Note: I’m rewriting history but . . . argh screw that! I don’t wanna break the glass ceiling of fanfic writing! I wanna bring down the whole building! Not to mention, nothing is chronological so beware; time is a thematic concern of mine (I’m turning this into a bloody English lesson >_<).

Hourglass - two

He stared at the sky above, and blinked a few times as tiny droplets of water touched his eyes. He shifted slightly on the wet grass and felt his pullover drag its stringy fingers over his flesh.

He could vaguely understand somewhere that it wasn't healthy to do this; to lie upon a grassy hill and watch the heavens open. But he didn't really feel cold anymore, since he was frozen. One feeling had no difference from another. It was monotony . . .

His eyes flickered away from his vacant stare at the grey sky over him. The pine trees were wet. Their greenness sharp against the grey backdrop. The pristine glory of nature.

Sitting up, he looked for the iron roof tops and the steel poles at the base of his cushion of greenery. The old train tracks, forgotten, unused, but still shiny and seemingly alive, like silvery snakes embedded in the ground. They were alone, like him.

His eyes flicked. A distant figure was walking. He rose to his knees and looked up from under his drenched hair. Clad in black, it looked like a person about his age, walking and twirling in the rain. He watched their mouth open and the rain water fall into the dark cavern of their throat.

No one knew about this place; it was nowhere.

A quick slide over the wet field downward and his feet touched pebbled dirt. He quickened his pace to the abandoned factory. Cracked windows, broken stairs, wood that had rotten away and bricks that were crumbling – that was the essence of this place; ruins.

Left, right, left, right. He tried to coordinate his lead feet, heavy and bulky. He couldn't remember the last time he slept for more than 3 hours. His head was raw and open; he felt there was a gaping wound on his forehead.

He sensed the dewy air licking at it, flicking the open wound with its airy tongue. He paused; the other was dancing in the puddles, jumping up and down, mumbling. A mysterious and androgynous figure dancing to the fluidity of water, and not fire.

He smiled, amused at the mud covering their shins, shoes and socks. They didn’t seem to mind. He cleared his throat and the person looked up at him. Their face was hidden mostly by the scarf and hood, but he made out the eyes. Clear, intense eyes.

“Hi . . .”

The figure looked forward and then back at him, voice muffled “. . . hi.”

“Are you looking for anything?”

The figure shrugged, “No, I’m just walking around being restless.”

“You don’t sound like you’re from around here.”

“I’m not.” The figure looked down, and tapped their watch.

He was taken back by the brisk and sharp answers with no elaborations or explanations; this was no shy or stuttering teenage girl; the stranger could be a boy but he really couldn’t tell, so covered up like that; he liked the confidence in their manners either way.

“Are you lost?”

The other shook their head, “No, I’m where I want to be.”

“Are you sure? We are in the middle of nowhere.”

He caught the faint traces of a playful smile from the darkness of the hood pulled down. “To be lost, you have to be where you don’t want to be, right? If that’s the case, I’m fine, but thank you for asking anyway.”

“You want to be here, in the middle of nowhere?”

“Is that so hard to comprehend? You’re here, aren’t you? At least I’m dry, you’re all wet.”

He smiled. “Maybe I want to be wet.”

“Okay, sounds reasonable but you gotta be pretty insane for that.” Hands in pockets, feet shuffling shyly before peeking up from under the hood. “Hey, wanna be friends? I’m bored because my parents are on holidays and they dragged me here.”

“Okay.” The speed they connected at dazed him.

“Wonderful!” The figure tapped their watch, “Hey, friend, do you have the time?”

He reached into his pocket and pulled out a velvet bundle. He shook it and a silver pocket watch fell into his palm. He checked the time. Afternoon, 4 pm. He slipped it into his pocket and looked up.

“It’s 4 already.”

The figure hit their head, “Ah shit! Crap, love to talk but I’m late!”

Promptly, the other started to run away from him.

“Wait. What’s your name? Who are you?” he called out.

“I’ll come back! Your watch is real cool! See ya tomorrow!”

+

He came back the next day, true to the promise. The sun was warm and lazy, and he sat on a rusty abandoned bench among the debris, falling asleep. His breaths came out in little puffs of white air. The sunshine on his black clothes felt wonderful.

“Um . . . hi. Wow, you came back.” He heard a shy voice.

He perked up and landed in a heap on the floor. The shadow of his mysterious stranger over him, and he looked up. Still all covered up in clothing and scarves like a chaste nun, but he could make out the beginning of smooth cheekbones. Ivory cheeks.

He smiled, “Why wouldn’t I be?”

The other reached out and jerked him up, “Because people are very forgetful, that’s why. And you don’t know me, any more than I know you. Because of a lot of things, I guess.”

“What’s your name?”

The other winked at him, “Ah, so curious, eh? Sorry, no-can-tell. If I told you, I’d have to kill you. Maybe you can just call me something else, like a nickname. Call me . . . um . . . that’s difficult.”

“You can call me K.”

The eyes smiled at him, “Hello, K, I’m pleased to me you, just call me something crap like rain, Ame, for now, because I’m leeched for ideas. Good adjective though, eh? I like the rain. Of course I like the sun too.”

“It’s okay for a nickname.”

They shook hands seriously and smiled at each other for a second.

Ame looked around, “So, um, what do you do usually? Is this what you do?”

“No, this is just one of the things I do. It’s nice here, all alone, not loud or anything, peaceful.”

“Yeah, you’re right. Okay, let’s do a bio, K. I’m a junior, I like blue, red, I like tasting things and school sucks. I like art though, drawing is really fun. Yep, and I have blood-type B, so that should make up for a lot of things. I think that’s as condensed as it gets.” He tapped his head, “Yep, that’s it. Oh and I read.”

“You’re quite tall. Well, I’m a senior, and I hate school too. I’m interested in playing in a band at the moment, especially since I’ll be leaving school pretty soon. Sorry, not that fantastic at art; like how it looks, the theory goes right over my head. Blood-type A, so I think I’m excused.”

“Hey, what’s with the apology? It’s just a subject. Band, eh? Sounds interesting; actually, I’m pretty interested in being in a band myself but for later, I think. I’m so gonna sprawl around for a few more years. So, what about the rest?”

He smiled, “Just window dressing.”

Ame laughed behind the blue scarf, “Window dressing? It’s the dressing that makes the window.”

“Can we ignore it though?”

“Sure,” Ame smiled, “Whatever you want, K.”

He smiled back; his friend had a dazzling and sublime smile, the divine curl of lips for him and for him alone since no one else was here. The solar core perched as a crown behind his enigmatic friend; he saw fingers of sunshine through the trees warping towards them.

He thought the sun was very bright that afternoon, but that could have just been his imagination. Ame was a lively speaker, and the tone variation made everything buzz with electricity. He swore his tongue was shocked by a random bolt when Ame stuck a piece of candy in his mouth.

Ame’s eyes crinkled with a beam, “Like it?”

“It’s nice. Watermelon?”

“Yup. Too cold for watermelon at the moment, so candy substitutes will have to do.”

“You like watermelon, then?”

“I like fruit. Are you a fruit? I like you.”

He grinned, “No, I hope not. Even if I was, I’d be an extremely strange fruit.”

Eyes peered at him, “Do you like to be strange?”

“I don’t know, I think I always was strange and then it just became more me, when I realised that I would seek strange things out so now I like it, I guess. Dreaming about being anyone else just wastes my time; this is me. I’ll think about my options when I get reincarnated.”

And the clock struck 4 in the afternoon somewhere; Ame disappeared with a cheerful wave and lingering promise to return soon.

“I’ll be back. Believe me, it’s bor~ing where I’m staying.”

Ame came back the next day. They sat together in the sun and watched the birds in the trees. Ame came back again and again and again. Shooting blue-silver arrow in his days, his unusual source of inspiration. They talked about different manga titles and drawing styles and music and social annoyances and quirks. He smiled so happily at such a companion.

“I eat a lot.”

“You do?”

“Yeah . . . it was like, I had this meat pastry thing this morning, two chocolate bars, a mandarin.”

“That’s okay.”

“Yeah, well then I had hot chips, and then I had a chicken burger. And I drank a bottle of that caffeine drink what’s-it’s-name. The yellow can one, you know, right? Anyway, yeah, had that. Then I ate two ice creams-”

“In the middle of winter?!”

“Well . . .” Ame blushed and smiled, “- It’s halfway spring now. And then I had sushi, and then noodles, and then fried rice. Here I am now, having Kentucky chicken with you. Parents are taking me out for shabu shabu tonight at my dad’s boss’s house and I’m gonna have to eat MORE. Dammit, I don’t even know if I can bow low enough; my stomach is like bloated.”

He laughed. “Good luck.”

Ame picked up a piece of chicken, “Thanks for the sympathy. Um, this is harsh. I can’t stick the chicken up my scarf! ARGH! Fuck that, I’m sticking to chips.”

“You should just take it off.”

“What? You’re trying to steal my clothes now?”

“It’s a scarf, not your underwear.”

“Well, I like scarf more than my underwear. Why else can you see my scarf? Cos you certainly can’t see my underwear.” Ame looked down and smirked, “Nope, no underwear seen. Unless you’re a pervert with X-ray vision.”

Voices that merged and coalesced into a haunting melody sung to him by the ear. The little breaths tickled him but he was comforted. The voice of a child; clear, resonant, sharp, smooth, low. Ame had a theory on the future; they were all going to eat invisible meals and never get fat, that computers were going to rule the world and that virtual reality bit back.

Ame laughed, “Think of it. When space travel becomes an everyday affair, it’s gonna so much fun tracing your luggage through the solar system! It’s like: hello, why is my luggage on Pluto when I’m on Mars? Sorry sir, but you will not have fresh underwear for the next month.”

Even when it rained and the puddles strewn across the muddy ground dirtied them, they came back and stood in the rain to speak to each other in a language not many could understand. He smiled at his mysterious friend, and his stranger smiled back somewhere behind a veil.

“I like ants.” He said. “They’re small and invisible.”

“When ants eat a fallen flake of our skin, we become part of them. It’s a nice idea, eh? Too bad they’d destroy the world in 7 days, people-sized.” His anonymous friend stared at the ground with a little smile.

Ame’s messy black hair poked out from under the snow cap wore. He reached up and touched it curiously. Black hair, with a smooth, but moist texture. Ame pulled away and tucked the hair back into the hat. He couldn’t tell, but it seemed they were almost shy, even embarrassed.

“Sorry. Just wanted to know your hair colour, you know, you’re so covered up. It’s kind of . . . disturbing if you know what I mean.” He grinned and tried to gently peel away Ame’s scarf. “If you take it off, you’ll be able to eat chicken too.”

Blinking, the eyelashes rising and falling to a bodily beat unseen to him. The little gasp and the cold dry fingers that picked away at his and pinched his hands away from the woolly scarf. He didn’t understand the electric signals of this brain.

Ame covered their face with their hands, and brushed him away. “Stop it.”

He grinned and leaned closer, his hand on the face. “Why should I?”

“You’re embarrassing me.” Ame slapped his hands away.

He wringed them together on his lap, “What’s wrong? What’s so embarrassing?”

“I want be . . . anonymous. It’s safe that way . . .” Ame sounded ashamed.

He didn’t understand what the problem was, “Safe?”

Ame leaned closer, so close he could make out the iris in the dark and intense eyes. He watched the flower fluctuating; open and close; open and close; the steady rhythm. Flower of myriad shapes speckled among black velvet sky.

“Can you see me?” A small whisper, and he felt hot air filter through the fabric of the scarf and scorch his face, like the acidic snarl of the harshest summer sun. Blooming warmth.

He choked on his words, “Yes . . .”

Eyes of morphing dimension and shade, flower of iris and an amber speckled velvet sky of black. It closed on him. His beautifully strange friend leaned closer and pressed their forehead to his; intimate exchange. If he listened closely, he could hear millions of hushed whispers calling to him through that layer of flesh and bone.

“You would like to, wouldn’t you? It’s dangerous, you know, like my name. I’ll kill you. It’s like they said . . .everything is unreal . . . like a dream . . . like a song . . . like memories . . . like . . . I don’t know. I can’t explain anything clearly, but it’s like recognition or something. Do you believe that?”

His voice was gone, “I want to see the person I’m talking to. Who are you . . .? Please . . .”

“I’m sorry . . . I can’t . . .”

Tracing lips on the junction between his neck and jaw. He closed his eyes and saw the gleaming shooting arrow in the afternoon sun. He saw himself sitting for hours at the foot of the stairs, watching dolls dressed in blue coloured winter clothes.

“Goodbye. I’m glad to have known you . . . I . . . have to go home now, my parents are taking me back home . . . I’m sorry. Goodbye! I -!”

He grabbed their hands and brought them to his face, gliding his lips across the surface. Slim hands, not too thin, with tapering fingers, cut nails; it smelt clean, a lot like soap and watermelon lollies. His tongue flicked out.

Salty, like the foaming sea. He liked salty things and he liked the sea. But there was a sweetness to it, the fruity obsessions rising to the surface of the skin, and the juices sparked bolts of electricity on the blessed tongue. He squeezed his eye shut and willed time to stop.

“Goodbye . . .” the rest descended into whispers.

The rustling of clothing on wood. The crunch of gravel and dirt. Further and further away. He didn’t dare open his eyes. He wanted to keep them closed and go to sleep. His mouth opened to speak, but he stopped, knowing there would be no ears to hear him.

He opened his eyes and stared up at the vastness of the sky, the soaring blue and little spots of snow in the watercolours. He could still hear birds in the background, and the other familiar sounds. He was alone.

He scoured the surroundings; his beautiful stranger was gone. His eyes dragged over the landscape. The park, the abandoned grounds next to it; there was nothing. The soft rain fell. He was confused; had it never stopped raining?

Empty and abandoned.

He wondered if it was all a figure of his imagination. Was he so pathetically alone and bored? Did he conjure up a colourful character to entertain him? An invisible friend?

Kaoru went home.

The pocket watch was missing.

‘It’s like memories . . . recognition . . .’

He thought he heard a small whisper inside his mind before he went to sleep that night.

Arna.