All it took was a plane crash, and Kise Ryota was no more.
Strangely enough, he didn't feel sadness, only regret. Regret for not checking his engine beforehand. Regret for missing out on his friends with his job as a pilot. Regret for not spending t...
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He woke up with a start, suddenly sitting up in his bed he reached for his aching head. His ragged breathing echoed in the dimly litted room, the moonlight which threaded through the curtains cast a shadow over his white blanket.
Sweat beaded his forehead, leaving his short black bangs to stick to his face as he felt the slightly damp cover underneath the palm of his hand.
His eyes were tightly closed as he tried to soothe his throbbing head. He hissed, both from the physical pain of his previous exercises and his dream. His grip on the now wrinkled blanket tightened as he harshly twisted it.
His steely grey eyes cautiously fluttered open as he dazedly stared at the crumpled cover before him. "What—" he weakly exhaled. "The hell was that?" he muttered, keeping a tight grip on his sweaty locks of black, the other hand lightly rubbing his sinuses in another attempt to soothe the pain.
He reclined in his bed, leaning his sore back on the metallic bedframe, the chilly material sent a shiver down his spine at the contact. His head fell back, hitting the wall as his hand let go of his hair to rest on his chest, near his heart.
He could feel it restlessly drumming against his ribcage, the same way it usually did after an intensive training session or basketball match. Slowly, he regulated his breathing, and his heart rate went down. He heaved a relieved sigh, having calmed down his agitated body successfully.
He felt some apprehension at the prospect, never had he felt so agitated upon waking up from a dream— or nightmare for all it mattered. What's more, it all felt so real.
As if it all truly happened, and honestly speaking, the last scene only served to further fuel his rising doubts regarding the authenticity of his dream.
Only— how was he supposed to react when the only familiar face in this mess was his friend who he hadn't seen since Junior High?
::
Mikaël felt the blinding light against his eyelid gradually recede until it went back to normal. He carefully fluttered his golden eyes open, to be met with the troubled sight of his blond guardian.
The half Italian casually sat on one of the couch, one leg over the other as he held a cup of coffee— or so Ryota deduced from the scent which wafted to his nose.
Claude gingerly put his cup down before he rubbed the bridge of his nose in his usual fed up manner. Ryota felt himself unconsciously stiffen. His eyes darted to the two figures behind the adult, settling on Chikusa's tall figure before resting on Ken's agape face.
