I deserve an award, to be honest. Don't get me wrong, I've earned many rewards for many different accomplishments, but this time, I think I deserve one for something people forget is an accomplishment. That, of course, would be the medal for the most work hours in a year- scratch that, I deserve two awards: one for the former, and another for the least healthy sleep schedule in the world.

"Chief Director Kamisato," the one employee left in the building calls.

"Yes?" I respond, trying to look put together as I sit behind my desk.

"Sorry for the intrusion but the building closed two hours ago, it's 2AM," the janitor fidgets. "We're cleaning the building now."

"I guess I should be going home, then," I sigh, standing up and shutting the laptop on my desk.

I swiftly, with practiced motion, pack up my laptop, notebooks, three phones (personal, business, business for people I don't like), pens, and finally my stack of papers into my briefcase, struggling to clasp it shut.

I look back up at the janitor, who is still standing in the doorway with a mop in hand, and smile fakely.

"Thank you for your contribution to the company," I nod as I pass, heading out of my office.

That's when the fatigue hits me. I haven't slept in two days, and the coffee from two hours ago was wearing off, so it's catching up with me. At this point, I'm near stumbling towards the elevator, knowing I am in such a state that the stairs may prove a threat.

Once I finally leave the building, I walk to the station on auto-pilot, my eyes half-closed. Usually at this point I would have taken another few cups of coffee; but seeing that all of the cafés are closed and I have none left in my spare designated coffee thermos, I'm left defenseless.

I manage to board the bus, the only one that runs this late at night, and plop into my seat so hard it hurts; I don't mind though, because I need to rest. The moment the bus starts moving, I'm already asleep in the uncomfortable plastic seat.

Luckily, the bus driver knew me well enough to warn me that it was my stop, able to wake me up before they drive along down the route out into the countryside. I thank him profusely before leaving, looking up at my tall penthouse building. Another elevator later, I'm collapsed in my bed, craving nothing but sleep.

—

I'm awoken at 5AM by a phone call. Seeing the caller, I respond immediately, not even trying to hide the grogginess in my voice.

"Remember you have to come to the business conference tonight, no backing out," Ayaka says the moment he picks up.

"Yes, hello sister dearest, I am doing amazing this morning, how are you?" I grumble.

"Shut up," Ayaka mutters fondly.

I can pick up the distant sounds of a busy street sending feedback through Ayaka's phone; it sounds as if Ayaka is walking through the city right now.

"Running a business is hard, you should come back," Ayaka mentions.

"You know, you're the one who asked to run it," I chuckle, rolling over in my bed. "Plus, being mayor pays more. And brings more political power to the business."

"I know, I know," Ayaka sighs, a flurry of honking sounds along with her voice. "Hey, you're mayor, think you could make traffic better? Us pedestrians get caught up in it too, you know."

"I can ask the transportation department to demolish the sidewalks and add another lane for cars?" I joke.

"Your attitude in the mornings is refreshing, I have to say. If only you were this funny in real life," Ayaka laughs.

"This is real life?" I question.

"You know what I mean. Anyway, gotta go. Come tonight and DON'T ditch me! You're still part of the business in spirit! And I need emotional support, you know how many 'but this specific young rich man is just perfect for you's I'm going to hear," Ayaka reminds.

"Yes, yes," I yawn. "Good luck with that deal."

"Sure, sure," Ayaka hangs up.

I put my phone on the bedside table, rolling to stuff my face in my pillow. Three hours of sleep does that to you.

—

I meet my sister at 9PM, just outside of a well-known venue typically rented out by rich companies to host dances. This is just the case now, as well: Ayaka and the leader of one of their rival businesses, Tenryou Inc., are meeting for a business deal and cease-fire surrounding recent competition between their social media standings.

Ayaka and Sara were to meet in a small meeting area in the back of the venue, then celebrate with the rest of the guests. I was requested to come as emotional support as well as political, even though Ayaka didn't specify the latter point, I know it is true. My sister is smart enough to use my political standing to help coerce others into trusting our business.

"Kujou Sara, pleasure to meet you again," Ayaka greets, sitting across from the taller woman.

"Kamisato Ayaka, Kamisato Ayato, an honor. May I introduce my friend here, Shikanoin Heizou," Kujou Sara nods at her friend.

"Hello there, Kamisato Ayaka and Ayato," Heizou waves.

"He is only here to take notes; a secretary of sorts, one could say," Sara smiles professionally.

"Well, it is also a pleasure to meet you, Shikanoin Heizou," Ayaka acknowledges.

"And a blessing to see you both, Kujou Sara, Shikanoin Heizou," I say my part as well.

Thus, it all beings. We talk about an alliance of sorts, and I am paying my best attention, of course. I feel partial to the company that I had once run, so I do my best to support it in every way. In addition to this, knowing as much information as possible is crucial to being mayor, so it is beneficial in many ways.

After striking a deal, it is time to disperse into the crowd and enjoy the open bar. I wander around with my sister, warding off all of the desperate rich mothers and fathers introducing their sons to her with a deathglare.

Once Ayaka ran off to talk with her friend, Naganohara Yoimiya, a local business owner who has become a great ally to the company in advocating against their 'rich, posh, cold' stereotypes, I decide to leave. Unfortunately, fate won't prevent me.

"Leaving so early? It's only eleven," Shikanoin Heizou grins. "Care for a dance?"

"I have important business at home," I say, a bit uncomfortable at Heizou's request.

"Come on, one dance?" Heizou asks.

"I apologize but-" I don't know how to word this. "Dancing with someone of the same gender at an event such as this wouldn't be appropriate."

"Afraid to show a little homo?" Heizou nudges my arm playfully. "Hey, nothing wrong with that, I get the caution."

"I must be leaving," I push past him, awkwardly catching the eyes of a few people.

If there's one thing that puts me off, it's people mentioning romance, and especially of the homosexual sort. I once had a crush on a young boy my age, but my father swooped in and told me that in this day, that would ruin my reputation. Thus, I pushed him away, and we haven't talked ever since. I have convinced myself out of my homosexuality.

As I walk, I realize that it's half an hour before midnight, and I haven't slept in a while. Once again, just like the night before, I feel my eyes dropping as I walk. I reach the bus, trolly, whatever you call it, and pay the driver as I sit down.

I realize that the normal driver I've become accustomed to is not present, and a substitute is in his place. I sigh; it seems everything is moving on, these days. I'm mayor, Ayaka's head of business, the world is following new ideals and perspectives, and people were openly asking him to dance despite gender.

Tired, I fall asleep in my chair, dreaming of accepting the dance, and seeing the critical newspaper articles the next morning.

—

"Sir, excuse me," a voice interrupts my nap.

I try to elegantly sit up, but end up yawning and not being able to support my weight from the fatigue. Why had that nap felt so long?

"Sorry," I stand. "Late night."

The driver smiles in understanding, moving out of the way so I can hop off of the empty bus. It was incredibly dark out, but the moment I stepped out the door and the bus drove away, I knew something is wrong. Is it that foggy and dark, or is there really no skyscraper in front of me?

I listen as the bus drives away, and instead of the usually distant honking, clanking of construction, flapping of flags, and footsteps of people, I hear the buzz of insects and croaking of frogs, a distant dog barking in the dead of night as well.

Where am I? I contemplate, squinting up at the sign next to the poorly illuminated bus stop. Byakko fields. 68 miles to Inazuma City, 87 miles to Konda village, 54 miles to Chinju national park, 112 miles to Kamisato estate museum it reads, and my heart drops. The substitute bus driver hadn't known what stop I usually get off at, and had just driven to the end of the route.

He was in the complete middle of nowhere. Narukami island was ginormous, large enough to host over 10 million people populating many cities and countrysides. It was no wonder the closest mapped location was 54 miles away.

According to random knowledge I had acquired from Ayaka's spontaneous facts, it took the average male a full day to walk 20 miles. This was not going to end well. Not knowing what to do, I begin walking in the direction of Inazuma City. It is one of the closest locations, and I hope that it is more populated than the national park.

After half an hour, I'm ready to give up. I'm not in the best shape in addition to being completely exhausted- what am I supposed to do but take a rest on the side of the road? Except, that's when I hear the angelic sound of human existence.

The rickety wheels of a cart and clomping of a horse's hooves spark energy into my heart. Jumping to my feet, I follow the path forward until I can see, in the darkness, a cute picturesque wooden cart with a beautiful ginger stallion pulling it along at a slow, leisurely pace. Strange for past midnight in the countryside, but I'll take it.

"Hello?" I call, nearing the cart.

I hear a sound resembling a book dropping hard onto wood and suddenly a man's head pops out of the back of the cart. A dog starts barking aggressively, and it sounds like it's coming from the cart.

"Taroumaru, hush! Heel," the blond man orders, holding on tight to the collar of a small dog wearing a hat. "Kōjin, heed!"

The horse suddenly stopped walking, and the dog shut up. The boy leapt from the cart, vaulting over the edge.

"Sorry, my dog doesn't like strangers," he rubs the back of his neck as he approaches me, holding out a flashlight. "At least my horse actually listens."

"That's fine," I smile, observing him.

He's wearing a basic outfit; patched black jeans, tall brown boots, loosely-laced, and a hoodie with a flannel over it.

"Why are you out so late?" he cocks his head at me.

"Fell asleep on the bus," I laugh awkwardly. "You?"

"Oh, coming back from the farmer's market, that's all," he shrugged. "Some friends invited me to an after party at the bar so I was out late. My name's Thoma, by the way! Local tomato, potato, and corn farmer, who specializes in babysitting and house cleaning in the winter months."

"Well, I'm Kamisato Ayato. Local mayor of Inazuma City, and I specialize in mayoring in the winter months," I joke, trying to sound approachable so he'll take mercy when I ask him the following question. "Is it okay if you could take me to the nearest inn?"

"Uh, there aren't any," Thoma says. "People don't stay out in the country often enough; they just drive right through. I could drive you to my house, though. I have a spare room."

I contemplate it for a bit. There aren't many other options, but staying with a stranger who likely owns a gun wouldn't be ideal. Then again, a man who has such a cute obedient dog and loyal horse must be nice, right?

I'd learned to judge a man on how others act around him a while back, and his horse and dog look quite well-fed and happy (if they counted as 'others').

"Sure, that would actually be amazing," I respond after a moment.

Thoma smiles and offers me his hand, to which I accept. He pulls me over to the cart and then vaults into it, his his hand still holding onto mine to pull me up as well.

"Kōjin, trot," Thoma calls out to his horse, who neighs and starts trotting forward.

I notice the lack of a whip, or any reins at all for that matter. How did he manage to train a horse to be as obedient as a dog? Speaking of which, Taroumaru keeps staring at me, his tongue sticking out slightly.

"So, fell asleep on the bus, eh? And mayor of the most populated city in the country?" Thoma starts up conversation. "Quite busy, then?"

"Definitely," I sigh, finding it relaxing to talk with such a casual person.

"How much?" Thoma questions.

"Three hours of sleep over the past 48 plus hours," I mention.

"Holy shit," Thoma smiles; not in the way everyone does, in a genuine way, like when I treat Ayaka to a donut. "And I can't function after seven hours."

"Seven hours of straight sleep?" I genuinely feel my eyes widen.

"Yeah, too little," Thoma waves it off. "I need a good nine hours to work well out on the fields."

The mention of physical work entices me to observe Thoma more; focusing on his muscles. They're well-developed, large biceps, prominent four-pack. Not what all the actors on TV have, but a more humble, hardworking fit that makes me feel different. This man clearly works hard, and not in the 12-hours-a-day-in-the-gym hard, but in a modest-every-day-work way.

Thoma blushes and looks away, noticing as my gaze drifts over him as he sits criss-crossed on a thin picnic blanket covering the splintering wooden cart.

"A-anyway, what do you do, as mayor?" Thoma glances back over.

I end up spilling a lot about my personal life. It is comforting knowing that this man probably won't use everything I say to blackmail me, or expose me on social media to the ways of cancel culture. I openly tell Thoma about how the people protest for what they want, but to give them that, I have to sacrifice other things, which leads to more protests (this is the current main issue in my career).

I stop myself after a five minute rant, realizing that I haven't talked informally for so long in such a long time that it felt really good to be normal again. Thoma, meanwhile, seems to be paying full attention, and is confused when I stop.

"So to sum it up; you're super overwhelmed, have tons of work, social crises, and political issues, but you can't tell anyone because you'll be ruined on social media?" Thoma asks.

"Yeah," I sigh.

"So this is why my dad insisted the humble farming life was the best way to live," Thoma mutters. "I don't even have a single social media app."

I laugh, trying to imagine a life of that kind. If only the things I do only influence those who witness it; that would be amazing. I'm sure there's somebody out there writing a million articles about how I'm homophobic because I rejected Heizou's dance.

"What's with that face?" Thoma asks me.

"Huh?" I glance over.

"It's like a mixture of worried, embarrassed, and contemplating suicide," Thoma chuckles.

"Ah- yes, well, I am all of those right now," I smile. "I just had some small thing happen earlier that I know will spiral into something bigger. I didn't even realize how it might affect me at the time."

"What happened?" Thoma probes.

"Well, uh..." I'm not exactly sure if the stereotypes are true about countrymen being homophobic are true. "I rejected a dance."

"And...?" Thoma prompts.

I sigh as the cart bumps along the rocky, dusty country road, glancing at Taroumaru, who had fallen asleep with his head resting on Thoma's lap.

"I'm only saying this because we'll probably never meet again, but I used to be homosexual. I've moved on and all, but now I think some people believe me to come off as homophobic," I confess, breathing deeply.

"What do you mean you 'used to be'?" Thoma laughs. "You don't just get rid of the gay like that!"

"But I did," I reason. "I convinced myself-"

Thoma suddenly is leaning forward, displacing the napping Taroumaru who huffs in protest. He reaches towards me and gently touches my face, smiling sweetly. I feel heat overwhelm me, insects crawl beneath my skin, and butterflies dance around inside of me. He runs his fingers over my cheekbone, and uses his other hand to push my hair behind my ear.

"See, it doesn't go away," Thoma leans away and grins. "You're blushing and speechless."

"N-no, I'm not," I stutter. I stutter? I've never stuttered.

Thoma laughs cutely, hiding his face behind his gloved hand. He was also blushing.

"I don't know about your world, but in mine, you can be whoever you want," Thoma chuckles. "And being gay is just part of that. You don't get rid of romantic feelings; they're always there. It's just cruel to deny it."

I contemplate over those words. Am I really still homosexual? I mean, Thoma did just prove it. But wouldn't anyone blush when a cute stranger with a perfectly-maintained haircut, amazing body, well-crafted muscles, adorable fashion sense, and a humble, sweet, enticing personality touches their face? Shit, that sentence in itself was really gay, but no homo.

"Anyway. I know that doesn't solve your problem, but hopefully it makes you realize some things. The world is changing, I don't know if you've noticed, but representation of this sort is everywhere. I'm sure you hiding yourself from the world to protect your political position or whatever was important a while ago, but didn't our president come out as lesbian and literally get re-elected?" Thoma reasons. "Maybe express that you weren't being homophobic by rejecting the dance, and that you support the community? Just a suggestion."

That is actually a really valid point.

Suddenly, the cart comes to a halt, and I look up past Thoma. A large red barn accompanied by an adorable farmhouse sit before him. Thoma hops out of the cart and approaches his horse, Kōjin, and frees him from the cart.

"Feel free to head inside and wait in the living room," Thoma calls.

I nod, carefully sliding over the edge of the wood wall around the structure and walk across the dirt path towards the two-story house with a large, beautiful porch. Unfortunately, the white paint coating the intricate old structure is rotting, and the railing that accompanied the stairs is falling apart.

As I enter, I see that the inside is in splendid condition. The walls are painted perfectly, there is no water leaking anywhere, and not a speck of dust coats the floor. Maybe maintaining the outside of the house wasn't Thoma's specialty?

I turn to my left and see a large couch facing a fireplace. I decide that must be the living room and sit down, observing the wall covered in books to my left and the large window showing the pitch black fields beside the fireplace.

Twenty minutes later, Thoma finally enters. I had been scrolling through my phone, trying to find mentions of the Heizou thing, when he calls to me.

"I can show you to your room now, mayor," Thoma bows politely, hiding a smile.

"Why, an honor it would be to have you accompanying me, handsome sir," I find myself joking along with him.

"Compared to you, I'd say I'm nothing short of moderately pretty," Thoma grins, knowing he just made me blush.

"Don't self-deprecate," I say. "I believe it's obvious who steals the spotlight here."

"Embracing the gay, I see? Was my speech that good?" Thoma laughs as he leads me up some squeaky stairs.

"I can admire someone's looks without being gay," I reason, knowing in my heart I was just making excuses.

"Sure," Thoma shakes his head as they reach the top of the stairs.

He leads me to a well-kept room off to the side of a bathroom along a long hallway with a window at the end. Inside, a made bed occupies the corner, while a dresser, carpet, lamp, fan, closet, and nightstand fill the rest of the space.

"I can drive you home tomorrow in my pickup, if you want?" Thoma asks suddenly.

"Oh- that would be splendid," I am surprised by his genuine sweetness.

"'That would be splendid' sounds like an old man ordering wine," Thoma mocks.

"Sure, whatever," I smile.

"Try to loosen up a little. Representatives are humans too, you know, and the people love it when they prove that fact sometimes," Thoma insists.

"And you'd know...?" I ask.

"I'm high up in the local farmer's union," Thoma explains. "I found my way there when I expressed relatable, every-day issues that everyone wants fixed. Like instead of focusing on how we should get other countries to accept more trade, we should fix prices and the economy in our own country first. Farmers suffer from being underpaid despite the amoun- sorry, I'm ranting."

"No, no, I think that's important," I say. "I'll have to think more about farmers next time I'm reorganizing economic issues."

"R-really? You'd do that?" Thoma's smile was genuine and excited. "Because if prices could be more reasonable, I would be able to better take care of my house. This thing's getting old, you see, and the structure is weak- I might be able to live here longer without it collapsing on me!"

I am thoroughly surprised that that is a genuine concern of Thoma's.

—

The next day, I find myself chatting from the passenger seat of Thoma's pickup. We've talked the whole way about tons of issues, and I feel incredibly at ease around the farmer. He's so casual yet well-informed; but he doesn't push information in my face. It's refreshing.

"Woah, this is your building?!" Thoma gasps as he finally finds a spot to park along the road at 5AM.

"Yeah. Huge, modern, clean, white, and terribly lonely," I smile sadly. "Anyway, I'll be off. Thank you for everything, and I promise that I'll think about farmers and their issues more often. Have a good life."

"Yes, yes, have a good life, too," Thoma then pauses. "Wait!"

He grabs my wrist just as I am leaving the vehicle, one foot on the pavement.

"It was really nice meeting you," Thoma says with sincerity, his eyes searching mine.

"You too. You changed me, I think," I say, rather cringy, but factual.

"Same," Thoma rubs a thumb over the back of my hand.

With a blush, he quickly releases me, and turns back towards the wheel. I smile, blushing as well, and turn towards my penthouse building, which looks as posh and perfect as ever.

—

Thoma has been on my mind recently. It's been four months, and I feel deteriorated by work. It turns out the Shikanoin incident did indeed get out, and now I'm being threatened to be canceled for it. Tonight, I plan to make an announcement to show my support for the LGBTQ community, much to Ayaka's surprise. She didn't even know I knew what homosexual meant.

I spent the last few weeks clearing up some farmer-related things. After Thoma brought the issue to my mind, I've been advocating for not only farmers, ranchers, and crop-growers of all sorts; but also the poor. This sudden change in focus has raised many questions.

So, after explaining how I suddenly went on a walk to clear my mind (again, I listened to Thoma's advice about sounding more human and relatable. I mentioned my mind getting cluttered and overwhelmed, which surprised many and raised my support levels. Thanks again, Thoma) and ended up near Byakko, the prefecture known for farms and fields, and realized that people matter outside of the cities as well.

It's nearing elections again, and I decided to finally clear the speculation around homophobia to entice the people for a re-election.

"I'm proud of you, you know," Ayaka says over the phone.

"Thanks...?" I am suspicious of her sudden behavior.

"I thought you were hopelessly lost and going to be stiff and elitist forever! It seems like you had some kind of awakening," Ayaka laughs.

"Yeah- kind of," I blush.

Of the gay kind, I think.

"Anyway, you're on in an hour, so get your ass ready! And I'll be out with Yoimiya so I don't know if I'll be able to make it or not," Ayaka continues on.

"Alright, thanks for thinking to call me," I smile into the phone, watching myself in the mirror.

We both say goodbye and hang up. I sigh as I stare at myself, turning around and adjusting my tie. I'm not very confident, to be honest. I've stated before that the thing that makes me most uncomfortable was romance, especially when it involves homosexuality; so I feel kind of itchy inside, nervous more so than I've been for a while.

Suddenly, my phone gets a call. I sigh, knowing it's Ayaka saying she forgot to ask for his spare hair ties or something.

"Yes?" I ask the moment I pick up.

"Ayato?" a familiar voice sounds.

"...Thoma?" I question, my heart quickening.

"Hi! Sorry, it's been so long and stuff, but I just found your phone number on your website and knew you were making an announcement tonight. I wanted to wish you good luck; I predicted you would be nervous, even though you usually aren't," Thoma's voice is cheerful and comforting.

Wow, he predicted exactly right.

"Remember what I said: the world is changing. We just re-elected a lesbian woman as president of our nation, after she was elected governor of the island twice. People aren't as worried about hiding homosexuality; it's about the fact that people discriminate against it. I mean, there'll always be exceptions, but discrimination is what causes the fear of coming out in the first place, right? So I think what you're doing is amazing. By showing your support, you're going to appeal to a whole new demographic! Then again, I'm just a farmer, but I believe this to be true," Thoma finishes.

"You aren't just a farmer, Thoma," I say, feeling emotion bubble up in my chest.

"Aw, thanks," Thoma chuckles on the other end, his laugh rough through the speaker. "Hey, I know we kind of both accepted the fact that we'd never meet again, but if you ever want to come visit, find me at the farmer's market, kay?"

"Sure, sounds great. Perfect, actually," I feel kind of dizzy, for some reason. "I've been thinking about you."

Why did I just say that?

"Same," Thoma's grin can be heard through the phone. "Your hands are soft."

I feel a blush creep up my cheeks. I haven't seen Thoma, or made contact with him, for four months. Why does he still manage to fluster me?

"Yours aren't," I manage to say.

"Ruined the moment," Thoma sighs playfully. "Anyway, stop by some time?"

"I'll come sooner than you think," I smile lightly.

"Ominous, but sexy, so I'll take it," Thoma replies.

The blush he'd previously lagged me with rose to my ears, and the room was suddenly way too hot. I walk over to the window and open it, letting the breeze cool me down.

"D-did you just open a window?" Thoma laughs insanely from the other side. "I can see it: you're alone, blushing in your room, so despera-"

"Shut up!" I can't help but feel laughter coming on as well.

Thoma's laughter heightens, blocking all the other sounds, like chickens, dog barks, and cow moos, coming from the phone. Suddenly, I find myself laughing more than I have in years. Alone, on the phone with a boy I met solely once: why was he so helplessly infatuated with this man? It must've been his inexplicable charms and generosity. Not to mention humor.

"You're laugh is perfection in itself," Thoma manages to say through giggles. "Oh, god, I'd pay to hear that every day."

"Bold, aren't you?" I chuckle, gazing out the window as I talk, watching the cars below.

"The country taught me that finding people you like is rare, and you've gotta progress and hang on to relationships quickly to keep them," Thoma explains, his voice still bright from laughter.

"The city taught me the same, except add the fact that enemies are common, and you've got to be cold to everyone you meet to seem more intimidating before they decide to hate you," I respond.

"You weren't cold to me," Thoma mentions.

"I was in dire need of assistance," I reason.

"Again, sounding like an old man," Thoma's voice comes through. "I've gotta teach ya tha' modern language, boy."

"Haha," I roll my eyes at his mock country accent.

"Well, I gotta go now," Thoma says. "The tomatoes are calling to me."

"I wasn't aware vegetables could talk?" I ask.

"Tomatoes are fruits, dumbass," Thoma laughs.

"Woah! Watch your profanity," I find myself laughing again.

I feel so incredibly different around Thoma.

"Kamisato Ayato, are you ready for your makeup?" a voice calls through his door.

"Bye, Thoma, good luck with your talkative tomatoes," I say quickly.

"Adios, amigo," Thoma grins, hanging up.

"Come in!" I call immediately after.

A crew of three people enter my room. Or, you could call it my second room, because this is the one where people come to do my makeup and hair, but I don't actually use the bed.

The crew gets to work, and within 20 minutes, I'm done. Men don't usually use much makeup, anyway, when they go on television, so I predicted it would be fast. Soon after, I follow the crew to another one of my rooms: my office. Here, I'd allowed a few news stations to set up. I find it easier to have conferences and speeches in my house: less public, more space, and doesn't take money to rent.

"You're on in five minutes," they say to me.

I quickly sit down in my office chair, noticing how my desk had been cleared of all items but an aesthetic pencil container I don't remember owning. After waiting, I aired live, and began explaining my support to the community.

It is huge, especially for the person who is rumored to be homophobic and spent most of his life in an elitist, secluded area of town with no friends.

I finish up after about half an hour, and then immediately I run over to my door. During the speech, I decided that I wanted to visit Thoma. And his dog, horse, tomatoes, potatoes, and corn. I don't know why, but the thought kept gnawing at me, and I gave in.

"Where are you off to?" one of the reporters asks.

"I will be visiting a friend at their residence," I say, not noticing the camera pointed at me.

"Didn't know you had friends?" another reporter says.

I don't know why, but I don't contemplate the fact that reporters would keep on reporting after the conference is over.

"To put it simply, this one is special," I find myself smiling as I tie the laces to my informal boots.

"How so?" a reporter grins, knowing they're actually getting good stuff.

"He treats me like a human, is naturally generous, doesn't want to make an enemy of me: I love that about him," I pause, realizing I slipped into my informal way of talking. "My apologies, I did not mean to speak so-"

Wait, why are they asking me these things like they're interviewing me. Suspicious, I look at the reporters, and my eyes widen at all of the cameras turned my way.

"I did not give you permission to continue filming after the shoot," I grow embarrassed.

"Ah, sorry," one of the reporters, grinning, turns their camera off.

The others follow suit, but they're all distracted going over their material and contemplating the news articles they could write. The competitiveness was already in the air as two of them took out their phones and texted journalists, managers, and colleagues.

You know what? Reputation be damned, I've gotta go see Thoma, I think, huffing and rushing out my door. I need to get my mind off of my public image for a while: an idea that has become more important to me after traveling accidentally to the countryside.

I hop on the bus the moment I reach the bus stop, which took three minutes of full-on sprinting. I'm panting when I manage to catch the bus, hoping on just before the doors close. I thank the archons that it hadn't left behind schedule like it normally did.

I realize, while I'm sitting on the bus surrounded by people, that this course of action was rather random. Maybe I'm just so desperate for an escape from my world that I find myself needing Thoma's?

Either way, now I'm starting to realize this idea may be spontaneous. Shit, what about Thoma? He probably doesn't expect me to arrive this early. No, no. I need to get away from worrying for a while and push past everything: just like I did the reporters in my apartment.

I just need to focus on seeing Thoma again.

—

There he is. Smiling brightly and innocently at a woman his age, who is purchasing a large amount of baby tomato plants that Thoma is selling amongst his actual tomatoes. The woman calls out to a little boy who is drooling at the sight of one of Thoma's most plump tomatoes, who droops his head and follows his mother as Thoma lets out unbridled laughter.

Thoma looks away from the woman and out forward across the lane, and freezes. I catch his beautiful olive-green eyes, dimmed by the shadow of the canopy over his stall. After a moment, he starts to smile. I take that as a good sign and wander over to him.

"Hi there, stranger," Thoma greets.

I miss that voice, I find myself thinking- but how had I come to miss his voice even if I'd only known him for a day? Was he that easy to fall in love?

I feel my face break out into a smile; a genuine one that hadn't shown since the last time we met. Months of politics and constant debates against enemies was all I had done up until now. I realize that I should have taken a break sooner.

The day of utter generosity, kindness, and acceptance that Thoma had offered me resurfaces in my mind; I haven't had anyone be so... human with me in way too long. Now I am starting to desire a day like that again. Just me and Thoma. But I wonder if he feels the same?

I walk close up to his stand and smile at him, and he blushes while smiling back.

"Want to help me sell tomatoes? I'm done in an hour," Thoma breaks the silence.

"I'd love nothing more than to sell vegetables with you," and I actually mean it.

"Fruits," Thoma insists.

"Sure," I roll my eyes.

For the next hour, Thoma gets a shit ton of customers. I can see how surprised he is when basically all of the small town girls line up, giggling and looking over at me. I grin, finding it amusing as I hand them bags of tomatoes they'll probably never use.

Me and Thoma are a great team. I'm quick to ring up prices and argue against bargains, while Thoma's quiet nature would put him at letting customers buy pounds of the crop for half price, just because he didn't want to impose. Thusly, I save him money, while he expertly ties bags full of carefully picked and washed tomatoes.

I find myself appreciating and enjoying the simple life of a farmer, even if just for an hour.

Once we're done, I help Thoma load his wagon with the excess fruits and then hop up next to Thoma as he calls for Kōjin to trot along the path. We talk the entire ride to his house, only interrupted by people driving by in trucks, waving to Thoma. I can't help but feel incredibly relaxed; not regretting for a moment that I walked out on all of those reporters and probably did some miniscule thing that would ruin my entire career.

"Netflix and chill?" Thoma asks as we approach his house.

"You have Netflix out here?" I joke.

"No, we go to the theaters every weekend and watch silent films," Thoma rolls his eyes.

I chuckle, and he laughs, and Taroumaru's barks echo from the house as Thoma puts Kōjin and the wagon away. We meet up in the living room and decide to turn on the TV after talking for half an hour; and to my horror, it opens up to a news channel.

"Kamisato Ayato, unstable, gay, and probably going to ruin our city," the news reporter says.

"Type of bullshit?" Thoma asks, near laughter. "Are they serious?"

"Probably," I sigh. "Let's just watch-"

"Reports of him ranting off about some country boy he met flood newspapers, accompanied with the details of him pushing through reporters to escape his own house. What is happening in his personal life? Here, we have Kamisato Ayaka, addressing the issue," the news reporter carries on.

Thoma makes to change the channel, but I place my hand over his, stopping him. He looks at me curiously, but my eyes are on the TV. I need to know what Ayaka says.

"My brother, the mayor of Inazuma City, Kamisato Ayato, has indeed expressed unusual behavior lately," says Ayaka, sitting perfectly in an aesthetic dress. "But I must remind the people; he is a human too. If none of you have experienced a bad day, suffered from fatigue, overwork, or stress, then I am genuinely envious of you. The truth is, in this world of work, don't we all have days where we are a bit different, due to the aforementioned issues?"

I feel extremely grateful and proud of Ayaka at the moment.

"That's all, Thoma," I release my hand from him, allowing him to change the channel.

Thoma smiles at me and switches to HDMI 1, where he has some kind of old device that supports a lot of different apps, such as Netflix. He opens it up, and I can't help but laugh at his recently watched; Great British Baking show (he's on the last season), a few more baking shows, Avatar: the Last Airbender, and at the end of the line I can make out the cover for Walking Dead.

Thoma blushes at my laugh, quickly scrolling to the Most Popular section.

"No no go back," I insist. "Let's watch a baking show. I need something like that right now."

I glance over and notice his smile as he flips over to the Great British Baking show, going to the first episode and pressing play. He sets the remote down and leans back as I watch his every move before turning towards the TV.

—

It's midnight. We've finished the first season and are well into the next. Thoma strokes my hair as I lean against his shoulder, having scooted slowly all the way across the couch. I'm near sleep, but I can't seem to let myself drift off, especially with Thoma's breath on my head.

It's almost too perfect, to be honest. A day to let go and watch overly dramatic TV with a person I love- what more could I ask for? It's been a year since I've done anything close to this, and it feels like a dream.

Still, even though everything is perfect, I can feel dread in my chest. I can't ever seem to forget about the enemies I have in the city, and the constant fear of being criticized and canceled due to the tiniest of mistakes. The work overload I know is waiting for me at home plagues my mind; creating enough unrest that I can't manage to fully relax into Thoma.

"You look worried again," Thoma notes gently.

"Work," I mutter, closing my eyes.

"I mean, running off in the middle of the day while making gay comments about me is kind of just a little bit scandalous, so you should expect this stuff," Thoma says. "Hey, why don't you move out into the country with me?"

I snort playfully, dismissing the idea.

"I'm not joking. Dye your hair, change your name, and take up residence in my guest room forever," Thoma smiles sincerely.

"I can't look like a coward to the public. After the revolution not long ago, political leaders need to show support and appear strong or the people'll lose hope," I reason.

We sit in silence for a while longer, turning our attention back towards the television, where a baker just messed up a really complicated looking British tart. After a while, I fall asleep to Thoma's breathing and the overly dramatic music from the television.

I know I won't be able to escape my responsibilities, but at least for now I can find comfort and peace with Thoma and his perfect, simple life, dreaming of a fantasy where I wasn't born to rich celebrities, and wasn't pressured into politics.

Maybe one day I can run away with Thoma, this man I'm so connected to only after seeing twice, and open a British baking show in the middle of the country. For now, though, this moment is my only available fantasy; and I don't seem to mind that fact.