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It's been nearly a week since Mirai accidentally found this strange place. And while she misses some things, she finds others easier to live without. (Why does she keep a blog again? Her lip twitches at the thought of people complaining about her overposting once she puts her backlog up.) The one thing proving to be a challenge, other than actually talking to people, is that Observation Window.

And even then, Mirai finds it less intimidated once she's watched it long enough for it to loop. It's almost hypnotic. It may be, strange as it might seem, what she needed to see. Cosmic insignificance can be comforting, especially when curled on a couch with a pot of green tea.

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Autor desperately wants to take his hands in her own, to hold them, but he sits right where he is. "Why did you leave?"

Mirai sniffles and goes, "Please..." in a small voice. "I- I can't right now...."

"No, don't, I... of course," Autor says, holding up his hands. "Can I--tea would be good, right? Let's order--oh, you have some."

He fishes through his pocket and holds out his handkerchief, just in case. "I'm sorry. And please, don't answer anything that makes you sad. I don't want to--I'm sorry."

Mirai accepts the handkerchief, takes off her glasses, and muffles her soft cries with it in her hands. She bends down, her face hidden from Autor.

No one should have to look at anyone as unpleasant as her.

And Autor's heart breaks for her, this homeless fourteen-year-old. He accepts his tea from the rat gratefully, and sets it aside after a sip.

Then he crosses to the bar and orders a thin, soft blanket. When he returns to her, he gingerly lays it across her shoulders without touching her.

She bolts upright at that, the blanket slipping down her back.

"Y-you shouldn't..." she protests, face red and marked with tears.

Autor jumps back, hands up so that he doesn't touch her. "Ah-h. I shouldn't?" he asks, blinking. "I'm... I'm sorry."

He wants to know why not, of course, but the more important part is obeying her preference.

Edited 2014-10-15 04:36 (UTC)

She breathes in and out, eyes burning, face and chest aching, and not entirely sure why Autor stays.

Mirai dabs her eyes one last time and holds the handkerchief back out to him.

Autor takes it, crumpling it in a helpless fist. It's still wet and warm from her tears and his heart twists in his chest. "Miss Kuriyama... Is there anything I can do for you? If even just to help you carry bonsai up to your room."

"Ah, I'll carry those," she insists. Mirai sighs and goes, "C-could you watch my things as I bring them up?"

"Ah, of course," he says, still clinging to the handkerchief as he nods. "I didn't mean to intrude. But of course I can watch your things. Your situation is... Well, you have a room here, and you're covered by the fund for minors, so please, if you can, get some rest while you're here?"

She gets to her feet, carefully picking up one of her bonsai. She was about to turn to head upstairs before realizing something's missing.

"Ah, my glasses," she goes, turning around.

Unfortunately, she moves too fast and nearly fumbles the bonsai. She unbalances herself to catch it and ends up draping herself over her chair with an "oof!" Her bonsai safe, she lets her head droop down.

"Ah, oh no," Autor says, fretting. His hands flit about like a couple of distressed birds; he wants to help sit her up, but he's unsure if he should touch her. Instead, he crouches down so that he can see her face. "Are you all right, Miss Kuriyama?"

She pushes herself up, hands on the back of the chair, and takes a breath.

"I..." No. No, she isn't. But even with how obvious that is, saying that is an invitation to explain. "I'll be all right."

Autor sighs a little, crossing his arms over his knees. He's not sure what to do with this girl anymore--as if he ever was.

"A-All right," he starts, unsure what he's going to say to her. She won't accept his help, so he shouldn't offer. Right? He stands, and clasps his hands behind his back to keep from doing anything with them. "Will be all right to have tea together when you're done, or would you like to unpack?"

"I- I don't know," she answers, putting her glasses back on. "I... I do better on my own...."

"I used to think that about myself," Autor muses quietly, mostly to himself. He glances at his hands, and then back up at her. "But if that's what you say, then I believe you. I don't want to trouble you."

Mirai follows his look to his hands before facing him again. She picks up her bonsai again, stepping more carefully this time.

"Oh... Th-thank you, Autor-senpai. I-if you wouldn't mind watching my things?"

Autor nods, and crosses to the table to pick up his tea again. "Of course. I'll be here when you get back."

It's a slow process, as she only takes one bonsai per trip. Once all of them are safe and sound, she lingers at the chair, oddly reluctant to make the last trip with her suitcase.

Meanwhile, Autor has finished his tea and ordered another cup, which he's working on now. This is certainly a two-cup situation. Possibly three.

Now he has to figure out what to say. "Miss Kuriyama," he starts, and nearly panics; what should he say? "Would you like to go flying with me again sometime? I find it helps clear my head."

Her fingers rest on the handle of the suitcase. She looks up from that to her tea, gone cold long ago, then to his tea, then to Autor.

"Autor-senpai...why?" she finds herself asking again.

"Why? Why take you flying?" Autor asks quietly, a bit surprised.

Because I want to. The realization makes him glance to his tea, her hands, her tea--anywhere but at her face, but he has to return there eventually. He blushes a bit, mellow and soft, and sips his hot tea to cool down his face.

"Because I thought it might help," he answers, and it's just as honest. "Your situation would be overwhelming for anyone; I figured... some magic might help you forget, if just for a little while."

Mirai curls her fingers around the suitcase handle, using her other hand to pick up her tea.

"I'll think about it," she tells him, voice soft and nearly numb.

And Autor's heart breaks again to hear her like that, feeling cracks run right down the middle of him.

"Then... I'll look forward to it," he says gently. "Have a good night, Miss Kuriyama."

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halfemptyglasses - 2014-10-15 06:37 (UTC) - Expand

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herr_bookman - 2014-10-15 06:42 (UTC) - Expand

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