Kami asks.

Haru shakes his head. “I can’t move in those things.”

“And you think I can?” Kami questions again with an amused look. He was sitting on a stool and putting on the figure skates. They’re white just like the long-sleeved shirt he’s wearing, contrasting against the black jacket that he gave him.

“Is there anything you can’t do?”

“There is,” Kami answers quickly just as he stands on his feet. “I think you’ll find out soon.”

Haru is watching from the stands as Kami gets to the rink. There are about three or four people there, too, but they oddly seem to fade out the moment Kami gets there. The moment he starts to slide on the ice, Haru knows that it wasn’t his skills that Kami was referring to when he said he wasn’t good at everything.

He’s sliding on the ice with ease, manoeuvring his body to accommodate each move he makes. He rarely slips or fumbles on his feet; his flexibility and comfort on the ice show as well from the way his face is relaxed. The jacket that Haru gave is placed onto his shoulders, and it hasn’t slipped from them ever since he started skating.

People have started staring, too, and Haru doesn’t blame one. Someone comes to stand next to him to ask if Kami is a professional skater.

“He’s just good at it,” Haru replies.

“He looks beautiful,” someone else gushes. “It looks like he’s flying.”

Haru can see it as well. There is not a single stiff move in his routine, and each time he hits the ice with the skates, it makes almost no sound, as if he barely touches it. There’s music distantly playing through speakers in the room, and it seems to play according to the way Kami moves. Haru understands that, too; it’s all about fine-tuning to find the right atmosphere to allow Kami to be in his element.

By now, every single person in the room has stopped to look at him.

Haru finds a spot to sit and moves there, taking out his pencil and book. He looks at Kami one last time and it’s at that moment that Kami looks at him, too. After that, he doesn’t lift his head from the book until he has completed the drawing he wanted to do. When he’s done, he stands up to go back to the stand where even more people are gathering.

“I’d like to get to talk to him when he’s done,” he hears a girl say to one of her friends.

“Do you think he’ll pay attention to us?”

It hadn’t been more than 30 minutes since Kami was skating, but now he looks done. He moves to where Haru is standing and when he reaches him, all Haru can hear is his exaggerated breathing.

“Looks like you’ve hit your limit,” Haru comments.

“I didn’t know these shoes would hurt like this,” Kami replies with a wince, leaning against the railing and dropping his head. Then he suddenly looks up. “Let me see the drawing.”

“Let’s sit first.”

They go back to the fitting rooms and Haru waits for Kami to sit. Once he does, he moves in front of me and squats. Without waiting for Kami to say anything, he takes one of his legs and straightens it on his thigh.

He wraps one hand around Kami’s ankle and, taking his silence as cue to keep going, he takes off the skate. Kami emits a sigh of relief that rings throughout Haru’s entire body. He wears socks before putting on the skates and Haru leaves them. He then grabs Kami’s foot and starts pressing, applying pressure from the top to his heel and cracking each toe one at a time.

“You’re a lifesaver,” Kami groans when Haru presses a particular spot. “Thank you.”

“Hm.”

Haru does the same to his other foot and the two of them stay like that in silence until Haru is done with Kami’s feet still on his lap. He then hands over the drawing he made to Kami.

“It kept you busy,” Kami comments as he looks at it.

“Well I couldn’t really focus on two things at once. I’m not God.” He lets silence fall as he watches Kami look at the drawing. Occasionally, he would press the sole of his feet and move around until he gets a reaction, usually in the form of a wince or jolt from him. He doesn’t know how long time passes but eventually, Kami sets the drawing down.

“Before you ask, yes, I don’t mind you keeping it.”

“Okay,” Kami replies. “Do you think they’ll let us take the skates?”

Haru frowns at the question. “I’m not sure; unless you buy some. But why do you need them?”

All Kami gives him is a shrug.

When they leave, they leave with a pair of skates. No, they couldn’t let them borrow them but it would be a different story if they wanted to buy them. So they did—or Kami did, to Haru’s hidden relief because he had never seen him buy anything before and he didn’t want to go through the embarrassing phase of having to turn him down because he couldn’t afford to pay for what Kami wanted.

It’s well past afternoon, the sun sitting at a certain point up there that makes it look as though golden paint had spilled from the sky, and they were walking, but not in the direction of Haru’s house.

Kami deserved food, Haru decided, and Kami did not oppose it. He wanted to try another dessert so they would walk until they found a café and then get food.

Whenever they pass and find a Sakura tree, Kami would bend down and pick up the pink leaves and then he would throw them up and watch as they would fall. He did that enough times to be getting looks from passers-by, but most of the looks were fond ones. Haru understands; it’s hard to get mad at beautiful things.

That was what one of the girls in the skating rink called him. Beautiful was more profound than pretty. He glances at Kami who is now counting his steps on the sidewalk, his side directly adjacent to a small lake and thinks that yes, beautiful suits him now.

“The lake looks pretty around this time,” Haru comments and Kami looks up at him inquisitively. He then points at the water and Kami follows his direction.

“Let’s go,” Kami says and stops walking.

“Where?”

“The lake,” Kami responds as though the answer should have been obvious.

“I thought you wanted to eat?”

Kami frowns. “How does that stop us from going to the lake?”

Arguing is pointless. He will still follow him anyway. So he lets Kami lead the way as they head to the lake.

The grass is trimmed and slightly wet as they walk across it. The place is completely deserted and except for the few birds chirping, they don’t see any other person aside from them. The water looks clear and sparkles from afar, the light reflecting on it looks like a pool of diamonds scattered across the water.

Haru expects them to sit and watch the lake for a bit before going back. Maybe his feet hurt more than he let on and needed to rest a bit. But as he sits, he notices that Kami has no intention of following his cue.

Instead, he walks all the way to the bank and squats right in front of the water. Haru watches him dip a finger in, then another one, and another one until he has his entire hand inside the water.

“You want to swim?” Haru asks him, thinking that that is what he has in mind.

Kami turns to him with a pensive look on his face, lips in a pout and eyes wide. “No,” he answers him.

“Okay.”

“But there’s something I want.”

Kami’s voice is so small and muffled that it takes a moment for Haru to clearly understand what he said. He sees he is no longer looking at the lake but looking at him now.

“What do you want?”

“I want you to watch me.”

Haru never knew he had to ask him before he’d do it. Haru leans back and puts his weight on his palm, and then keeps his eyes fixed on Kami. “You have my attention.”

Seemingly satisfied with Haru’s response, Kami gives him a small smile before picking up the skates he had been carrying. He sits on the grass and puts them on without saying a word, and neither does Haru. They’re both silent and focused on different things, but at the same time it feels as though they’re communicating.

No, I’m not crazy. I know what I’m doing; just watch.

Okay, I’m watching.

Kami asked only to be watched, so Haru stays put as he watches him get on his feet. It’s not an easy feat when trying to walk on blades, but Kami seems to have little issue doing it. It almost looks like he’s walking on the tips of his toes.

He had a bun to be able to skate without having hair in his face, and now he takes off the hair band and wears it on his wrist. His hair falls slowly—almost in a dramatic effect—on his shoulders and he runs a hand through it, tucking it behind his ears.

The only moment during which he acknowledges Haru is when he takes off the black jacket that was draped over his shoulders. He stretches out his arm to him and Haru reaches for it. Their fingers touch and Haru notices how cold Kami’s skin is.

Haru is about to move back when Kami wraps his hand around his wrist.

“You don’t have to draw this one,” he tells him and Haru almost wants to ask why because in this light, Kami’s eyes are an emerald green and he hasn’t seen anything this beautiful in anyone for how long. They’re holding him fixed, he wouldn’t be able to move if he even tried, and now that he doesn’t want to, it’ll take a lot to make him leave.

Kami seems to notice. “I can’t take you with me so you’ll have to let go of my hand.” It almost sounds like he wants to laugh.

Haru looks down and sees that he’s now the one gripping Kami’s hand. He looks at it and then back at Kami’s face. “Where are you going?”

“You sound like you can follow me,” Kami says teasingly, and then in a taunting way he says: “Unless you want to.”

“Yes,” Haru answers quickly. “I’ll follow you.”

Kami shakes his head and Haru notices the way his face becomes a bit red. “Just watch me, okay?”

Just watch. Haru thinks he can do that. “Okay.”

“Good,” Kami almost coos and Haru almost whimpers. “Just sit down, yeah?”

Haru sits where he can see Kami better. He stands unmoving for a very long time with his head bent, and Haru can see the way his back moves up and down and how his breathing steadies and slows, before he straightens up, tilting his head back in the process. He really looks like a figure skater about to perform a choreography, but with no ice, Haru wonders how he’ll do it.

Suddenly, Kami turns to look at him. “Your mind is such a pretty place,” he spoke bemusedly. “But it’s okay to throw logic away sometimes. Especially when you’re with me.”

Haru doesn’t get to ask what he meant, or grasp the fact that Kami might have heard his thoughts, before Kami moves one leg into the water. Or on the water, because Haru doesn’t hear a splash or a drop that you’d normally hear when making contact with water; instead what he hears sounds like a clack, or a crack—like ice.

And at this point he almost feels stupid for even considering doubting. Kami was the same person who parted water for him to walk on dry sand at the beach; the same person who went from being completely wet to dry in an instant and yet—and yet imagining that he could turn the lake into ice to skate on seemed absurd to him.

His mind wasn’t a pretty place; it was bland and disappointing.

The lake doesn’t immediately get covered by a sheet of ice; it happens gradually, wherever Kami makes direct contact with the water. Over here, away from prying eyes, he looks like a bird flying. That sense of freedom the open seems to give as the birds cut through the clouds with their wings; that’s what Kami looks like right now.

His frame moves as if he has no bones in his body; when he bends forward, one leg on the ice and the other stretched backwards in a T-shape as he spins before repositioning himself again, he doesn’t look human.

When he jumps and lands safely on his feet, his hair gets thrown back and away from his face, and the sharpness of his jawline gets accentuated. The lines on his neck are more pronounced and the flush on his face contrasts with the glow of his skin and makes it look as smooth as glass.

His limbs move as though he’s swimming; they appear weightless as if being carried by the wind and his face looks just as relaxed, as if being supported by something that Haru can’t see.

This body limits him, Haru agrees, remembering Kami’s statement back when they first met. Haru looks at him moving, dancing, and all he can imagine is how godly he would be in his true form, whatever that could be.

He’d possibly have wings that could cut a whole city in half and a brightness that wouldn’t be dulled by this human body. He would be brighter than anything Haru would have ever seen and he doesn’t know what he would do if he were to be facing that presence. But he would want to see it; he would give anything to see it.

Beauty was a term he used to play with for a long time. He associated it to things that made him happy and now he understands that he had been wrong.

Those things that made him happy were things he could see and understand easily. They brought a sense of familiarity he could remember and relate with other things. That was what beauty was for him.

But now as he’s staring at Kami, he doesn’t understand what he is seeing. It almost terrifies him and yet he can’t seem to think of any other word than beauty.

Perfection and complexity; rough lines complimenting smooth ones and normalcy containing greatness.

He can’t believe he’s the only one that gets to see this right now.

Almost on cue, he hears movement coming from some tree nearby and he can’t make out the form but he assumes it’s an animal. He understands; humans are the only living beings that like to overthink everything.

Humans very rarely want to see God or the universe as they come. They must have an answer to everything.

But right now, whatever Haru feels when he sees Kami, he doesn’t understand any of it. But he doesn’t try to, at least not now.

He doesn’t try to understand or make sense of that deep gnawing desire to just reach out to Kami and hold him, just bask in that light he’s emitting. He doesn’t try to understand why his heart is beating so fast, or why his hands can’t stop shaking; or even why he is sure that no matter how much time passes and wears away, he will never forget this. Nothing could ever make him forget this.

It seems as though Kami is calling out to him. He’s stretching a hand towards him but Haru seems to be frozen on the spot. When he finally manages to stand, he does it on shaky legs and approaches the ice warily.

“Take a hold of my hand,” Kami whispers to him. His breath is cold as it touches Haru’s face.

Haru does, with his eyes closed. He lets himself be guided by Kami and when he steps on the ice, he counts to 10 in his head before opening his eyes.

“Do you trust me?” Kami asks him simply.

Haru looks down at where his feet are shaking on ice that used to be a lake not even hours ago, and then at his hands that are tightly holding Kami’s, before looking up at Kami, his green eyes looking like emeralds.

“I do.”

So Kami goes with him. It’s harder for him since he doesn’t have skating shoes, but Kami is kind to him and doesn’t slide fast. He just takes big steps and Haru moves between the gaps. They don’t go far, just a few feet away from the bank, but the lake doesn’t look like the lake anymore, and the trees around them don’t feel like trees anymore. Nothing looks like what it was before.

“Look at you,” Kami comments with pride in his voice.

“You look so good.”

“It’s you. You’re making everything look beautiful.”

“Hmm, Am I?”

Now it looks like they’re dancing. Kami moves a hand to Haru’s waist and sways them from side to side. Haru doesn’t seem to mind, he almost hears music in his head. Kami spins them three times and on the third one, he slightly lets go of Haru’s hand and waist and before Haru could notice, he’s back on the grass.

“I want to skate a bit more before we go,” Kami tells him. “The sun is almost gone now.”

Haru could sit and watch him do this for hours. But he only nods and promises to still get him the cake he wants before they go home.

Once they leave, it’s evening and by the time they get to a café to get food, and then get home, Haru is so tired that he forgoes a shower and falls on his bed immediately.

“I didn’t even do anything and I’m already tired,” he grumbles into his pillow.

“It’s fine,” Kami says. “We walked a lot.”

“But how come you’re not tired?”

Kami points to the plastic container in his hand that carries the strawberry shortcake he’s eating. “Sugar.”

Haru had in mind to talk more before the next day, but the tiredness hit him so suddenly that his eyelids became heavy minutes after settling into bed. Kami moved on the bed after eating and sat up with his back against the headboard. Haru could blame it on the sleep, but Kami smelled really nice and felt soft so it only made sense for him to want to dig his face into his stomach.

“You’re soft,” he babbles even though Kami said nothing and only laughed.

He falls asleep with Kami’s hand in his hair and his smell literally soothing the ache in his bones. He doesn’t get nightmares, but the last dream he had made him wake up with a hollow feeling in his chest. He doesn’t tell Kami about it and just chugs it to the back of his mind and assumes that it was the fatigue.

That’s what he made himself believe until the idea became almost idiotic at some point.