Saturday evening, getting ready for the festival felt like preparing for battle. Back in room 36, the bathroom mirror reflected three weeks of proper meals and basketball practice.

Yosuke pulled off his uniform shirt, replacing it with the new sweatshirt. The fabric still carried that store smell - plastic and possibility.

Erik's hair products lined the shelf like soldiers. Yosuke uncapped the expensive cream, worked it between his palms like he'd watched Erik do countless mornings. His dark hair submitted to the comb, first sleek like Erik's, then spiked like the kids on MTV.

"You're all right, space cadet!" He tried, pitching his voice like Leon's. Too eager.

"Whatever." Flat, bored. Better.

"Fuck you..." He whispered it first, then normal volume. "Fuck you!"

The mirror-boy looked back, harder somehow. Less hospital, more Saved by the Bell.

"Yeah, whatever." That's what he'd say next time Leon pulled his disappearing act. Maybe if he spoke teenage boy, Leon would finally hear him.

The sweatshirt rode up as he raised his arms. His reflection surprised him - ribs less visible now, stomach showing muscle. He turned, studying the new angles of his obliques.

"You're all right, space cadet!" He mimicked Leon again.

"Are you talking to yourself in there?"

Erik's voice sent Yosuke's elbow into the hair cream. He caught it before it hit the floor, shoved it back among its expensive siblings, heart hammering.

He unlocked the door, stepped out. "Whatever," he said, the word falling exactly right this time - casual, dismissive, armor.

Erik's eyebrows climbed. He opened his mouth, then just scoffed as Yosuke grabbed his jacket.

· · ─────── · 𓅪 · ─────── · ·

The autumn festival had transformed Greenwode's town square into something magical. Colored lights stretched between old maples, while food trucks pumped wood smoke and caramelized onions into crisp air. Families clustered around picnic tables, teenagers prowled in packs, and somewhere a volunteer desperately tried to interest sugar-rushed kids in the historical society booth.

Yosuke stood at the edge wearing his No Fear sweatshirt, Erik's blue sweater knotted around his hips. The mirror practice had given him strange confidence. Around them, rigid social hierarchies melted under festival magic - Jessica shared cotton candy with freshmen she usually ignored, while Jerrell from basketball actually high-fived theater kids.

Erik appeared beside him in dark chinos and a cream cable-knit sweater, looking more adult chaperone than teen.

Yosuke spotted a familiar tall figure haunting the edges of the stage - Captain Kovacs he'd helped outside Science class, the one who clearly knew Leon.

"Who's that?" Yosuke asked, pointing without his usual elaborate explanations.

Erik's expression clouded. "That's Liam. Basketball captain. Senior. Keeps to himself, skips classes but still gets top grades. Tops the county ranking." His voice took on that careful tone. "Jessica mentioned MIT sent back his application. I'd be quite upset about that."

"Why?"

Concerned wrinkles appeared across Erik's usually smooth face. "I've no idea."

But something in Erik's tone suggested he did know, like there was some taboo surrounding Liam he couldn't mention. Yosuke lifted his glasses, seeing Liam more clearly - hood up beneath his green varsity jacket.

"Looks lonely," Yosuke said simply.

Erik's nod was curt. "He is. And for a reason."

The festival whirled around them - police officers moving through the crowd, Pablo wrestling with amp cables while his father's voice boomed from the pizza stand, the museum lady desperately trying to make geology exciting.

"Corn?" Leon appeared like a conjuring, butter gleaming on his chin as he pressed hot corn cobs into their hands. His eyes were already somewhere else, bouncing on his toes with barely contained energy. The oversized flannel hung open over what had to be Karin's cropped black baby tee. His low-slung Levis showed both boxers and hip bones.

"I can see your happy trail," Erik complained, awkward with corncob in hand. "Please button up before you hit the stage."

Yosuke munched the sweet, buttery corn while Leon ignored Erik's remark, eyeing Yosuke's outfit instead.

"Looking good, Space Cadet. Don't go hogging all that weed now, save some for me." Erik's eyes went wide but Leon was already moving, "Gotta eat fast - we're on in ten!" Leon winked and climbed the stage, corncob secured between teeth.

"What the heck was that about?"

"Get with the times, Erik," Yosuke said, despite not fully understanding the phrase. It perplexed Erik enough to make him forget about his corn's questionable hygiene.

When the Midnight Regulators took the stage, silence fell like a curtain. Leon sat perfectly still behind his drums as Pablo stepped up to the microphone. The first notes drifted soft and raw: "I'm so happy, 'cause today I found my friends, they're in my head..."

Then something shifted. The guitars swelled, and Leon's drumsticks began to move faster, building like an approaching storm. Pablo drew in a breath, and suddenly the music exploded - "YEAH! YEAH! YEAH!" His voice ripped through the quiet, rough and desperate. The crowd surged forward as Leon unleashed himself on the drums.

Yosuke's half-eaten corn grew cold as he watched Leon transform. Behind the drums, he became something wild and magnificent - all fluid motion and fierce joy, hair whipping like a lion's mane. Beautiful, Yosuke thought, then felt his face heat.

"They've gotten better," Erik shouted over the music.

Song followed song. The bass crawled up Yosuke's spine during "Spoonman," while Tristan - a silent goth giant - bent over his guitar like a priest at prayer, black nails catching lights as he coaxed alien sounds from steel. Pablo prowled the stage, no longer the restaurant owner's quiet son but something wild and free.

"Black Hole Sun" made the air shimmer. Even Principal Herschel nodded along. Near the pizza stand, Mr. Lugosi dabbed his eyes with checkered cloth. This was Greenwode's night to transcend itself.

Then came "Alive."

The opening chords sliced through cooling air. The crowd pressed closer. Festival lights flickered strange patterns, casting Leon in stuttering strobes—there, gone, there again. Sweat made his face shine as he played with complete abandon.

He caught Yosuke watching and grinned—pure joy, unguarded and perfect.

Time did something strange. Yosuke's body felt suddenly distant, like he was floating outside his own skin. The festival noise faded to underwater murmurs. All that existed was Leon.

The way sweat traced down his neck. How his arms moved with animal grace, muscles flexing in perfect rhythm. The vulnerable hollow of his throat where his pulse would be racing. That wild mane catching light like a lion's, framing his face in gold and shadow. His mouth slightly open, breathing hard. Beautiful didn't even begin to cover it—Leon looked like something carved from living flame.

Yosuke's stomach dropped like he'd missed a step in the dark. Heat crawled up from somewhere low in his belly, spreading through his chest until breathing felt difficult. His skin felt too tight. He wanted—

What did he want?

To be closer. To touch. To hug that sweat-slicked skin and feel Leon's heartbeat thunder against his chest. To have those dark eyes look at him the way they looked at the drums—completely focused, completely present.

The realization hit like cold water: Oh. Oh no. This is what wanting someone feels like.

Yosuke lifted his hand, returning an awkward wave. Leon's grinned wider, and something cracked open in Yosuke's chest—warm and terrifying and utterly undeniable.

He wanted Leon. Wanted him in a way that made his body feel strange and new. Wanted him the way boys were supposed to want girls, except Yosuke had never felt anything like this watching Karin or Jessica or Maria. Only Leon. Only this.

But during the guitar solo, strangeness crept in.

As Tristan launched into blistering notes, Leon matching the wild energy, Yosuke noticed them - three falcons perched motionless above the chaos, dark silhouettes against deepening purple sky.

They watched with laser focus, heads moving in perfect unison. No one else seemed to see these regal predators with no business among carnival games and spun sugar.

The world began to tilt.

Colors bled at the edges. The crowd became a breathing, pulsing organism. Music wrapped around him like liquid, Pablo's voice and Leon's drums weaving patterns in languages older than words. Time stretched elastic.

The falcons' amber eyes found his. They had not come for pizza or corn. They had come for him. Their gaze carried weight of ancient knowing, whispers about truths buried beneath amnesia's fog.

Reality grew tissue-thin. Festival sounds muffled, colors washing strange. He stepped away from Erik, drawn by currents older than thought. The birds called to something deep in his bones, something that remembered flight and freedom.

"What do you want?" he whispered.

The crowd swayed like ocean, like breathing. Leon's drums became heartbeat of some vast creature. Everything connected, everything calling him to remember—

"Yosuke!"

Erik's hand clamped his shoulder, yanking him back to earth. The spell shattered. Sound crashed back - applause, whoops, equipment scraping. The falcons vanished over the town hall's roof.

"You okay?" Erik's voice cut through his confusion. "You looked..."

"Fine," Yosuke managed, blinking hard. "Just... the music was really loud."

The final notes faded. Leon stood behind his kit, hair plastered dark with sweat, grinning like he'd discovered fire. That warm feeling returned to Yosuke's chest as their eyes met. He wanted to tell Leon how incredible he'd been, how the music had lifted him somewhere beyond the ordinary world.

Leon's smile grew brighter, pure and unguarded.

Then Karin cut between them like a blade, grabbing Leon's wrist with possessive efficiency. Leon's expression shuttered instantly, joy draining as she pulled him toward the stage's shadow. Her parting look at Yosuke could have frozen summer - a clear warning.

Back off, freak.

Erik made an irritated sound, deliberately turning away. "Pablo! That was flawless. You should write your own material."

Pablo nodded, carefully placing his guitar in its case. "Leon's pretty attached to his covers. Hard to argue when he's the best drummer in three counties."

"I've never seen him practice," Yosuke said, still watching where Leon had disappeared.

"That's just it." Pablo wiped sweat from his forehead. "Shows up knowing everything. Like it's coded in his DNA or something."