dreaming in retrograde

Kanata Shinkai is a monster. Kanata Shinkai has done unforgivable things. Kanata Shinkai, Kanata Shinkai,

“Shinkai Kanata!” Chiaki shouts; it’s loud. So, so loud.

“Chiaki, can I be…” There are tears trailing down his face; the water wells up and creeps up higher. “Can I ‘become’ a hero?”

“Kanata, listen to me. I know you’re hurting, but you can’t do this. Calm down.”

“Mmm,” Kanata gulps down air. Breathing, breathing, in, out, in-out, in-out.

Chiaki’s voice is steady, grounding. An anchor keeping him stationed on land, keeping the sea from reclaiming him.

The sun shining brightly, chasing the darkness away.

“Stay calm. Take deep breaths,” Chiaki instructs, but even he is against his own instructions; his eyes are full of alarm. Kanata nods. In-out. In-out.

“Don’t… don’t let ‘go’ of me,” Kanata murmurs. The water is up his cheeks. There’s no telling what were tears and what was water anymore; they were inseparable, a whole thing, a thing shaking with sadness and anger.

“I won’t.” Kanata pretends to not notice Chiaki’s voice crack.

“Chiaki…” He’s warm. Kanata doesn’t like hot water, but he’s warm. He is the sun. His fingers, slotted in his own — he is warm, he is material, and he is here. Shinkai Kanata is human. Shinkai Kanata is human. “Shinkai Kanata is human,” Kanata warbles, dizzy. More hot water comes out of his mouth; Chiaki untangles his fingers from Kanata’s and wraps him up in a hug again, heartbeats against heartbeats. Wipes the water from Kanata’s chin with his sleeve. It’s an effervescent feeling that bubbles up, leaving him lightweight; he’s laughing and crying at the same time. “Shinkai Kanata is human. Shinkai Kanata is human.”