📖 FANFICTION: "FISSURE HEARTS" 📖

The Eclipse fissure opened without warning. It was a Tuesday. Akira hated Tuesdays. He was standing in the middle of the Kokomo Academy courtyard—because of course he was, because the universe loved making his life complicated—when the sky split open. Not literally. That would have been too dramatic. Even for him. No, it was more like someone had taken a knife to reality and carved a jagged wound into the air. Purple light bled out. The smell of ozone and something older—something that reminded Akira of his grandmother's attic, of old photographs and forgotten secrets—filled the courtyard. And then the world tilted. He was falling. He was falling through colors he didn't have names for. He was falling toward someone. Someone with dark hair and a scowl that could curdle milk. Ikari. Of course it was Ikari. Their eyes met in the freefall—because of course they did, because the universe was a cruel, cruel comedian—and Akira had approximately 0.3 seconds to process the expression on her face. It wasn't anger. It wasn't annoyance. It was something else. Something that looked almost like fear. And then they hit the ground. Except it wasn't ground. It was a floor. A floor that looked like it had been imported from a 1980s horror movie—checkered tiles, flickering lights, and that particular shade of green that only existed in abandoned hospitals and bad decisions. "Get off me, Shimura," Ikari growled, shoving him. Akira scrambled away, his heart pounding. "I wasn't on you. We fell. Simultaneously. There was no—" "You were literally on top of me." "That's—that's not—I was falling! There were physics involved!" "Physics," she repeated flatly. "You're using physics as an excuse." "I'm not making excuses. I'm stating facts. Your inability to accept facts isn't my problem." "Everything is your problem, Shimura. Everything. That's literally your entire personality." "My personality is not a problem." "Your personality is a catastrophe. It's a natural disaster. If your personality were a weather system, it would be a hurricane that destroys small islands." "That doesn't even make sense." "It makes perfect sense. You're a hurricane. A hurricane with bedhead and a persecution complex." "I don't have a persecution complex." "You think everyone is out to get you." "Because everyone IS out to get me." "Oh my god," Saiko's voice cut through the argument from somewhere behind them. "You two are literally arguing about physics. In a mysterious pocket dimension. That we just fell into. We don't even know where we are. We don't know if we can get out. And you're arguing about who was on top of whom." "I wasn't on top of her," Akira said immediately. "You were literally on top of me," Ikari snapped. "I was falling!" "You were on top of me!" "This is a very mature conversation," Obake said flatly, his voice muffled by the hood of his jacket. He was standing slightly apart from the group, his ghost friends hovering behind him like a spectral entourage. "The ghosts are taking bets on who's going to win the argument." "Who's winning?" Yori asked, peering at the ghosts with innocent curiosity. "They have no idea," Obake said. "They're just arguing with each other too." "That's... actually very comforting," Yori said. "Your ghost friends are arguing with each other," Saiko said, grinning. "That's amazing. What are they arguing about?" "Whether Akira and Ikari are going to kiss or kill each other." Akira choked. "We are not going to—they are not—why would they even—" "The ghosts say it's a very important question," Obake said, his expression unchanged. "They're split 50-50. Janice thinks you're going to kiss. Mark thinks you're going to kill each other." "Who's Janice?" "A Victorian-era ghost who used to work in a factory." "Why does a Victorian-era ghost have an opinion about me and Ikari?" "Janice is a romantic. She ships everyone." "I don't know what 'ships' means," Ikari said, her voice clipped. "And I don't want to know." "It means she wants you two to get together," Saiko explained cheerfully. "We are not getting together." "We are not getting together." They said it at the same time. Then they glared at each other. Then Saiko burst out laughing. "You two are SO predictable," she said, wiping a tear from her eye. "Literally the most predictable people I've ever met. You're like a rom-com. A really angsty rom-com. With explosions. And ghosts. And a cat who's definitely a secret agent." "I'm not in a rom-com," Akira said. "I'm not in a rom-com," Ikari said. "Ramen is definitely a secret agent," Mayako said, stepping forward with a bottle of something that was probably not water. "She knows things. She's always watching. She judges me. I'm not drunk enough for this conversation." "You're always drunk," Akane said, her guitar slung over her shoulder. She had somehow managed to keep her guitar during the fall, which was either impressive or a sign that the universe had a sense of humor. "I'm not always drunk," Mayako said. "I'm sometimes... marinated. There's a difference." "Is there?" Akane asked. "No," Mayako admitted. "There isn't. I just wanted to sound more poetic." "This is a very strange pocket dimension," Yori said, looking around the room. "Why does it look like a hospital from a horror movie? Who designed this? Was it the Eclipse Deity? Is the Eclipse Deity a bad interior decorator?" "The Eclipse Deity probably doesn't care about interior design," Akira said. "That's exactly what someone who has bad taste would say," Saiko said. "I don't have bad taste." "You have the worst taste. You wear the same jacket every day. You never style your hair. You've had the same bag for three years and it's literally falling apart." "That bag is vintage." "That bag is a biohazard." "Why are we arguing about my bag?" "Because you won't argue about what's actually bothering you," Saiko said, her voice shifting from teasing to something softer. "Akira. You've been like this all day. More stressed than usual. More tired. More... angry. What's going on?" Akira opened his mouth. Closed it. Opened it again. Nothing came out. Because what could he say? That he'd been having dreams? Nightmares? Dreams that felt more like memories? Visions of a grandmother who'd died in a street she had no business being on? Visions of a case he couldn't solve? Visions of a city that was falling apart and a cult that was rising from the ashes? Visions of Ikari. Because of course she was in his dreams. Of course she was. She was everywhere. She was in his nightmares, she was in his waking thoughts, she was in every argument, every fight, every moment of frustration that made his blood boil and his pulse race. He didn't know what that meant. He was terrified of what it might mean. "I'm fine," he said. "You're not fine," Ikari said. "I'm fine." "You're not fine." "How would you know what I am or am not?" "Because I'm not an idiot, Shimura." "No one said you were an idiot. I said you were annoying." "Same thing." "It is absolutely not the same thing." "It is when you say it." "I can't with you." "You can't with me? You can't with me? What does that even mean?" "It means you are impossible." "I'm impossible? I'm impossible? You're the one who—" "Okay, this is getting weird," Akane said, stepping between them. "Like, weirder than usual. Ikari. Akira. Can we please focus on the fact that we are trapped in an interdimensional nightmare hospital? That seems important." "Interdimensional nightmare hospitals are terrible for emotional processing," Obake said. "The ghosts are complaining about the lighting." "The ghosts can see the lighting?" Yori asked. "Ghosts can see everything," Obake said. "That's why they're so good at gossip." "I love your ghost friends," Saiko said. "They're the best part of this whole situation." "They think you're a lot," Obake said. "But they like you." "I'll take that as a win." Akira pinched the bridge of his nose. The headache was back. The persistent, throbbing ache that had become his constant companion. He'd been ignoring it for days. Weeks. Years, maybe. He couldn't ignore it anymore. Because when he closed his eyes, he saw her. Ikari. Angry. Beautiful. Infuriating. Every argument. Every fight. Every moment of tension that crackled between them like electricity. He couldn't stop thinking about her. And he hated it. "We need to find a way out," he said, forcing his voice to be steady. "We can't stay here. We need to find the exit." "Assuming there is an exit," Ikari said. "There's always an exit." "There's not always an exit. This is the Eclipse, Akira. Sometimes there's no exit. Sometimes you just fall into a hole and you never come back." "We're not going to fall into a hole and never come back." "How do you know?" "Because I won't let that happen." The words came out harsher than he intended. He saw her eyes widen, just slightly. For a moment, just a moment, the wall she kept around herself seemed to waver. Then it was back. Stronger than before. Impenetrable. "I don't need you to save me, Shimura," she said. "I'm not trying to save you." "Then what are you trying to do?" "I don't know." "You don't know?" "I don't know!" The confession hung in the air between them. Heavy. Fragile. Terrible. "I don't know why I care," Akira said, the words falling out of him like stones. "I don't know why I think about you all the time. I don't know why I can't stop fighting with you. I don't know why you're the last thing I see before I fall asleep and the first thing I see when I wake up. I don't know anything. I just know that—" He stopped. She was staring at him. They were all staring at him. Saiko had her hands over her mouth. Obake was completely still. Yori looked confused. Mayako had stopped drinking. Akane's guitar was silent. "He's going to say it," Janice the Victorian ghost whispered. "SHUT UP, JANICE," Akira shouted at the ghost he couldn't even see. "Oh my god," Saiko breathed. "Oh my god. This is happening. This is actually happening." "What's happening?" Yori asked. "Akira is having a FEELING." "Akira has feelings?" "Yes. And he's about to admit it." "I am not going to—" "You were literally just about to," Saiko said. "I saw it. I saw the confession building. It was right there. On your face. You were going to tell her." "Tell me what?" Ikari asked, her voice carefully neutral. "That he—" "SAIKO." "—think she's—" "Saiko, I will destroy you." "—the most beautiful person he's ever met." The silence that followed was absolute. It lasted for exactly three seconds. Then Ikari spoke. "I think he has low standards," she said. "But thank you." "THANK YOU? She said THANK YOU?" Mayako shrieked. "That's not how you respond to a confession!" "It wasn't a confession," Akira said. "It was literally a confession," Saiko said. "It was a statement of fact," Akira said. "That's what a confession is," Saiko said. "No it's not." "Yes it is." "I hate all of you," Akira said. "Every single one of you. I'm going to die in this interdimensional nightmare hospital and my last thought will be that I hate every single one of you." "You're not going to die," Ikari said. "How do you know?" "Because I won't let you." She said it without thinking. He could see it in her eyes—the moment the words escaped, the moment she realized what she'd done. Then she looked away. And Akira felt something shift in his chest. Something that might have been hope. Something that might have been love. Something that might have been the beginning of the end of everything he'd ever known. "OH MY GOD," Saiko screamed. "OH MY GOD. THIS IS THE BEST DAY OF MY LIFE." "We're literally trapped," Yori said. "I don't care. This is the best day of my life. I'm going to remember this forever. I'm going to tell my grandchildren about this. 'Children,' I'll say, 'I watched true love unfold in an interdimensional nightmare hospital.'" "You don't have grandchildren," Mayako said. "I will someday. And they'll know. Everyone will know." "This is humiliating," Akira said. "This is mortifying," Ikari said. "This is the greatest thing that's ever happened," Saiko said. "The ghosts are taking photos," Obake said. "They have no way to take photos. But they're pretending to." "I'm going to join the ghosts," Mayako said. "At least they know how to mind their own business." "The ghosts don't know how to mind their own business," Obake said. "They literally run a betting pool." "A betting pool?" Saiko asked. "A betting pool. On whether Akira and Ikari will kiss by chapter three." "It's been eleven thousand words," Yori said. "That seems like a long time for a kiss." "It's slow burn," Saiko said. "That's the point." "What's slow burn?" "You'll learn eventually, Yori. You'll learn." Akira wanted to disappear. He wanted to evaporate into the bad 1980s lighting and never have to face any of these people ever again. But Ikari was still looking at him. And she was saying something. And he needed to hear it. "I think about you too," she said. The words were soft. Almost inaudible. But he heard them. "I think about you all the time," she continued. "I think about you when I'm working out. I think about you when I'm at the coffee shop. I think about you when I'm fighting with Ramen." "You argue with your cat about me?" Akira asked. "She has opinions," Ikari said. "She thinks you're annoying." "She's not wrong." "She also thinks you're... something else." "Something else?" "I don't know what the word is. She's a cat. She doesn't have a large vocabulary." "What does she think I am?" "She thinks you're..." The words hung in the air. Then Ikari said it. "She thinks you're mine." Akira stopped breathing. "She told me you were mine about six months ago," Ikari continued. "I didn't believe her. But I couldn't stop thinking about it. And now we're here. Trapped in a nightmare hospital. And I'm telling you this because I'm terrified. I'm terrified of what happens next. I'm terrified that we'll never get out of here. I'm terrified that—" He kissed her. It wasn't planned. It wasn't graceful. It was messy and desperate and exactly what they both needed. She kissed him back. They stood in the middle of the interdimensional nightmare hospital, surrounded by flickering lights and terrible interior design, and they kissed like the world was ending. Because in a way, it was. When they finally pulled apart, Saiko was crying. "THAT WAS BEAUTIFUL," she sobbed. "THAT WAS THE MOST BEAUTIFUL THING I'VE EVER SEEN." "Janice is crying too," Obake said. "She's a ghost so it's not real tears. But she's pretending." "I love Janice," Saiko said. "Janice loves you too." "We're trapped in a nightmare hospital," Yori said. "But I think I'm okay with it now." "I need a drink," Mayako said. "I know I already have a drink. But I need another one." "I'm going to write a song about this," Akane said. "I'm calling it 'Fissure Hearts.'" "That's the title of the fic," Yori said. "I know. I'm borrowing it." "That's plagiarism." "It's homage." Akira looked at Ikari. She looked back at him. And for the first time in years—maybe for the first time ever—he felt something that wasn't exhaustion, anger, or fear. He felt hope. "We're still trapped," he said. "I know," she said. "We need to find a way out." "I know." "We need to stay focused." "I know." "I'm really tired." "I know." "I'm really tired and I really want to kiss you again." "I know," she said. "I also know that we need to get out of here first. And then after that, I'm going to take you to the coffee shop and we're going to have the most awkward date of our lives." "We're going to have a date?" "We're going to have several dates. I'm going to make you sleep. I'm going to make you eat. I'm going to make you actually talk about your feelings instead of bottling them up until you explode." "That sounds terrifying." "It's going to be," she said. "But I'm doing it anyway." "Why?" "Because you're mine," she said. "And I don't give up on what's mine." Akira smiled. It was small. It was fragile. It was the first real smile he'd had in years. But it was there. "Okay," he said. "Let's get out of here." "Okay," she said. "Let's go." And they walked into the darkness together. Hand in hand. ~ End of Chapter 1 ~