Orion's body sunk downwards, towards the bottom of a pond. His eyes were closed, his mind was as clear as the water, and his heartbeat drummed softly in his ears. He basked in the serenity of the moment and allowed himself to settle indolently against the pond's ornamental gravel.

He inhaled and his eyes fluttered open with astonishment. He could breathe! How crazy was that? A small smile cracked his lips and he sat up, his arms floating beside him. Orion slowly tilted his head back and looked up; the surface rippled above him, each lustrous wrinkle caressed by the sun's golden rays.

Something brushed against his arm, and he heard a gurgle as oxygen bubbles trailed upwards, in a misshapen column. His gaze fell on the perpetrator: a koi fish. It circled Orion once, then swum away, its undulating tail propelling it into the nothingness. But it wasn't alone. Soon, another sprouted out of nowhere and began floating towards Orion, then another, and another, until he was soon surrounded by a variegation of yellows, blues, reds, and everything in between.

He remained perfectly still, observing with fascination the way they went about their lives, completely oblivious to his presence. To them, Orion was just part of the landscape, an obstacle to their paths. He wished his life could be as simple as theirs—no stress, no responsibilities. Just swimming about aimlessly, rising to the surface from time to time to feed on grub that rained from the sky.

The flurry of tails and fins began to slow until the koi fish froze in place. Orion's mouth fell open with perplexity; it was like time itself had stopped, but how come he could still move?

He blinked, and they vanished; except for one, which hovered right above his right knee. The black, Doitsu-scaled fish had white snake-like markings which decorated its body, and small, round eyes that stared right through Orion, scrutinising his soul. A Kumonryu, it was called.

A strange force drew Orion's towards it, but just as he was about to touch it...

♒︎

Orion lifted his head with a strangled breath. He clutched his left breast, inhaling and exhaling loudly, with widened eyes. It took a moment for him to recover as he reclined back into his chair, arms hanging limply by his sides.

It was just a dream, he thought and sat back up to look down at his textbook. It was opened at the section of Cell Biology—he must've fallen asleep while reading it. Orion pushed his fringe back and squinted tiredly at the text, the dim lighting of his desk lamp doing nothing to help his deteriorating eyesight.

He closed the book and pushed it to one side. It was passed midnight, and Orion was so tired that he couldn't even think straight, there was no point in continuing to study. After yawning, he smacked his chapped lips together. Water. I need water. He snatched the plastic bottle from underneath his desk and chugged until it crumpled in his hand. Then, he tossed it in the small green bin on the other side of the room and stood up, his chair rolling away.

As he flicked off the light, his mind wandered towards his dream. They say that dreams are like a window to the soul—take a moment to analyse them and one can learn a lot about one's inner workings, about one's state of mind. Orion tried to find a meaning behind his, but nothing came to mind; only facts on animal and plant cells did, like a broken record. He shrugged, then kicked his slippers off, watching them trundle along the floor and come to a crooked stop.

A sharp tink came from one of the windows. His head immediately snapped towards the sound, and he stared at the glass, unblinking. Nothing unusual happened for the next couple of seconds; the gentle rustling of the crabapple leaves made his eyes droop, and another yawn escaped his lips. It was really time to hit the haystack.

Orion lifted the blankets, and sat on the bed, his gaze still on the window. There it was again— a pebble rebounded against the glass with the same tink, startling him. He pursed his lips together, annoyance making his eyebrows creep down into a frown. Who could it be at this time of night? Was it Brandon? How did he know where Orion lived? Did he want to beat him up again?

He slowly stood up and crept towards it, keeping to the shadows. Orion had forgotten to pull the curtains together earlier, so he pushed one side further up the wall so he could take a peek at the source of the disturbance. There, in the backyard, was Barbara, crouched on the ground with a hand patting the grass, searching for more rocks to throw.

Orion immediately unlatched the window and lifted the trim.

"What are you doing here?" He whisper-screamed, leaning over the sill. A cold breeze decided to tickle his face and neck, causing shivers to run up and down his body. Orion wrapped both arms around his chest, clenching his jaw to stop his teeth from chattering.

Barbara straightened, a handful of pebbles in her hand. At the sound of his voice, she tossed them away and waved frantically at him.

What does she want? Orion thought bitterly, already feeling a throat-ache coming on. It wasn't enough that she had gotten him grounded for a whole week and sent to bed without dinner. Now she wanted to be a witness at his funeral.

She lifted a finger in the air, then took off her backpack and unzipped it. Orion watched impassively as she stuck her hand inside and pulled out a white square, dropping the backpack onto the ground afterwards. What looked like bags of chips and chocolate bars tumbled out, and Orion's stomach groaned.

Being dinner-less wouldn't have been a problem if his mother had sneaked some food into his room while his father was sleeping. But she must've been really hurt about her trampled flowers because she hadn't spoken a single word to him the whole night. Another reason for Orion to be pissed off.

Barbara unfolded the white square until it was the size of a poster paper and then lifted it up into the air.

In big, highlighter-yellow letters read: "I'm sorry for getting you in trouble." At the bottom, in a different colour, was a drawing of Barbara with large doe-like eyes welling up with tears.

Orion's eyes darted to the maker, who stuck out her bottom lip in a pout. Her unruly hair was piled up into a beehive on her head, held in place by a green bandana while her outfit consisted of a large hoodie, baggy pants, and hiking boots. She had geared up—it was clear to Orion that her visit would consist of more than just an apology.

He slowly shook his head, holding his head high in defiance.

Barbara dropped the sign and took a couple of steps forwards until she was right under his window and said, "I have to show you something."

Orion leant impossibly forwards, motioning for her to keep her voice down. Whispering wasn't something she was very good at.

"You shouldn't be here." He groused, looking back into the darkness of his room. A knocking against the wall indicated that one of his parents had shifted in their sleep; the headboard of their bed was right against it. This conversation needed to end quickly if he didn't want to wake them.

"Come on. It will only be for a few hours." She picked up two packages of food from the ground and shook them, "I have snacks!"

Orion's stomach lurched painfully, and he brought a hand to it with a wince. "No, go away!"

Barbara placed both hands on her hips. Then after giving him the evil eye, she lifted the poster back up and flipped it over. Another note: "I'll stay the whole night if I have to."

He huffed. Darn it. She knew that he would be unyielding.

Barbara plopped down onto the grass and crossed her legs, as determined to get her way as he was. A car drove by and Orion followed it with his eyes, mulling over his options. He could either go back to bed and hope that Barbara would eventually get bored and go back home, or he could attempt to sneak out. His heart-beat increased fractionally at the thought—it would be the first time in his life that he would do something so rebellious.

He considered jumping it. No, his room was too far up, and his landing would cause a racket and possibly result in him breaking both his legs. Then there would be the problem of sneaking back in; his parents locked all the doors and windows at night. Getting by their room stealthily and then downstairs to the backdoor would be quite a feat—they had the hearing of a bat.

The only way out was through his window, but how would he do it?

"How do I get down?" He asked, defeated.

"Use the drainpipe," she said, pointing at it. Orion turned his head and there it was, a couple of inches away from the window. It ran all the way down the side of the house, ending just above the ground. He gulped, already feeling vertiginous.

"Don't worry, I'll be right here," Barbara offered, an encouraging smile playing on her lips. It was tempting, very tempting—he reached out and knocked against the pipe. Relatively sturdy.

"I'll be back." Before he could overthink things, he turned and faced his room again. He had to get changed, there was no way in hell that he would go out on the streets in his teddybear pyjamas.

Swiftly, he rushed to his wardrobe and began sifting blindly through it. He stopped at a shirt halfway out the stack. Fear warned him that if he used clean clothes, then his mother would notice when she went to do the laundry. That would raise a lot of red flags. With a nod, Orion messily pushed it back inside and went to the hamper at the foot of his bed. After plunging a hand inside he let out a relieved breath: his mother had yet to put the day's clothing into the wash. Perfect.

In about three minutes, Orion was out of his pyjamas into his old outfit, with only one sock left to slip on. Now what? He thought. Did he have to bring anything? Where were they going? He hurried over to the window again. Only once he had a foot dangling outside did he hear Barbara's voice again.

"You forgot your shoes!"

"Ugh." He rolled his eyes and brought his leg back inside. There was no way that he could get to his shoes. They were all in a rack downstairs. Wait a sec—Orion got down on all fours and stuck an arm underneath the bed to retrieve his sneakers. He had forgotten that after getting sent to his room—he had just pushed them underneath his bed, unwilling to bump into his father again.

It was creepy the way everything seemed to work in his favour—it was as if fate had this escapade in store for him. Otherwise, how could things have gone so smoothly?

He double-knotted his shoes, and in a jiffy he was out the window and hugging the drainpipe, trying with all his might to apply what he had learned in his gymnastics unit in P.E., to his current situation. He had to climb a rope back then, but the concept was very much the same; the only difference was that instead of a pat on the back waiting for him below was a trip to the hospital.

Orion inched downwards, gritting his teeth as he did so. Don't look down, he repeated over and over in his head, trying to get rid of the anxiety that gnawed his insides like a rat. The weak muscles in his arms and legs strained against the mighty force of gravity, and sweat beaded his forehead.

"Come on, you're almost there," Barbara encouraged from below, a lot closer than he had thought. Two feet above the ground, Orion pushed himself off the wall and dropped onto his feet, squatting down to lessen the blow.

Barbara threw her arms around him, muttering a million 'sorry's' for getting him in trouble. Orion, still a little stunned from his courageousness, just nodded in response.

"I can't believe you're making me do this," he said after a brief recovery, looking up at his window. To think that only a couple of minutes ago, he had been up there, serving his punishment like a good son. Now that he was down here, he felt different, more invigorated. He was still a little nervous, but not as much as he was before.

"I can't believe you actually came down here," Barbara retorted, gathering her belongings, "When you went back inside I thought that you had ditched."

"I said I would be back, though." Orion didn't like being so exposed and proved it by scanning the area, all senses alert.

"Oh, you did?" Barbara said, clueless as always, "Well I didn't hear you." After putting her bag on her back, she opened a packet of cookies and offered it to Orion. He didn't take one or two, he took five. After a strange look, she popped one in her mouth and took his hand, leading him away from his house and towards the street.

Orion blushed at the contact, and he couldn't keep his eyes off their intertwined hands. To Barbara, this meant nothing—she was very touchy feely, perhaps it was a cultural thing—but it sent Orion's emotions into overdrive. He took his hand away and used it to shove another cookie in his mouth, preferring to concentrate on chewing rather than on Barbara's close proximity.

"So do you forgive me?" she asked tentatively, throwing him a worried look.

"There's nothing to forgive, you did nothing wrong."

It was odd walking down the empty sidewalks at night. There was a sort of stillness in the air, maybe because the entire neighbourhood was sleeping, and not sneaking around like he was. He had to admit though—it was nice being able to leave the house on his terms, and not on someone else's.

"Of course I did something I wrong! I probably got you grounded for a million years!"

"Only a week. But it's fine. It's entirely my fault. I should've known better than to listen to you."

"Hey!" Barbara scowled at him, but her features softened when he stuck his tongue out.

"Let's just say it was bad luck. It probably won't happen again."

"Let's hope so."