Lying on the floor of his room, Keisuke slowly exhaled the cloud of opaque smoke he was holding in his lungs. The grayish swirls spiraled up to the ceiling before gently disappearing in an almost hypnotic manner. Outside, the last rays of sunlight had long since faded, replaced by those of the moon. It was so bright that the young man could make out the outline of his arm, stretched out in front of him. His gaze lingered on his hand, then on the silver rings that adorned his fingers, and finally on the glowing tip of his blunt before locking onto it.

Normally, he never smoked in his bedroom. The smell of cold tobacco had always repulsed him to the core, something that even his bad little habits hadn't managed to change. Ironically, all the people he came into contact with - with the exception of his little sister - didn't seem to be bothered by the whiffs of smoke that flew constantly in their direction, while he himself did everything to avoid them. He never wore the same sweater twice, so much did he hate the fact that his clothes carried this scent, even the slightest bit of it. He couldn't help it. It was almost obsessive.

So, whatever the weather, Keisuke always went out in the evening to avoid filling his room with that disgusting scent. But at the moment, and perhaps because the cone swirling between his fingers didn't actually contain much tobacco, his mind was far too altered for his compulsive manners to reach him. He could have sat down on his wide-open windowsill, but his thoughts were too unclear, and his body far too anchored to the ground for him to feel able to do so. And even if he'd found the strength to drag himself up to his window, the slight draught circulating inwards would have dismissed all his efforts.

So he'd given up, as the glass beside him could attest. The little lemonade left in it already held the ashes of his previous blunt.

Music was playing through the headphones he wore. Calm and slow, the notes played were perfectly in tune with his current state. And so lulled, he would probably have fallen asleep if Hana's voice hadn't still kept him in the real world.

With the other earphone in her possession, the young woman softly hummed the phrases she knew, which amounted to almost all the music that had been playing for many minutes already. Her head resting a few centimeters from his, her voice sounded like a gentle melody. Soothing, even with the few false notes that escaped her. She had a beautiful voice. He was only discovering that now.

Every now and then, when she got the lyrics wrong, her crystalline laughter momentarily replaced her voice, and to hear her having fun over such a trivial thing was enough to remind him that she was drunk just as much as he was high. Earlier in the evening, they'd had not only the Lean he'd concocted, but also a bottle of some wine - he'd borrowed it from the expensive collection of his father, who hadn't been drinking for a few years. Hana sometimes inadvertently kicked the empty glass with her foot. It always ended up rolling back to her, and each time she let out another laugh. A laugh that Keisuke listened to with as much attention as her voice, if not more.

This sound was far too rare for him not to memorize every note.

—Hey, muttered the smoker wearily as he took another drag. Your music taste is depressing.

He heard her stir a little, and even without seeing her, he guessed her inquisitive gaze resting on his person.

—It's your playlist, Hana remarked, giggling.

Ah yes, that's right. He'd forgotten.

—Same thing, he retorted, exhaling deeply.

Silence.

—Hey, protested the ice skater. I'm not depressed.

—Whatever.

At the same moment, the bundle of ashes that had accumulated at the end of his blunt came loose without warning. As he held his arm above his head, the ash landed on his forehead and, in a burst of lucidity, he took it away with his other hand before he really felt the burn on his skin. He stopped himself from swearing aloud. Damn draught.

Slowly, Keisuke's eyelids rolled as if he were rolling his eyes, hoping that his lack of luck had gone unnoticed. But when he met the shining eyes of his companion, the amusement on her upside-down face confirmed his fears. She had been lying on her stomach, and thus supported on her elbows, she hadn't missed any of his clumsiness.

—You didn't see anything, he grumbled in bad faith.

He sighed, and Hana laughed even more. But before she could open her mouth to stir the pot, one of her favorite songs came on through the earphone. Her desire to sing took precedence over the jabs she was about to throw at him.

—I don't like anybody better than you, it's true.

Keisuke also knew the lyrics inside out. He'd listened to High Enough countless times during his evenings out and could never get tired of it. The song held no secrets for him. He had memorized every note, both those of the singer and those of the various musical instruments.

Yet at this moment, as the syllables of the chorus escaped Hana's mouth, it was as if he were rediscovering its meaning for the very first time.

His gaze intensely locked on hers, Keisuke was eager to capture every detail of the scene in his memory. He barely blinked. Even when the young woman settled astride his pelvis, he didn't blink. He could only see her, she had his undivided attention.

—I'm already high enough. You got me, you got me good.

Nothing went unnoticed : the delicate curve of her cheekbones under the moonlight. The intoxication floating in her charcoal eyes. The warmth of her body against his, then the warmth of her hands running over his throat. The shine of her rosy lips, curved into a slight, mischievous smile. That long lock of her hair that tickled him as she leaned forward. And finally, the hypnotic sound of her voice that had been ringing in his ear for many minutes, a whisper that was enough to drive him crazy.

—Don't try to give me cold water, I don't wanna sober up. All I see are tomorrows. Oh, the stars were made for us.

Was she even aware of the hold she currently had over him? She'd grabbed his joint, he hadn't even noticed.  Lean suited them pretty well, apparently.

—I'm already high enough, she whispered as the music came to an end. I only, I only got eyes for you.

Her last sentence had been muttered in a barely audible murmur, which then gave way to silence. The playlist had come to an end, but neither of them made the slightest move to restart it. The breath of one seemed to hang on the breath of the other as they both remained motionless, frozen like marble statues, far too lost in their own little bubble to be aware of the world around them.

Mind numbed by the influence, Hana found it difficult to think straight. Without considering the consequences of her actions, the young woman slowly placed her hand on her partner's temple and brushed away a lock of hair that was dancing on his face. Not anticipating for a moment what was about to happen, Keisuke let it happen until his forehead was completely exposed.

Only then did Hana's gaze turn away from his, and a gleam of curiosity that he didn't immediately grasp lit up the depths of her eyes. She didn't even seem to think for a moment before speaking up, uttering aloud the question that had been nagging at her for a little while.

—How did you get that scar? She asked in a low voice.

At the sound of these words, it was as if the imaginary bubble in which Keisuke found himself had just burst into a thousand pieces. The magic suddenly stopped, and the young man came to his senses as if he'd just woken up. Reality had brutally caught up with him, filling his head with memories he would have preferred to have never dig up.

His jaw contracted imperceptibly, and bitterness swelled in his throat. In one swift movement, Keisuke caught the young woman's wrist in his hand, drawing on what little self-control he had left not to squeeze too hard. It took all the effort in the world not to push away with too much violence the fingers that were tracing the discreet scar that was lost in the roots of his hair, and it took just as much effort not to let himself be consumed by the dull anger that was rumbling inside him.

When he'd burned himself with the ashes, Keisuke had involuntarily pushed back the strands of hair that continually hid the damn scar. Involuntarily, he had revealed the only visible vestige of a painful past. A past he had no desire to share, but now that she had caught a glimpse of it, it was too late.

Keisuke took a deep breath, but it wasn't enough to calm the rage drumming in his chest.

—Never again, he said bitingly.

Hana's slight smile vanished immediately, and she recoiled uncontrollably at the threatening storm rumbling in the young man's eyes. When she had first noticed the fine irregularity in his skin, whitened by the years, Hana had imagined several scenarios, each more comical than the last, to explain it. By bringing up the subject, she thought she'd stirred up a funny anecdote in him that would make them both laugh. A silly story, something funny.

Not for a second did Hana suspect that this scar contained such a sinister story that he would reject it so vigorously.

—I-I didn't mean to be rude, the skater stammered awkwardly at his defensiveness. I... I just...

Her voice died in her throat, her panicking mind having had the goodness to stop her in time, just before she would sink further into the quicksand. Unfortunately for her, the young man was perceptive enough to get to the bottom of her thought, and he didn't hesitate to finish her sentence for her.

—You just wanted to know, didn't you? Keisuke finished sharply.

Without warning, the young man put his hands on Hana's waist and pushed her aside. He sat down, staring at her with displeasure.

—You shouldn't, he said sharply. My life is none of your business.

—But....

—But what, Hana? He cut in abruptly.

She didn't retort, but he didn't need to in order to read the answer that floated in her eyes and hung from her lips. The mixture of confusion and regret that twisted her face spoke for itself.

Keisuke took his head in his hands. He couldn't help but feel a new wave of anger drumming in his chest. Not at the young woman, but at himself and his own negligence. After all these past experiences, he should have known that Hana would sooner or later show more interest in him than what was justified. He had only himself to blame for thinking that the opposite could happen. From the start, he'd relaxed too much in her presence.

"I want to get to know you," they all used to say. It was bullshit Keisuke didn't believe. He saw it as a vulgar ploy to pass off their curiosity as something more honorable.

Even Igarashi, whom he considered his best friend, had never had the honor of hearing about the scar's story in its entirety. They'd only talked about it briefly. At the time, Keisuke had told him just enough for him to grasp the reason for all those bandages, without ever going into details. And that was it. Since then, they had never ever again exchanged a single word on the subject.

And she thought she could question him so casually?

—Have you already forgotten our deal? Keisuke asked her in an icy voice.

His tone had become harsher than expected, but from the wide-eyed eyes now facing him, he knew that the message, at least, had got through. However, he still chose to say it out loud, just to set the record straight and make sure that, in the future, she remembered the limits they had once set for themselves.

—We're sex friends, and that's it. Anything beyond that has no place here.

What should she say to that? Should she apologize?  Or is silence preferable? Hana didn't know what to say. He'd left her with far more questions than she'd started with, in addition to an unpleasant feeling having ruined everything they'd built up so far.

Hana knew full well that their relationship could end overnight. So why on earth was her heart racing at the thought that it might end now, in the next second? Because as he stared at her as if she were not more than a stain on his shirt, Hana feared she had signed their end.

She had to make up for it, and failing to find the strength to utter a single word, Hana chose to let her gestures do the talking. At least they wouldn't betray her as words could.

Gathering what little courage she had left, Hana slowly approached him and dared to slide a hand over his cheek. She waited for him to react in some way, but since he showed no sign of reluctance, the young woman closed her eyelids and broke the little distance to tenderly place an apologetic kiss on the corner of his lips.

The contact lasted only a fraction of a second, but in Hana's mind, an eternity had just passed. When she drew back far enough to catch his translucent gaze, he seemed to have regained his usual composure, a sign that he seemed to accept her silent apology.

The figure skater swallowed, gathering her words carefully before finally speaking.

—You're right, the young woman murmured softly, without taking her eyes off him for a moment. I shouldn't have asked you that question.

The young man's echoes of the state of their relationship came flooding back, and as a token of her sincerity, Hana slipped her fingers under her shirt. In the blink of an eye, she pulled it over her head, exposing her silky skin to her lover's burning gaze. If he happened to be surprised by her audacity, he showed none of it.

—My intention was not to awaken a painful memory.

Hana approached again and carefully repositioned herself above the young man, this time capturing his lips with more fervor. It wasn't long before Keisuke's hands were roaming up and down her back.

—I promise I'll never mention it again, she finally breathed between kisses.

After all, didn't she also have her numerously painful, well-kept secrets?