Rooftops At Sunrise

23

Aoi and Damian rouse with absolutely no memory of ever having fallen asleep, or, of their dreams.

Neither of them question this fact, however. They assume it is because of the van, and of them not being used to sleeping in a moving vehicle.

"God," Damian sighs. He scratches the back of his head, sits up against the bed that had served him as a bench last night, as he tries to blink his fatigue away. "It's been two whole days already, and we still haven't seen any aliens!"

Aoi grabs a pillow that she uses to cover her face. She groans into its cotton case. "No!" she snaps. "You are not giving us the alien talk so early in the morning! I'm sure it's not even seven yet! How can you be thinking of those things when you're barely awake?"

She tugs the pillow downward, then peeks past it, and stares at the sky that has only slightly turned a lighter shade of peach pink, and is beginning to devour the dark, purple colors that seem quite intent on lingering up there, for as long as they possibly can. "What time is it, anyway?"

"No clue." Damian squints, until the view of the two leather seats up front become less of a blur to him. "Hey, Lucas?" he calls. "Where are we?"

This definitely isn't the question Aoi wanted him to ask—if it is later than she expected to rouse at, she could be tardy with taking her medication. However, as she spares a glance again at the outside world—lowers her eyes, this time—the young woman soon understands why Damian has uttered these words.

They are parked in the middle of the field of sunflowers, it seems. No roads are in sight.

How they even got here is beyond Aoi's reckoning. "Okay," she cringes. "What the fu—"

"Aoi! Damian!" Lucas comes waltzing into the van, like nothing is amiss. "Come here," he ushers them over with a swift, motion of his arm. "Come see how cool this is!"

He runs back outside again.

Damian and Aoi turn to each other with frowns over their eyes. "Weird," they both mutter, under their breaths.

"Yep," Aoi says, after a small moment in which the two have gone silent. "But," she pushes herself up against her elbows. "Why not!"

Damian reaches out to stop her, however, the young woman is too fast for him. She speeds out of the vehicle in turn with a giggle.

The young man briefly hears her ask Lucas for the time, before he himself decides to join them with a groan, and a few steps forward, as he grabs his jacket that had been abandoned onto the van's passenger seat.

Outside, a wooden ladder has been propped up against the van's faded, orange paint. Aoi has her arms crossed, and is staring at the item suspiciously. "I don't know," she tells Lucas; her voice is hushed, even though there is no reason for it to be. "Is this really hygienic?"

Lucas shows her a curt bow; he holds up his pinky finger. "I swear on my life that I wiped it all down. You shall not be exposed to the horrors of life—also known as bird excrements!"

She slaps his hand down in a playful manner, then rolls her eyes. Around them, the sunflowers sway amid the summer's gentle wind. "Don't make fun of the horrors of life, or they'll come for you," the young woman tells him.

Something tells Damian Aoi isn't speaking about animal feces anymore. He clears his throat in hopes of lightening up the mood, then raises his hand into the air and says, "I'll go first!"

"Yay!" Lucas punches the sky. "I knew I could count on you!"

Damian grasps at the ladder with a single hand; he tugs at his jacket and sweatpants with the other. "I have to wash my clothes today anyway," he turns to Lucas, laughs, before he shows the young chef a playful wink. "Won't hurt to dirty them a little."