fight or flight

5. When We Bloom

In a world of monsters and hate, of death and despair, of the dark and the hidden, the toughest fight I faced was myself.

*

"If it wasn't for the laws of the land, the sons of bitches I'm teaching would be dead."

"Hi, nice to see you too Tadashi," Kei remarked.

It was like this almost every time they had lunch together. Most of the time, someone from their expansive  friend group would tag along (usually Ennoshita, pushing them together oh so slowly) but this time they were alone. Kei was terrified.

"What do you want to eat?" Kei said.

"Imma take a nap instead," Yamaguchi said, seconds before it was lights out for him.

"Sounds delicious," Kei replied, monotone.

After 10 minutes or so, Kei also wanted to take a nap. His story is coming along, but he needed his inspiration to be awake to write. So Kei crossed his arms onto the wooden table and sat his head in the small gap between his intercrossed arms and his chest, outside and under the shade of a large cherry tree.

He couldn't sleep, not at all. But he saw Tadashi. With angels falling upon his eyelashes. With a delicate blossom placed upon his brown hair. With his freckles seemingly dancing across Tadashi's face, weaving through the gaps of sunlight and shade to shine. With his chest, rising and falling. With his hand out reached, trying to grab upon something.

The words said beforehand seemed angry, pitiful, dark yet familiar. But the quiet breathing of Tadashi, the gentle blossom placed upon his hair showed his true nature. Of a lover. Of a nurturer. The world seemed to stop, watching the silent and peaceful rest of Yamaguchi Tadashi.

"POWER NAP!" Tadashi screamed, after the 10 minute nap. This had no effect, other than Tadashi noticing Kei had fallen asleep as well, only 3 minutes ago.

From bitter words, to dull emotions, Kei could never be seen other than when he wrote. His elegant words and flowing sentences glided across the pages, showing stories of heart. But when his eyes were closed, a constant, repeating rising and lowering of his back distracted Tadashi for a while.

Kei's golden hair seemed to be the sun, reflecting spots of sunlight shown through the tree of blossoms. The black, thin glasses became askew every minute, making a sense of innocence and childhood bloom through Kei. Arms, compact and close to his body.

"Some things are best told unspoken," Tadashi said.

"I guess so," Kei mumbled as he awoke.