Growing up as a social person, Sora Suzuki was surrounded by love and affection- even from the most random people. Tender strokes, gentle kisses. Love came to him in the form of five unique beings, and damn, he's in deep. But when shit happens, and...
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JULY THIRTEENTH, TWO THOUSAND AND TWENTY
09:24 in the morning
SORA FOUND A FOUR LEAF clover once, when he was eight. His mother said it was a miracle to find one in the park (the one near their house), and she showed him how to pick it from the ground after a quick lesson in flower language. She held the tiny sprig between her fingers and whispered to him, "They bring good luck."
He didn't quite understand what she meant, then— how could a piece of grass bring good luck?
But he accepted it, when his mother put the clover in his hand and closed his fist.
"Protect it," she told him. "And in turn, it'll protect you."
He kept it under his pillow for weeks, checking on it each night, just before he slept. He watched it slowly wither, curling into itself, and thought, I must not be very good at protecting.
(His soulmates entered his life, and he swore he wouldn't let them end up like his clover).
But all things die; he knew that now. Flowers, clovers and, even people.
Sora awoke that morning with heavy eyes and an itchy throat. His chest felt heavy like someone had laid a metal plate on it. The bed was cold and hard, and the sheets scratched against his skin. His body was hot, but he was shivering.
Distantly, he could hear the clang of pots and pans outside his door and winced. He couldn't remember what happened last night to warrant this sudden headache. All he recalled was feeling sluggish after dinner, his limbs lethargic and his tendons aching with every stretch.
Sora inhaled and was caught in a fit of coughs.
"What the fuck," he muttered.
He shoved the blanket off his body, kicking it down to the end of the bed, and tried to roll over. He was met with a stabbing pain that shot down his spine. Sora let out a muffled groan as he collapsed onto his mattress.
His mind took a while to clock in these sudden symptoms— he was sick. Horribly, by the sounds of things.
He heard a thud from the kitchen and groaned as he slowly peeled himself away from his bed. The sun peeked through his drawn curtains, bright and harsh, as if the heavens themselves were angry with him. And it certainly felt like they were.
The smell of tofu and eggs hung heavily in the air. Vegetables roasted in the oven. Sora stumbled to the kitchen, taking care to keep his balance as he made his way through the long hallway. It took him only moments to realize that the noise had been emanating from his soulmates cooking breakfast in the middle of the morning. Their voices sounded like sweet music to his ears. Each one was a different melody, something that called to his attention.
