lavender; nishimura riki

twenty.

5/9 1:46pm - on set.

Leo is laying on the bed he shares with his mother in their apartment. The sheets are neatly pressed giving an illusion of calm and safety. He flips the matches in his hand. He wonders how it would feel to strike it against his skin. He remembers the clothes iron that sits in the small closet by the door. He wonders how it would feel to press his hand against it while it was hot. He wonders how it would feel to burn. Leo thinks then, he would have been better off letting the smoke choke him that day in his childhood home. Perhaps both Leo and Tara would be better off burning, freed from the pain of life. They wouldn't be alone then. They wouldn't be separated then. Leo stares at the match. The scent of lavender tickles his nose as a breeze drifts in through the small vent above his head. He twists the match in his fingertips.

Fire. Lavender. Tara. Better off burning

———

You sit with Riki as the makeup artists prep him for the time-skip scene. You're holding his hand delicately and his warm gaze darts over your face as the makeup artists darken the shadows under his eyes until they're noticeable rings of darkness. You watch as they define his cheekbones and nose then the stubble he'd grown out the past two days. By the time they're done he looks years older and worn out. Just as intended. He licks his lips and they shine. You can tell by the look on his face that he's about to ask you something.

"What happened earlier?"

You can't meet his gaze. He looks so different without the youthful shine in his cheeks. He looks so empty.

"I got scared."

"You never get scared."

"Not like that." You're forced to look up. Those eyes. Those soulful eyes. So beautiful and so familiar. "I saw you cry and I got so scared I couldn't breathe."

Riki takes in a sharp breath and squeezes your hand gently. His features soften and even through he makeup he suddenly looks the same as he always does. Soft pink lips, soft pink cheeks and dark beautiful eyes. "Why?"

"It was because of me." You whisper. "Bu-but it was just the story so..." You shake, slightly embarrassed by the emotions you spill. That feeling shifts when he pulls you into a hug, chin pressed into your shoulder. He doesn't seem to know what to say to convey his feelings, but the hug is enough or you to know.

———

[five years later]

"It's getting worse, Leo, I can't spend every waking moment worrying about you. I know you know how it feels to worry." The woman slumps against his desk. Leo stares up at her with bloodshot eyes, "No, baby..." He mumbles. She furrows her eyebrows, "Please help me out here, Leo. Do you even love me anymore? Do you know who I am, Leo? You can't just crumble away like this. You have to keep going, honey."

Leo's eyes gleam with some sort of grief. A strange sheen like he's not fully taking in her words, "No, baby, I love you."

"Then, please! For my sake. Help yourself and let me help you get better." She takes his hands, "Stop...stop trying to burn yourself. Stop the obsession with that missing girl. Visit your doctor sometimes. Call your parents once in a while, will you?" She pleads. Leo shakes her hands off, "No, no, my mother hates me. My father hates me. She's important, baby."

"She's gone!"

"She's not."

"Tell me then, Leo, tell me. Who is she?"

Leo stares up at her from his chair, hands skimming over the charred newspaper articles that cover his desk. "M-m-my...." His voice warbles and his head dips. "Best friend."