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(the moon is bright…)
In the middle of the night, as Izumi draws his curtains close, he catches sight of a familiar silhouette hovering in front of his home. The dark blue jacket blends perfectly well with the dusky night; the wild oranges, a stark contrast against the dark. That idiot, he thinks sharply and immediately runs outside.
“You’re an idiot!” is what Izumi says as soon as he meets Leo. Not a great starter, as always. But when it comes to their stupid Ou-sama, he has never had the right words at the right time. “Do you have any idea what time it is?!”
It seems as if Izumi’s voice broke whatever wild fantasy was going inside Leo’s head because the boy yelps, surprised. “Sena?” He looks around, takes in where he is and mouths a fascinated oh. “Sena, it’s youuuuu! How did you get here?”
Izumi rolls his eyes. “You’re in front of my house,” he says, deadpan. “How did you get here?”
In the space of a blink, Leo is spreading his arms wide, face shifting for an expression of genuine warmth and absolute delight to replace the foreign curiosity it held. He beams, ignoring the question. He probably didn’t even hear it.
“It’s 10pm!” Izumi makes a point, ignoring the way his heart behaves so stupidly, so badly, each time he sees that smile. “Do you know how important sleep is for the skin? Some people stick to their schedules, Ou-sama. Oi—oi, are you listening?”
“You’re wearing fuzzy slippers.” Leo only points. “Wahaha!”
In a rush to meet Leo, he has forgotten to change his footwear. Sometimes, Izumi wonders if it’s possible to catch stupidity. Or carelessness. Or whatever way of life their Ou-sama seems to lead. He taps his a fuzzy-slipper-clad foot impatiently against the ground and crosses his arms. Then he remembers something more important. “Hey, did you tell your parents where you are?”
“Hm?”
“Call them right now, you big idiot! Haven't I drilled this in your head before? Be responsible, okay? This is basic stuff.” Izumi sighs, his breath a fogging-ghost. “Your family must be worried again!”
“Wahhhh! Wahhhhh!” Leo covers his ears, whining. “Sena is nagging me again. Are you my mom?”
“Thank the heavens I’m not,” Izumi huffs, a hand already on his hips as if lecturing a child. Because Leo is more childish than ten children all combined.
“Aw, your pajamas are cute, Sena!”
Izumi takes a long deep breath.
— ☽ —
(the moon is bright…)
They moved to a playground near Izumi’s house. It’s empty, illuminated only by the gleam of the moon and the light from the nearby lampposts. Leo sits on the swing and plays in it. Izumi follows, grumbling his complaints each step.
“The star-studded sky! The infinite universe! It’s spreading… it’s spreading above us, Sena!” Kicking his feet against the ground, Leo swings and soars towards the sky.
“That’s what happens when night comes,” Izumi says, “Obviously.” Then, he coughs. Mentally, he scolds himself. He should have worn a scarf, at least.
“What’s that sound?” Leo whips his head to look at him. “Did you cough, Sena? That’s bad. Let me lend you my jacket. Here—” he begins undressing, lifting the hem of his jacket, only for it to be caught in a tangled mess of clothes. His shirt crinkled, his blazer disheveled. “Oh—oh, what’s happening? I’m trapped in my own clothes!”
Izumi only shakes his head, used to this kind of antics. “You’re such a handful. You’re still wearing your blazer, see?” He raises an eyebrow, gesturing.
“You’re right!” Leo laughs and removes his blazer in a more fluid motion this time, thankfully. “You can wear this then. It’s cold~”
(the moon is bright…)
Leo’s blazer holds the warmth of a beating heart and it wraps around Izumi gently. “Thanks,” he replies, tone soft. And Leo is beaming again, proud and honorable and kingly. But not yet—Izumi thinks, not now. So he tries to mentally scold his heart once more.
“I was…” Leo starts, feet grazing against the ground restlessly, leaving dust on its wake. “I was writing a song... That was what I'm doing! The fountain of inspiration has flowed, unstoppable, flowing and flowing and wooosh, there I was, writing it. A masterpiece! Let me show you. Where did I put it…hmmm… it’s not here? It’s gone? Stolen?”
Izumi isn’t surprised. This is such a Leo-brand of antic—a kind of discord. The thing with Leo is, he is a wildfire, something you can’t tame. Thoughts and actions scattering in directions no one can predict. But Leo is also: the flicker of candle against the pitch-black dark, the first ray of light in the morning, the afterglow before twilight descends. Steady and unchanging in its unsurprising way but enthralling and special and irreplaceable in every way.
There’s something thick in the pockets of the blazer and Izumi fishes out a crumpled note, filled with ink stains, overflowing with notes in every space that it’s almost hard to imagine that it was once a blank of white. “This?”
“That!” Leo stops rummaging and patting himself, instead he dives in to grab the note from Izumi. “My masterpiece! Where did you find it? Did you rescue it from the aliens?”
“No, idiot, it was in your pocket. In here.”
“Oh! Did I put it there?” But Leo looks like he doesn’t really care all that much for an answer when he’s raising the paper against the moonlight, seeing something else in the chaos.
This, too, is an old thing. Something that has always made Izumi feel light and heavy and—and—and—it still scares him. He won’t admit it. That Leo can make worlds within worlds, that Leo can make something so beautiful, that Leo can make his heart ache in so many ways, for so many reasons.
Izumi won’t admit it easily so he looks up towards the moon, where it glows like a quiet kind of love.
“The moon looks so beautiful tonight,” Izumi breathes out—it slips out, actually. The weight of the words not registering in him until…
Leo’s full attention is on Izumi, surprised and then, something softer. “I love you too, Sena!”
“Idiot, I—I didn’t mean it like that,” Izumi replies. He feels his face getting hot despite the season’s cold breeze. “I mean, the moon. Literally. Not—not that. Not what you’re thinking!”
“Wahaha, the moon is beautiful and I love you too, Sena! It can be the same thing, you know?”
“I just said—”
“You’re always beautiful, Sena. Beautiful like the moon.” Leo smiles through his words.
“Haaaaa? What are you talking about, idiot?” Izumi tries to fight back the fluster but it sneaks in every word. “You’re more like the moon.”
This rouses another laugh from Leo, louder this time, rooted in something more nostalgic. “Mm, haven’t we talked about this before?”
They did, a long time ago. Before everything broke and splintered, before the melodies went and disappeared, before the duels and the empty thrones, before—that was such an odd, distant concept now. Remembering before without the heartaches.
But there was a time before all the pain and this makes Izumi smile too, so sudden and surprising, because Leo remembered. Leo who can’t remember where he is half the time, Leo who can’t remember to call his home, Leo who can’t even remember his name. And this, this makes everything—every pain, every heartache, every missing melody—pale in comparison. Like the moon, glowing with a quiet kind of love, drowning the dark around it.
— ☽ —
(“not at all! you’re always pretty no matter when~ just like the moon!”)
(“you’re the one who’s the moon”)
— ☽ —
“I was writing a song,” Leo says, finally going back to what he was talking about a minute ago—or hours ago. It’s hard to keep track of the time when Izumi is with Leo. “And before I knew it, I was in front of your place. Hahaha, isn’t it funny Sena? It was like magic! I was brought there by some kind of force.”
“A force, you say…”
“No, no wait. That’s not it. I was thinking about something while I was writing! An important thing!” And then, suddenly, recalling it, “Ah!” He laughs again, brightly. “I was thinking about you.”
“Oh.” Izumi feels the corner of the world slow down, the corner of his heart rapidly beating. “You should’ve called out to me then.” He adds shakily, “Since, well, you’re already here.”
“Is that…” Leo scratches his face sheepishly. “I wasn’t sure if it’s okay?”
And here they are again, tip-toeing around it. Walking on eggshells, unsure, careful.
But the moon is bright and the warmth of a heart is still wrapped around Izumi gently. They’re both here now, not stuck somewhere in the past. Maybe starting over again is like a song, sometimes you remember the melody, sometimes the beat or maybe just the words to it. But all these are parts of the same music. And maybe Izumi and Leo are missing the words right now, but it will come. Soon, it will.
Tonight, with the pawing touch of the moon on them, perhaps having the melody to it is enough for now.
They can start here.
“You’re soooo annoying! Of course, you can. It’s better than finding you frozen to death outside my house.” And with a voice soft like snow at midnight, he says, “Leo-kun.”
Leo smiles, then laughs loudly and Izumi shushes him because it’s late and the whole neighborhood is asleep.
(the moon looks so beautiful tonight)
(I love you)
(the moon is bright)
(but Leo has always been brighter than anything else)