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The object of his gaze, trained on one singular person.
His eyes followed another’s movements, every arm swung in the air, every inch, each echoing tap that resounded from the stage.
All of it was done in perfection.
Each step, each tap, all of it was according to his expectations, his directions.
How lucky he is, to have someone like him at his disposal. As his lead actor.
Like bright rays of sunlight— he passed through clouds, space, and stars. He hit the ground below, and painted it in his colors.
He flew and breezed through each and every obstacle, like a shooting star.
He was amazed, no, more than it.
He found himself mesmerized, how it was all so perfect. How bright he shone in his eyes.
He found himself—
Entranced, enraptured, enthralled,
Captivated.
He could add a dozen more words if he needed to, but not now. He needs to redirect his full attention to the star in front, after all. (As if he wasn't already doing so now.)
Soon, the shooting star hits its finale. As the star does so, sparkles run all throughout and lingered underneath his feet.
A bow, and then the curtains fell at last.
“How was that, Rui?”
Dashing, stunning, show-stopping—
He wished to say, but not yet—not now. He wanted to free the heart that was so desperately asking to be let out, to escape, to be said, to be heard.
But no, not yet.
“It was spectacular, you've truly outdone yourself today. I can sense your footwork has greatly improved since last time, Tsukasa-kun.”
It wasn't nearly enough, it was never enough, it could never be enough to quell his deepest desires, hidden in the sea of his shallow heart.
Alas, “I'm glad you think so, Rui!”
What's a sea without a sparkling treasure underneath its ruins? What's a sky without a sun, or without a moon?
What remains?
The pair sat down, his hand dusting the bench for both of them. He looked up at the horizon. Ah, it was sunset, wasn't it? He recalls Emu having mentioned why she hated sunsets, and how they dipped the curtains to a world’s end of smiles.
He would agree, on normal circumstances.
But how was he able to hate, or even dislike the sunset, when it so glaringly reminded him of the star right next to him?
His hair, his eyes, it was so eerily similar to sunsets at times.
Even when the world would soon go black, covered by imaginary curtains,
It would be okay.
After all,
His hair, gracefully swaying to the music that was the wind.
His eyes, crinkled towards the edges.
His lips, upturned. In a grin he could spot from miles away.
Even then, he still has him.
He would be okay.
“Rui,” the boy next to him called. He could always imagine music notes flowing through his mind whenever the other utters his name.
He hummed, beckoning him to continue.
“I've always wondered,” he stood up, his back turned towards him, “Do I…always manage to meet your expectations?”
He tilted his head, confused. “Why, of course. Every time.”
Tsukasa is like a stage—no, he's the lead actor, the star of the show itself. He breathes life into the show, to the point the show becomes a whole world. The world that Rui can imagine, the world he creates; only Tsukasa is capable of it.
He’s always had, and will keep reminding Tsukasa that he always meets his expectations, that he always—
…
Then, his eyes widened.
There was something in how he said it, in how he asked.
It could be just his imagination, but it was clear.
There was something. Something greedy. Asking for more.
It was unknown to him, what he could want.
What more could he desire from him.
The other shook his head, letting out a huff. “Let me rephrase that. Do I always manage to surpass your expectations?”
…!
Ah, so that's how it is.
In the sunset, where orange and red hues meet at the center, he could distantly image each time Tsukasa had managed to amaze him beyond his wildest dreams. From the role of Torpe the Pianist, to his role of Miles.
But he knows, oh, he knows, that isn't, and never will be, everything.
Tsukasa had broken his meter, broken what was initially unbreakable.
His expectations.
There were so many things, so many words he could say at this very moment. His mind, his heart brimming with things he wanted to say, but it all boils down to one, singular, thing.
But even so, it wouldn't be enough.
But then again, what would be enough?
It's odd, how most of the time, he never seems to be able to answer his own questions.
“...Of course. Every, single, time. You have never failed to amaze me in every single aspect. Your acting stills are unmatched—in every single way.”
He stood up, from where Tsukasa's back was still facing his direction.
He inched closer, slowly, but surely, closing the distance. But he stops— because he can't get too close. Or else, his shine will be too much to handle for him.
The wind blew, the breeze flowing through his hair. Trees rustle in quiet solemnity, in solitude. He used to be just like the trees—lonely, a knack for watching from afar.
But ah, he isn't alone now, isn't he? He has Wonderlands×Showtime, he has him.
“To me, you've always shone bright.” He whispered, albeit breathlessly, “Might I add, brighter than the eighty-eight constellations in the sky.” He continued.
…
He froze for a split second.
Was that… A little too much?
He made that sound more breathless than he initially intended.
But even so, he doesn't seem to mind all that much.
He feels…
Light, or atleast, lighter than he usually does. Like a portion of what he's been holding inside a jar has been opened up, and sent flying towards the orange sky.
He was about to open his mouth, before a chuckle, no, a full belly laughter was heard. Instead, he promptly let a bashful giggle escape his throat, in place of whatever he was going to say.
The sound…it was like a rainbow after rain. This laugh…It wasn't full of pride, like how it usually was. It was softer, breathier, and something else he couldn't quite place. It was so…
Carefree.
As if it were the wind, breezing through the vastness of the horizon.
“Of course, of course! Of course I've managed to surpass your every expectation!” The blonde spoke in his usual boisterous bravado, albeit softer.
He turns around, and everything feels as if it's playing in slow motion.
“Because…”
A dazzling smile, against his own two eyes—where gold meets amber. From which he swore he could see shooting stars raining down from the sunset that lies within it.
“I'm your star, after all.”
His smile, glistening in the remaining rays of sunlight, pouring down in rainfalls and sunbeams. Rui finds himself unable to look away.
Rui placed his palm to the right side of his chest, where he could feel his blazing heart beat.
The other boy inches closer to him. Ah, why is it that his cheeks tingle when he gets closer, when the narrowing distance between them becomes too much for his heart to handle?
He's fully aware of the answer, but he won't dwell on it.
He won't dwell on it, even when Tsukasa's hand clasps around his own. Even when he feels warm. Even when everything did.
His hand, has it always felt like this? Warm, so warm, the warmth spreading from the expanse of his palm to his fingertips. Electricity, or what seemed like it, sent his fingers to go momentarily limp, as if it was electrocuted.
Sparks of electricity coursed through his veins, hand, wrist, arm, and all the way to his chest. The electric current rippled, causing the heart within his ribcage to beat even faster, if that was even possible.
After a moment of idle silence, and Rui trying to maintain his rapidly diminishing composure, one of them finally speaks up.
“Rui, do you see that stage?” The blonde starts, pointing at Wonderstage, where it grows decreasingly less illuminated as the time goes on. But even so, you could still see it from a mile away. “I wish for you and me, along with the others, to be in it.” He continued, but it didn't seem like he was finished just yet.
“Furthermore, I want to continue shining as your star, and you,” he raises his index finger and points it at the other's chest, from which he swore was beating loudly in its thresholds, “continue being my director, as long as time lets us.”
Oh.
The words hang in the air, like picture frames being hung on walls, to be displayed, to be shown.
He feels breathless, like air had caught in his throat, somehow. He continues staring, and staring, deciphering each and every word that escaped from his mouth, decoding them, to see what they could entail.
In the end, he gets nothing.
Because his true feelings were already laid bare, only for him to see.
He feels the other’s breath tickle his skin. Ah, he doesn't recall the other being this close.
Each tick of the clock caused their distance to shorten by an inch, that would soon inevitably cause the space between them to be narrowed down from what used to be a meter, to now a mere centimeter.
Unspoken feelings continue to hang like ornaments in the air, showcased and presented for the world to see. For them to feel.
It could be a meter, an inch, or a centimeter. But today, it wouldn't matter. Because now, they were going to close that distance.