Et Itur Ad Astra

Side B: Blue Hour, Track 1

Winter 1999, 31 December, Junior Year

"Five! Four! Three! Two! One! Happy New Year!" The room erupted in shouts and hoots of joy as the students bounced up, excitement ratcheting sky high. There was a fizzling sound as someone cracked open a bottle of frothing cider, which spilled over followed by shrieks and peals of laughter. Tsukito sat back, grinning. Meanwhile, Sage and Mitsuki paid no heed to the din within the classroom, instead peeking out the window. After a good few minutes, the noise having died down, Mitsuki cheerfully exclaimed, "Hooray! We're not dead!" and flopped down on the floor, spread-eagled, Sage lying down with her head on Mitsuki's stomach. Tsukito eyed Mitsuki with disgust.

"You idiot. I told you the apocalypse wasn't coming. There have already been 21 centuries before this. What makes you think this'll be the last, huh?"

"You're the idiot!" shot back Sage, in fierce defense of her viewpoint. "Everyone believes it. Look how happy they all are! It's such a blessing to be alive!" She motioned outside the classroom. Outside, the other classes were all still having their mini parties, whooping and yelling with muffled 'hurrah!'s in joy. Mitsuki nodded, clearly reinforcing Sage's point.

Tsukito merely rolled his eyes and put his hands up in surrender. "Whatever." He directed his attention back into the room, where Chandler and Maggie sat canoodling, and grimaced as if he'd just witnessed some heinous crime. Which, considering how close to brothers and sisters all of them in Class Ten were, might just have occurred before his very eyes. Tsukito turned away in distaste, wishing to bleach his eyes clean.

Then his gaze landed on Mitsuki. He wanted to blush, but he saw her stroking Sage's hair as she lay in her lap. Immediately, the urge to blush fell away like a dead leaf off a withering plant. "So gay," he uttered, one of his catchphrases that had become common due to Mitsuki's uncanny penchant for skinship. Mitsuki rolled her eyes.

"You're so lame," she retorted, though it wasn't much of a retort. "Look at how stupid you are, then look at how serious other people are being." She flung out her arm in the general direction of Clarie and Eugene, who sat engaged in deep talk.

In the corner, Eugene and Clarie sat discussing their futures. Clarie in particular had a knack for appearing less anxious than she felt. Which in this case was not helping much, she felt. Ever since he'd impressed her thoroughly with his swift answers at the maths competition back in freshman year, Clarie who excelled in mathematics looked for Eugene as a partner for every single project. She didn't like to put it that way, but when it came down to it, Eugene was the only one who measured up to her standard.

And he didn't even study.

Clarie knew from the beginning that Eugene Jung had a gift. He was frustratingly good at mathematics, and wrapped his head around complicated concepts at the speed of light. She wasn't frustrated because he was good at it. But it was because of how effortless he made it all seem.

Which was why she found it hard to pay attention to Eugene - not something that usually happened for Clarie - as he told her that he wanted to start work immediately after graduation of senior year, and enter barista school. He wanted to learn. To be a barista. While he was solving equations she couldn't wrap her head around for days in a matter of hours.

"But... why?" She honestly did not understand. He spoke of it with drive, with purpose. He sounded like it was his lifelong dream to become a barista. And when he spoke, she noticed how his eyes darkened and became edged with a steely glint. Determination, and... she would have called it sorrow had she not seen an entire maelstrom of emotions in his eyes.

His voice was gravelly as he said, "For the same reason you call me that."

"Eugene?" she said, her trembling voice close to a whisper. It came out as a half question, half utterance. "Is everything okay?"

For a moment he almost seemed to drift off. His eyes were sad as he gazed into hers and whispered, "You have a twin, don't you?" Clarie was struck by the hollowness of his forlorn gaze. But it lasted only a moment, like breath misting a window pane, and dissolved in a matter of seconds. He cleared his throat. "Yes. Sorry."

She didn't know why he wanted to become a barista. Part of her suspected that he was merely throwing her off due to her being an unwanted annoyance in persuading him to stay in school. She herself didn't know why she was doing this either. Perhaps it was because she didn't want to see such talent go to waste. Perhaps it was because she didn't want to let such a valuable partner go. Perhaps it was him that she didn't want to let go of.

"There's no use," he was saying, as she tuned back into the frequency of his deliberate speech. "I've made up my mind. I... need to do this." he looked resolute. There was no shaking him now. Clarie sighed.

"All right, but... consider, won't you?" For me? she wanted to add, but knew it would make no difference. She simply hugged her knees and rearranged her rumpled skirt as she retreated back into her shell.

What had he meant? she wondered as her eyes followed Sage, who was prancing about the room in merriment. He'd sounded... lost, wistful. He'd sounded like he was missing something. Someone.

He sounded like a poet who had lost his muse. Clarie herself knew that Eugene Jung was no poet, but she wished she could reach into his mind and wrap the thorny briars in knit mittens. He seemed so... pained. Simply because she had a good heart, it hurt thinking about it, as she would have felt for anyone else.

She made a resolution to find out more about the twin business and get into the mind behind that sad smile of his. No matter what it took.