Rooftops At Sunrise

15

No time, in Aoi's opinion, was quite a long time. The young woman is not as sick as usual—that, in itself, is quite a feat.

However, Aoi still feels terrible, and as Lucas goes on a tangent—regarding which flour he should bring along with him to make the best pancakes tomorrow morning at breakfast on his portable, heated plaque—Aoi wants nothing more than to bend over, and hurl onto his knees. Please, she thinks, as she holds her sides, stop.

The young woman brings a hand to her lips. "Make him stop," she mutters.

And Damian lets out an awkward laugh, before he pulls her aside, away from the mall's entrance. He waves at Lucas, who stares at them, perplexed. "We'll be with you in a sec!" Damian calls out to him. "Go on ahead without us!"

Lucas seems slightly vexed to be entering the shopping center alone. However, he merely crosses his arms, and then follows Damian's instructions without much of a fight. "Fine," he huffs. "But you better not steal the van."

Damian furrows his brows. You have the keys, idiot, he thinks, though, he does not say it aloud, as he turns again, to check on Aoi's state. "So? What now?" he asks her, with his hands pressed to his hips. "Should I just send a text to Lucas and tell him we're staying outside?"

"Rooftop," Aoi blurts, with her head hung low. She takes a deep breath.

"Huh?" Damian frowns. What do you mean, rooftop?"

*

They shuffle through a bustling sea of people and take the elevator up to the mall's last floor. The short trip does not help with Aoi's nausea, but she does not complain. It is only temporary, as is everything on this planet.

When they make it to the top, Aoi is relieved to find that—like back at her school—the mall's staff did not lock the door to the roof.

They step onto concrete surrounded by a circle of plants. The young woman cannot say whether the air is fresher up here, or more polluted, nor does she care, for now, she finally feels safe; like nothing could happen to her today, no matter what.

"Well—" Damian stretches his arms up to the sky, before letting his palms rest up against the back of his neck. He glances Aoi's way. "Someone looks cheered up."

He stops to consider why, then asks her, "Did the meds you took in Lucas's van finally have their intended effect, or..." Damian raises a brow. "Are rooftops just that magical?"

Aoi shuts the door behind them. She steps forward, then sighs. Her shoulders deflate. Her back is turned to Damian, now. "You wouldn't understand," she tells him.

"Really now?" He hums, then joins her side. His fingers are twined together behind his back. Damian wishes he had bought a scarf with him, for he finds it quite cold up here; especially since it is the morning. "And why is that?" he asks, as he wriggles around on his spot, before he finally kneels in an overdramatic manner, and looks up, until he is facing Aoi's gaze once more. "May I remind you, young lady, that I've been to as many rooftops as I could in my life! I know a thing or two about them."

"It's not about the rooftop itself," Aoi admits; her arms tense by her sides. Her fingers curl into her palms, that soon turn into fists. She is dizzy. Tired. She grabs her elbow. This conversation is stressing her out, and she wants—for the first time since they left Damian's apartment—to be back home, waking up to the sounds of people who try to talk normally, yet always end up shouting instead. "At least," Aoi clears her throat. "I don't think it is."

"Then," Damian leans his chin against his knuckles. He glances at her again. "What is it about?"

The young woman shrugs. "I guess... if I have to put my finger on it, I'd say it's the ritual."